Painless Poker
Tommy Angelo on Playing Painless Poker #59 - Duration: 30:29. Poker Mind Coach 1,913 views. Crushing Small Stakes Cash Games by Jonathan Little (Part 1 of 7) - Duration: 35:47. Painless Poker is the kind of book that keeps you company at the Rio in between long and wild WSOP sessions, the kind of tome you haul with you while you're freezing your ass off on the endless climb up Poker Mountain. It is your friend. It is your enemy. It is your teacher. It is the most idiosyncratic poker book of all time.
Poker coach, author, player and PokerNews contributor Tommy Angelo has a new book due out this month, following his earlier, well-regarded titles Elements of Poker and A Rubber Band Story and Other Poker Tales.
Angelo's new one, Painless Poker, is due out March 14. Recently he took the time to speak with us about the book as well as to share an early excerpt.
PokerNews: Talk first about that title — Painless Poker. What does that mean?
Tommy Angelo: I get a lot of different reactions to that title. One friend asked me if I was writing a comedy. Most people are like, 'That’s not a possible thing.'
The book is called Painless Poker because most of it takes place at a fictional place called the Painless Poker Clinic. What happens at the clinic is, I'm sitting there alone and seven archetypal poker players beam-in at their moment of greatest pain. Each of them has a story to tell about what they were doing at the moment they got beamed to the clinic.
Once they arrive, I teach a two-day seminar to them on how to reduce pain — both in poker and in life. Each of these characters was developed to represent all the various types of pain that we experience in poker. The two days of the clinic roughly mirrors the coaching program that I do with my clients that is several days' long. So you see the characters develop and grow.
So the book is kind of like a novel or fictional story, but it also gives poker advice.
That's right. What makes the book interesting, I think — both to read and for me to write — is that I'm writing in first person about me teaching this class, but all of it is made up. All the characters, all the stories, everything. They are based on experiences I've either had or witnessed others having, or that any of us can imagine poker players having, but they are all invented. It's like any other fiction, where none of it is true, but it's still full of truth. Or at least my best shot at it.
I think it turned out to be an effective venue for expressing all the ideas that I've learned on the topic of painless poker during my years of coaching, and from my own experiences with pain as a player.
Why did you decide to write Painless Poker?
What I'm hoping the reader will get out of this book is some combination of entertainment and value. As a writer, my primary emphasis was on writing a book that was readable, enjoyable to read and entertaining. As a teacher, my goal was to include information and insights that people might not have thought of before, that will help them reduce the stress and anxiety they have around issues concerning poker, and with everyday life.
One of the things I work on with my clients is meditation and mindfulness, and that also happens at the clinic near the end. We talk about everything from actual poker and strategy — we sit and play poker — and there's also discussion of using mindfulness techniques as a way to improve our poker score and just make life easier.
It's interesting to think about that idea of that one moment of greatest pain — the moment that brings each of the players to the Painless Poker Clinic. Every poker player probably has that sort of moment in their experience, one they instantly think about...
I'm glad to hear that... in fact, everyone does have their own 'beam-in' story. Here's a trailer for the book that tells three of the beam-in stories:
And that really is the purpose of the beam-in story concept — that it's relatable. It seems like every poker player has their own moment of greatest pain they remember.
An excerpt from Painless Poker:
My next big blind I got ace-king again. Three players folded and the action was on Mick. Mick looked at his cards, looked at my blind, and bet a quick $80 with four black chips.
The other players folded. And then there were two.
I called the $60 more. The flop came with no big cards, giving me no pair and no draw, and no interest in pretending otherwise. I checked and Mick bet fast and I folded fast. Mick turned over his cards, but I didn't bother to look at them.
Andy scolded Mick. 'Don't show him a bluff, you dummy. He might start calling us down.'
'I kind of doubt it,' Mick said. 'He's not what you'd call a reader. He can't even tell when one of the suckers who paid him for coaching thinks he got totally screwed.'
'Are you talking about you?' Andy said. 'Did you pay Tommy for lessons?'
