I guess the debate about who the best player is overall is one that has always been around in poker and more recently we have had the additional debate about whether internet players are better than live players.
But surely these sorts of arguments, whilst fun, miss the point? In Jesse May’s seminal novel Shut Up and Deal this question about who the best player is addressed in the introduction.
I haven’t read it in a long time, so bear with me. My hazy memory tells me that Jesse compares two players in the casino, one who is an excellent Holdem player and one who is ok, a winner, but nothing spectacular.
Now the one who is ok notices that all the drunks and the gamblers like to play 7-card stud so he decides to play that game as well as Holdem and next thing you know he’s winning bundles of money. The expert Holdem player only likes to play Holdem so he has missed out on this opportunity. May asks us, who is the better player now?
May goes onto write that the expert Holdem player sometimes has the odd losing session (you can’t win them all no matter how good you are, can you?) and when he does he wanders into the pit and tilts off double or treble the money he lost at the Holdem game. Once again, May asks us, who the better player is now?
If you haven’t worked it out by now, there’s a lot more to being a good poker player than just being able to play the cards right. In essence, a holistic approach is the right way if you are hoping to be one of the greats. The psychological battle in poker is always with yourself, not your opponents. Can you really look into your soul and admit to weaknesses and uncertainties in your game? And by that, I don’t just mean your game, but your character.
It’s always interesting to see some new hotshot make a name for themselves and then see how long they last. There’s a fine line between self-confidence and an over-inflated ego. Can you tell when you have crossed it? It doesn’t take much for self-belief to turn into hubris.
Just because all of your contemporaries and peers are indulging in cross-booking and prop bets and playing Chinese poker for $1,000 a point it doesn’t mean you have to do it. A true professional feels no shame in stepping down in limits when things have not been going so well at the tables.
A recent interview with David Benyamine at Inside Poker magazine was quite illuminating. When asked if he played in the pit Benyamine replied,
“I’ve played craps, blackjack, roulette and high-limit slot machines. I have played everything. I’ve been very silly in my choices. Sometimes you lose track and get caught in that spiral. You lose a lot of money. Then you get reset.”
There’s no doubt that all the great poker players have a lot of gamble in them, but maybe Benyamine has taken that concept too far. There’s no questioning Benyamine’s skill at poker, but with so many leaks I’m starting to wonder if the only food he can afford to buy is catfood.
“I’ve lost millions but less than $10m. The line is so small between a pro and someone who is not smart in the pit. If you don’t respect that line, you easily fall into playing too much or gambling too much or making stupid choices.”
Phil Ivey, who many consider the best had a disastrous World Series – not only did he do his brains on a load of bracelet bets that seemed like nothing more than a dick swinging contest, but he also lost something like $2 million betting on the L.A Lakers to win the NBA Finals. Is he still the best player in the world now?
It’s not just the decisions you make during the play of the hand that count, it’s all your decisions. Berating the player who just outdrew you? Complaining that you can only beat “good” players? Playing the bigger game because you’re bored, even though you can’t afford to lose in it? Blaming the dealer for your bad luck? Thinking that the internet site you’re playing on must be rigged because this is the sixth session in a row that you have lost? Putting your losses down to a series of cold deck situations? Do you think good players do all these things?
Maybe a good way to work out who the best player is would be to give a bunch of players $1 million each and follow them for, say, five years. Whoever is still in action with the biggest tank from that million would be the winner. Even then some might argue that five years is too small a sample of time.
Ultimately Jesse May’s book ends with the protagonist just happy to still be in action. And maybe at the end of the day, that’s what being a professional gambler is all about. Questions about who is the best player are meaningless distractions, fuel for fragile egos. And if there is one thing the best player doesn’t let get in his or her way, it’s their ego.
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