The more you know…
December 5, 2007
I’ve
mentioned many times my desire to get out and play more live poker, but setting off
at the crack of dawn on a rainy Saturday morning to make a 2pm kick off in Birmingham
is a stark reminder of why sitting at home in your Incredible Hulk underpants eating
cheesy balls and multi-tabling at a level well above your bankroll is such a popular
pursuit. And no, none of that sentence is euphemistic code for some twisted sexual
pursuit. You sickos.
Anyway,
I did make the tourney in time, played for twelve hours and managed to finish 55th out
of 206; walking away with nothing but a slow hand clap and that familiar hollow feeling
inside. Anyway, what I really wanted to talk about was a strange event that occurred
while I was driving up to the game. But first, a wild tangent:
Doing
the whole ‘Expert’ thing regularly on TV tends to lead to the development of standard
replies to emails, generic tips that are of the little/no use variety taken out of
context, and a general poker blah blah blah noise on demand. One of the things we
often talk about when people are clearly trying a little too hard is about letting
your skills develop naturally.
If
I throw a pen at you, you’ll catch it (and then probably use it to push my eyes into
my skull, shouting “Why did you throw that pen at me!”) The amazing thing is that
you probably caught the pen with ease regardless of where I threw it (unless it was
out of a train window, which would have been a waste of a good pen but at least ensures
you won’t do anything to my eyes with it). Anyway, the point is that you weren’t born
with the ability to catch pens. I know this for a fact, not because I had lots of
pens thrown at me as a child, but because I went round Mothercare lobbing Bics at
toddlers before writing this piece. I doubt I’ll be invited back any time soon. Lucky
I don’t have kids, eh.
Anyway,
the point (as I so often seem to have to start my sentences with) is that you are
doing some AMAZING calculations as the pen hurtles towards your fisog - MILLIONS of
calculations in fact. Add a cross wind and you’re practically the Tiger Woods of the
pen-catching world.
However,
returning to my
Birmingham
drive story
(I know - it seems like hours ago that I mentioned that doesn’t it) I’m cruising along
when I suddenly find I’m easing off the accelerator and dropping right back from the
car in front. I have no idea why I’ve just done this and don’t reme
mb
er making any
conscious decision to do so. However, while I’m busy noticing that my body is doing
things without consulting its owner, the car in front swerves and then brakes suddenly.
How spooky!
Had
I not eased back I would now be dead (possibly) or at least seriously inconvenienced,
but was fine thanks to the gap I had created between myself and this loon when he
wigged out. So… what happened? Well, on reflection, I realised that I had had one
of those ‘unconscious competence’ moments we refer to all the time when we talk about
abilities developing.
As
I thought back I twigged a couple of things that my subconscious had been paying far
more attention to than I was even aware of. 1) The car in front was a Porshe and we
were in the middle lane doing a mere 77mph. People with small penises do NOT buy Porshes
to sit in middle lanes observing national speed limits. 2) Through his tiny rear window
I’d clocked the silhouette of a person sitting dead central in the car. Now this is
not naturally where you find the steering wheel, accelerator, or indeed any of the
instruments required for driving a car. Indeed, where he appeared to be sitting guaranteed
nothing less than full anal penetration by a gear stick. I could only surmise that
the car was an automatic, or the driver was a sick individual who enjoyed bottom sex
with automobile parts.
All
of this
info
rmation had
been registered unconsciously by ‘Brain of Matt’ processed, analysed, and sent to
an inbox in the depths of my mind marked “things that seem strange and to be avoided”.
Hence the mystery deceleration and general avoidance of said Porshe-owning clown.
I can only guess that he was digging for something in his glove compartment or doing
some light maintenance on his overly-expensive car stereo.
As
I’ve been driving almost every day for nearly twenty years I guess it’s no real surprise
to find that I hardly think about what I’m doing any more - while still not dieing
on a regular basis. It’s the same story with the pen catching (without the bit about
dieing). And thus it is with poker (again, minus the mention of death). The more you
play the more those things you once had to think about become automated responses.
When a player makes a move against you that ‘feels’ wrong then you’ve probably started
to reach the equivalent stage in poker that means you are no longer thinking so hard
that you can barely operate.
I
don’t have a natural instinct to catch pens any more than I have a natural instinct
to avoid check-raise traps from the guy that flat called with a pocket pair and flopped
trips. These things take time to develop, so prepare for a long journey.
Do
enjoy the ride though, and be sure to buckle up - it can get bumpy out there.
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