This is Andy's idea of a really good time.
Mick pulled his hood off fast. His hair was short, way shorter than before. A buzz cut, I'd guess #5. His skull had a good shape to it.
'No way!' Mick said. 'I was force-fed, at the clinic.'
'At the what?' Andy said.
And off came the sunglasses. Mick aimed his pale blue eyes at Andy. Then at me for an uncomfortable three seconds.
'Never mind,' Mick said to Andy. 'Just forget I said anything.'
Well, that was surely not going to happen.
Ten hands later I got pocket queens on my small blind. Mick opened for $80 and everyone folded to me. I made it $260. The big blind folded and Mick called the $180 more. We were heads up going into the flop. Mick had his sunglasses and hood back on. I palmed four white chips.
The flop came Q-7-4, rainbow. I had the nuts with a set of queens. I dropped my chips into play, thus deploying a bit of sophistostrategy I latched onto long ago: Seeing as I have to bet the flop many times with crap, I'll be damned if I'm going to check when I finally flop huge.
'$400 is the bet,' said the dealer.
Mick called quickly, using four white chips as well.
What could get us all-in?
He could have 77 or 44, or a straight draw.
Or AA or KK. How could I get those hands to commit?
Just watch out for straights. 65 is your prime danger, plus some gutshots if he
started with a one-gapper.
The turn card was a deuce. I still had the nuts. So I bet out again.
'$800 is the bet.'
Mick did the tiniest hitch. During which he changed his mind. I saw the whole thing. Then he called my $800 bet, using two stacks of $20 chips, slid out slowly.
What did he change his mind from? Had Mick's first instinct been to raise? Or to fold?
He was going to fold.
How do you know?
Because if his first instinct was to raise, then the deuce must have improved his hand,
and the only thing it could improve him to is two pair.
Or possibly trip deuces if he floated the flop with 22.
True. The point is that if he did start with Q2, 72, 42, or 22, then a 2 on the turn wouldn't
make him hitch, because that's what he'd be hoping for.
Here's what really happened. The thought in Mick's mind when he called the flop was the
classic, 'If I hit the turn, I've got him. If I miss the turn and he bets again, the math will
make me fold.'
Mick hitched because he was prepared to fold if he missed, and he did miss. He missed
what he was aiming for. But he also picked up more outs, enough to turn a fold into a call.
It just took him a split second to see it. Hence the hitch before he called.
You're right. The story is complete. So, what does he have?
The stacks were right for him to call on the flop with a gutshot, planning to fold
the turn if he missed. Then the deuce gave him four more outs, so he called the turn.
And with this board, Q-7-4-2, there is only one holding for which that is true: 53.
Correct. He has 53.
The future was determined. If an ace or six came on the river, I would check, Mick would bet his straight, and I would fold my three queens and think hey, good for him, he got there.
The river was a six. I checked, Mick bet $1,000, and I folded, as scripted.
Good for you, Mick. Not that it matters, but I would have played it the same, except for the hitch.
Tommy's new book is called Painless Poker. For excerpts, reviews, a synopsis and more, check out Tommy's snazzy new site at tommyangelo.com.
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Poker coach, author, player and PokerNews contributorTommy Angelo's new book Painless Poker is out and now available in print or ebook versions!
As Tommy explained to us recently, 'the book is called Painless Poker because most of it takes place at a fictional place called the Painless Poker Clinic. What happens at the clinic is, I'm sitting there alone and seven archetypal poker players beam-in at their moment of greatest pain. Each of them has a story to tell about what they were doing at the moment they got beamed to the clinic.'
Once the players have arrived at the clinic, Tommy teaches 'a two-day seminar to them on how to reduce pain — both in poker and in life,' with the different characters representing 'all the various types of pain that we experience in poker.'
Today he shares with us another excerpt from the book, this one describing a big (and painful) hand from the book's first chapter in Tommy's colorful, inimitable way:
The gamble demon is a frenetic spirit arising from a sudden and unquenchable craving for more money in motion now. Faster action. Higher stakes. More gamble. And behold, the demon bore a child. We call it: The Straddle.
