I’ve gone through a decent share of downswings - playing shorthanded, some of them are pretty damn brutal - and I’ve found myself doubting my own game, again and again. When you feel like you’re doing everything right, it feels completely unfair to be losing money. When that monster MONSTER pot where I flopped a set gets busted by a runner runner flush, I get angry.

And I start to question my own play. Not in that particular hand, perhaps, but overall. Am I not folding on the flop often enough? Do I overvalue outs? Am I bluffing too sparsely? Too often? Etc. This is as inevitable consequence of a downswing as getting angry about a monster getting cracked is.

So what to do? I can’t say what works for you, but I’ve learned what works for me. I don’t take time off, per se, but I get tired of playing. I sit down at the computer, consider opening up Stars, and then just sigh and shake my head and figure that I don’t want to lose anymore money right now. I go surf some message boards and end up playing some arcade game or whatnot. I know I’m feeling downtrodden about my game, and I’m guessing that not playing at that time is probably a good idea.

But then I pick up a poker book, and I usually re-read the introductory chapter, the one where the author tries to tell you how you can be a real winner at poker if you just follow his or her advice. They often qualify it with statements like “in the long run” or so. I realize that they’re telling the truth (a truth that I’ve often repeated myself on these forums), and I get somewhat strengthened by that. I take some solace in the fact that there are better players than myself who have gone on longer downswings than I have.

… and then I decide to work on some aspect of my game. Whatever I feel like I have the most issues with at the moment. And I turn to a chapter that deals with that aspect. Last time, it was flop play. I felt like I was playing some of my borderline overcard hands inproperly, and I learned a thing or two. I thought about different situations I had played in, how the concepts in the book applied, and I got excited about the prospect of playing again.

Not because I thought that “hey, NOW I can beat the game.” It’s never like that. I already consciously know I can beat the game. What I get from doing this reading has actually nothing to do with becoming better at the game itself, it has to do with me taking my mind off of the money, and onto the game itself. I get excited about playing again for the intellectual challenge of it. I ignore the bankroll completely - well, I’m sticking within limits that I can afford to play, of course, I just stop looking at the results - and sit down to play for the challenge, not for the money.

And I find myself with a new found energy, my game revitalized. I play with more confidence, with more aggression, and I enjoy the game a lot more.

When the game is about the money, it’s only fun in the upswings. When I can take my sight off of the money, and onto the game itself, I start to enjoy it on a whole other level. If I don’t care about the results, I end up making better decisions and may even laugh at a horrible stupid beat. And in the end, it makes me a better poker player and that in turn makes me more money.

Being a goal-oriented person (I’m very much a goal-oriented person) it’s hard not to look at my bankroll and set out new goals for myself. Maybe not write them down on paper and say “I want to win another $500 in the next two weeks,” but the thought is still there. I focus too much on my winnings, and too little on the game I play.

There’s a real sense of enjoyment to be had from playing good, solid poker, regardless of how your bankroll is doing. If you’re properly rolled for the limits you play, you can withstand the swings. I’ve found that the best reason for keeping a solid bankroll for whatever game you play is so that you don’t have to worry about the money.

… Because money is the worst part of poker.

/Fredrik