JV'S KILLER POKER:
Corking

BY: John Vorhaus

A friend of mine has a unique way of describing his play when his play goes south. "I am now a cork," he will say, "bobbing on the sea of poker." Corking, then, is his personal private slang word for tilt. Of course he would like to avoid tilt at all times, but of course that's easier said than done. Even when you've got a clever word like corking to help your cause.

Here's how I went corking last night, and please note how my own good fortune triggered the event in the first place.

After hours of muscling along with no cards and few strong prospects, I finally picked up pocket aces in early position. Part of me said slow play! Having waited so long for big tickets, I wanted to make sure I got maximum value out of them. I knew better, though, and my primary programming kicked in: When you get the goods, bet the goods. So I did. Everyone folded, leaving me with nothing to show for my aces but the puny, puny blinds.

I kicked myself for not slow playing. Despite my understanding of the underlying logic of the circumstance (you don't want to give a swarm of inferior hands a shot at snapping off your big pair) I felt that I had wasted my aces. Worse, I let that feeling infect my play, and in that instant I started corking; I began to go on tilt. Having supposedly wasted my aces, I let myself think like that I'd been somehow cheated out of chips that I somehow deserved. I looked at my next starting hand – Q-T offsuit – and imagined that I was going to win with the Q-T all those chips that I "deserved" to win with A-A. Have you ever heard such claptrap in all your life?

It won't take a vivid imagination to guess what happened next, for Q-T is no A-A, no matter how devoutly I wished that it were. I pushed too hard, and then chased too far, and ended up losing a lot of big bets to a hand – guess what? – far superior to mine.

And then I did the very same thing on the very next hand. With an even weaker holding this time! What the hell was I thinking?

Within two hands of getting the best holding in hold 'em, I was a cork, bobbing on the sea of poker. Within two hands of getting a hand I thought would win me big money, I was losing big money. I was on tilt – speed-tilt – and heading for major disaster. I had to take steps.

So I did. Right out of the card room. And once around the casino. All the way around the property. Big walk. One that gave me plenty of time to think about what I'd just gone through.

My first play had been correct: I raised with aces, hoping to thin the field. In fact, I got a good outcome with that hand – they all gave up without a fight – but I treated it as a failure, and filled myself with wistful longing and regret. Then I committed a cardinal sin of poker. I let what happened last affect what happens next. I pushed two hands too far, and gave away all my hard-fought equity in the game. But then I recovered and did something right again: I got up and walked it off. Instead of staying and playing catch-up to my catch-up, I put myself out of harm's way until I could stop corking and settle down again.

Can you do this? Can you detect the presence of tilt in your game and choke it off before it slaughters you? Can you tell when you're starting to cork, and get out of the turbulent sea while there's still time? Here are some ways to know if you're heading down the slippery slope:

1. The hand you folded an hour ago is the hand you raise with now.

2. You call a raise and a reraise before the flop with 8-7, knowing that you're up against big hands and banking on the advantage of stealth, because who'd figure you for calling with such crud?

3. You call the flop and turn with bottom pair, expecting to trip up because you're "due."

4. You run hopeless bluffs, trying to get well quick.

5. You know – just know – that the next rack of chips will be the one that turns everything around.

6. You start drinking, rationalizing that as badly as you're playing now, drinking can't possibly make it worse.

Okay, those are some warning signs of tilt, but they're not the only ones. More important, they're not yours. What I want you to do – now, right now – is grab a pen and a piece of paper and draw up a list of things you know you do that indicate you're on tilt. Tell yourself the truth, and make it the whole truth, too. We've been over this point before, but it bears repeating: You can't hope to fix your game if you can't honestly face the flaws you have.

And we all have flaws. Yes it's true. We all go on tilt. I did it just last night. Sometimes, if we're smart and attentive, tilt only lasts a few hands. Sometimes, if we're stubborn and stupid, we cork on for hour after hour and rack after rack after rack. Wouldn't you rather have the short tilt than the long tilt? Then recognize your warning signs! And start by writing them down.

My friend knows when he's playing badly. He has a cozy little word – corking – that he uses to help recover his balance. Do that too: Give yourself a word, or give yourself a phrase, or give yourself a mantra – something, anything to remind yourself of the difference between good, solid poker and sloppy, silly, tilty play. And let that catchword be your watchword, the thing that helps you distinguish which side of the fence of tilt you're on.

Yes, give yourself a word, or give yourself a phrase, but in all events give yourself a clue. It's the only way to give yourself a chance.

(John Vorhaus is author of the KILLER POKER series and News Ambassador for UltimateBet.com.)