All straddles are the same in this way: Before the dealer deals the cards, one player voluntarily posts an extra blind that is double the amount of the big blind, thereby raising the stakes significantly for that hand.
The key word here is voluntary. Most pots are not straddled. But sometimes every pot is straddled, by player agreement, such as what happened at midnight, when Hammer put ten bucks out and said, 'Who's up for taking it up? Mandatory straddles anyone?'
The demon slipped through that slit and dashed from mind to mind, building a quick consensus. The chorus sang out, 'Let's do it!' and Kazzang! What began at 7pm as a tame $5-5 game turned into a late night $5-$5-$10 brawl.
'Lock the doors!' Hank said. And the demon's work was done.
The higher stakes put my final $1,500 at greater risk. Which would normally make the risk junkie happy, except this was too much risk. And too soon. It was all wrong. An overdose. No longer titillatingly treacherous. More like totally terrifying.
Painless Poker
I raised before the flop with pocket nines and got called by this loopy fossil named Travis. Maybe it was the bushy white hair and paisley vest, maybe it was being on a Mississippi Riverboat, but when Travis was in the game, I fancied myself playing poker with Mark Twain.
The flop came 8-7-6 with two clubs. I had an overpair and a straight draw. I bet $100. Travis raised it to $400. I already knew what I would do if he did that. I shoved all-in. And he already knew what he would do if I did that. He called quick and showed his hand, the ace-five of clubs, giving him a straight-draw flush-draw.
And there I was, my life riding on a coin toss.
My pair held up. And of course Hank had to comment. 'Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and again,' he said, for probably the millionth time, like he was yelling to someone outside.
The higher stakes also meant that if the cards were kind, a huge comeback was possible. And that's what happened. After I won that pot from Travis, my stack stood at $3,000. Next I won a series of middle-sized pots with a satisfying combo of good cards and good betting. I was up to $4,000 and feeling some relief, and solidity.
Got me a little cushion now, whew. And some muscle. Still stuck a ton but feeling okay. The fruit's hanging low and there's nowhere to go. Just playing. Just waiting. You've done it before, been out of the groove, and got back in it. The opportunities will come. To get the money in good. Wait. Wait for them. No need to zig and zag. Steady now.
Three hours later my stack was up to $6,000. I was still stuck $3,000 for the night, which sucked, but I had survived a near-death experience and made a miraculous recovery, so I was ecstatic about that, and I felt great about being on my best game, despite being stuck bad.
One hour to closing time, Travis and Hammer got busted by Quinn and Hank respectively. We were down to seven players. Quinn had a big win going, even for him, about ten grand. The other solid regulars were up a grand or two each. And Elvis was still in the building. He had $400 on the table and he was stuck about two thousand.
The main action source was Hank. He had $4,000 on the table, and he was stuck $4,000 for the night. He was edgy, seeing lots of flops, hoping to get lucky and win a Hail Mary pot to get even before 'All ashore!'
I had the same hopes when I called with 54 offsuit from the big blind after Elvis limped for $10 and Hank made it $50 on the button. Plus I knew how bad Hank wanted to win a big pot off me, so it seemed sporting to give him a chance. Elvis called Hank's raise too, and three of us went to the flop.
I had 54, and Hank, as it turned out, had pocket aces. The flop came 9-3-2 rainbow, giving me an open-ender. I needed a six or an ace for the nuts. I checked, Elvis checked, and Hank bet $150. I called, Elvis folded, and the turn card came—ba-da-bingo—an ace.
I checked, he bet, I raised, he reraised, and we were all-in. When the river didn't pair the board, I nearly seized from rapture. It was the biggest pot I had ever played, and it was all mine boys. Eight thousand dollars. That pot put me ahead $1,000 for the night.
