Last week, I wrote about how I was hoping a break from poker would reset my fortunes and give me a fresh platform for recovery. After a rough year and a much-needed holiday, I was genuinely optimistic. But poker, as always, doesn’t care. It doesn’t care about your mindset, your preparation, or whether you’ve had a refreshing break. It’s the same brutal game, and this past week served as a harsh reminder of that.
I should have known better. I’m notorious for my negativity, but I didn’t think that mindset would affect the cards or outcomes. Still, I was open to the idea that a mental reset could help me make better decisions and improve my chances of succeeding at the tables. And I started off on a good note with a clean 4 buy-in win in my first session back, which, in hindsight, may have been a bit of confirmation bias on my part.
My 100NL Graveyard
After returning to 100NL, my main stake since completing the 10NL Challenge, I was quickly brought back to earth. I thought that “clean slate” feeling would give me a comeback opportunity, but poker doesn’t care about your headspace. After that first win, I struggled once again in the dreaded preflop all-ins. 100NL has been my graveyard for these situations, and the silver lining is I’ve got a compilation video of my endless losses in these all-ins, which at least provides some entertainment for my viewers.
But the real pain wasn’t just the all-ins. Streaming while playing means people are actively trying to beat me, and it’s become almost comical how often I lose in bizarre, unrepeatable ways. I know my over-the-top reactions are part of the reason why players target me so hard, but that’s just who I am, and I can’t change it.
The 4-high Disaster
Within half an hour of my first session back, I encountered one hand that perfectly encapsulated why nothing ever seems to change. After an open from the button, I 3-bet with a hand and my opponent called. On the flop, I made a half-pot continuation bet, and my opponent raised fairly quickly. Not ideal, but I called after considering a shove.
The turn brought another card, and I checked. My opponent shoved all-in, just about the size of the pot. After some deliberation, I decided there were enough draws I was ahead of to call. I threw in $60 and braced for the outcome. But then my opponent turned over 4-high for a straight—completing the preposterous hand on the river.
That moment was a tough blow. Any flicker of hope I had for a fresh start or optimism was completely shattered. It was a stark reminder that all the rest and mental recovery in the world wouldn’t matter. I was right back where I started.
The Silver Lining
I’m fully aware that a significant part of my viewership enjoys watching me lose, and in some twisted way, I should probably be thankful for the entertainment value. It’s part of the game, and I’ve learned to take the rough with the smooth, even when the rough feels so brutal.
But let’s be real for a second—it would be nice to win an all-in against 4-high every now and then.