And, I spanked Hank. When he saw my straight he chomped his toothpick in two and threw it at the floor. No fond farewells. Not even a stupid saying for the road. He just stomped up the stairs and out. I resisted the urge to say, 'Don't let the door hit you in the ass.' It's easy to be kind to a vanquished foe while you're stacking his chips.
One of the nit players was in position to put the straddle on. 'No more straddles for me,' he said. And without another sound or glance, our straddle pact dissolved, the gamble demon fled, and the game reverted to $5-5 blinds.
With the maximum opening bet reduced from $40 to $20, and the deep-stack gamblers gone, the game went flaccid. At 3:30, Elvis went all-in for a couple hundred, got called, and lost. He put three more $100 chips on the table and kept up his happy facade. Nobody could really enjoy losing, could they? First he changed one black chip to a stack of reds. Then he tipped the dealer ten bucks before the next hand. And then he gave us the old, 'Come 'n' git it boys, cuz this is awl you git.'
Translation: If Elvis goes bust, we all go home.
With ten minutes to closing time, the demon flew by and flicked Elvis's ear. Elvis straddled for $10. 'You boys ain't even trying. I said come git it!'
Okay then, if you insist.
I had ace-three of diamonds, so I granted Elvis's request and opened for $40. The next four players fold, fold, fold, folded. The action was on Quinn in the big blind. He added seven more $5 chips to the one he already had in the pot. What? You're calling? Dang Quinn! Get out of my pot!
Elvis called as planned, and we were three. The pot was $120.
Painless Poker Pdf
The flop came Qs, 4d, 2d.
Quinn checked. Elvis checked. I checked.
C'mon diamond!
The turn was the 5d, giving me a five-high straight flush. Quinn checked and Elvis flung a $100 chip into the pot. I didn't know what that meant he had, or care. I called, figuring Quinn would most likely fold, clearing the way for me to scoop up Elvis's last $160 on the river either by picking off a bluff, or beating a legit hand. Then we all go home.
The action was on Quinn. The fingertips of his left hand rested lightly on the backs of his cards while his right hand stroked a column of $25 chips. He was definitely not folding or he already would have. And he hardly ever just calls. That's one of the things I hate about him, I mean, love about him. But hey, I've got the stone cold unbeatable nuts. No fear here.
Go ahead Quinn! Raise it! Please! Do it!
He did. He raised to $400 by gracefully cutting sixteen green chips into four stacks of four, during which time I metaphorically peed my pants.
Elvis folded. It was $300 more to me if I wanted to call. Or I could raise.
I called.
The river was the 8d.
Quinn bet $1,000.
I made it $3,000.
Quinn moved his right hand onto his big-denomination chips. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. Quinn himself was about to pay me off for $2,000 on the river. I was already sculpting my new chip stack in my mind.
Nobody knows how to construct a chip castle like I do. Wow. What a pot. What a night. What a bankroll! I'm moving up to the next strata. I deserve this. I deserve to finally have things break my way in a big way. C'mon Quinn, you know you're calling. Put it in there. Get it over with.
'All in.'
He said.
'Call.'
I said.
And right after I said it, I knew I was beat. That fast. I knew. I knew this was an unwinnable betting sequence, and that I had made a $7,000 mistake.
Painless Poker Tommy Angelo
I don't know where my head goes in hairy situations sometimes. I don't know where my mind goes, but it goes somewhere… else. It doesn't do what it's supposed to do. It doesn't process, solve, and act accordingly. It ceases to function in that way.
We turned our cards over at the same time. Quinn showed the six-seven of diamonds. He had a higher straight flush.
I lost and Quinn won. I lost and Hank won. I lost and The Admiral won.
It's over.
I'm empty.
World-class coach and author, Tommy Angelo is considered a modern master of poker's mental game, and has helped pros and rec players alike achieve less tilt and more focus. Called 'the seminal poker text of the 21st century' by The London Times, Angelo's Elements of Poker has revolutionized how serious players approach the game. His latest book, Painless Poker, already a bestseller, can be found on Amazon.com. Connect with Tommy on Twitter @TheTommyAngelo, and visit his website: tommyangelo.com.
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