To become a successful poker player one must acquire the ability to completely and totally peel one's ego entirely from one's self while at the table. You must become one within the game and let no part of your own psyche play a role in the decisions you make. Of course it goes without saying this is far easier said than it is done. We all know that the plays made while playing our game need to be based on cold information, both whole as well as partial. Pot odds, analysis of player's tendencies, and motivation of opponents moves are a few things to be taken into consideration when arriving at a conclusion of how to proceed in a hand. Far too often though I see, as well as commit myself, the sin of allowing ego to creep in and direct how a hand, or several hands, are played. Through this series of columns we will take a look at how the ego can creep into our games, and how it can force chips to creep out of our stacks.

Part I: The Duel
Think about it. How often do you see a player just begin playing so raggedly that it is just silly to think they had any chance of winning whatsoever? It can arise when one player has just been handing another player their hat, and in some cases their shoes, pants, and shirt as well. This is often enough to completely knock the losing player off their game. Suddenly it's a mano-a-mano situation for the loser and he/she is willing to take the worst of it repeatedly just to get a chance to smack the winning player back. Just to get one baby smack in even.

I need look no further than myself to illustrate this point perfectly for you. So perfectly it stings actually. It was just this last year's WSOP and I was about third in chips, with around 23,000, going into the last hour before dinner break of the $3000 pot limit hold'em event. I was feeling good, playing well, and knocking players out left and right. It was honestly a slaughter at our table, the "Table of Death" as we started calling it. There had probably been 8 knock outs in the last hour and a half or so leading up to my own funeral...

We found our battlefield repopulated with three new faces and the cards were back in the air. I was dealt AK in middle position and was really beginning to feel that this was just going to be my day. I brought it in normally and had one caller, the button. The flop came down spectacularly, 6 8 A, and I made my bet and was greeted with a raise from the button. I chose to just call, as my hand was so strong. I was quite sure I had another killer here and didn't want this player to get away easily. The obvious choice here was another ace, but with a worse kicker. The turn came 3, along with a bet from my opponent, and a check-raise from me. He just called and we moved along. The river delivered the 10, and a bet from me, with just a call from my opponent. I flipped up my AK and expected to rake in another pot, but was rudely greeted by my foe's A10. Whap! I had been slapped down like Oliver asking for more food. "Please sir, just a few more chips..."

I was disappointed to have been drawn out on so brutally, but hey, that's the game. No worries. I shook it off and we moved along.

Just two hands later I looked down at 99 on the button. There was a raise and two callers ahead of me, so I just called in hopes of flopping a set and taking down a nice pot. My wish was answered and when the board was complete it read K 5 9 3 10. There had been, predictably, a ton of action and only my opponent from the previous hand and I were still standing at the end. I found myself having to call a worrisome raise on the river and almost jumped out of my chair when I was shown the 1010, for a rivered higher set than mine! Aargh, now this one burned badly! I had gone from about 23,000 in chips down to 9,000 in only two hands! That had to be some kind of record.

Now I was really angry, personally angry even. Who was this punk sent along to my table? He was single handedly ending my iron-clad grip on this set of 9 individuals. I had them begging to be let out of hands with me, and he was making me look just like...like...any other player. It's not good to show chinks in the armor when you have been assassinating players for three hours straight. It tends to give hope back to those left alive. I had to do something. I had to get this chap back for all he had done to me.

What?! Sound ridiculous? It is! It's completely absurd. I wanted that guy though. I wanted to slap him back, if only for the way he smiled at having sucked out on me. You know that kind of player who rather than take his winning hand and be silent about it, he wanted to publicly celebrate it as if the win had anything to do with his playing the hand well. At any rate, in my brain I had decided I needed to kill him. Violently if at all possible.

Unfortunately I had let this fellow get under my skin and I had stopped playing poker. I had completely let my own ego take over and do the playing for me at this point. Man, this was a huger than huge sin on the tables.

Another round or so later I picked up 77 in the big blind and called this same player's raise from middle position, along with two other players. I'll tell you what happened next, but bear in mind...I'm not proud of it people. The flop came down J 10 8, and I checked. The "evil" player bet out and both other players folded.

Now is where it gets good, er, bad. I check-raised the player for around 4000 chips, I believe. Say what?! That's right. Dumber than dumb me on the button decided to make a move with a pair smaller than the board, basically a stone-cold bluff. Yeah, I was the man. I was going to beat this player back down a little. Oh, if it had only worked out that way.

I blame it on temporary insanity, or maybe just a fighter's mentality. Who knows? I guess I just decided that he had to be holding AK and I was going to take the pot away. The real truth was that I had let my own ego blind me, and had just made a hilariously amateurish move.

At any rate, he called, and the turn was the 6. I had to bet out again, and this time he moved me all-in. I didn't see how I could fold, with so many chips in the pot, and such a high percentage of mine being there. Even though I knew that I had to be hopelessly behind, I sadly called. I was then showed pocket 8's, good enough for a set for my opponent and putting me woefully behind. Only a nine would save me on the river, and it didn't drop.

I was out just like that, and was literally in shock for the rest of the night. I had fallen so far so fast that I thought you could actually see tracers from my seat heading out of the poker room at the Rio. This is still the moment that I think about when I reflect on the 2005 WSOP. Not the two final tables that I made, but the chance that I blew my shot at a third. Blew it spectacularly, I might add. If you're gonna fail, might as well do it in grand fashion, right?

I ran into Thor Hansen, who had been watching the hand from the sidelines, and he just shook his head and gave me the "What in the name of all the waffles at breakfast was that all about?" look. If only I had an answer for him. I had fallen into the trap of trying to play poker against only one other player at the table, instead of all eight. I was so consumed with getting this fellow back that I got myself knocked right out of an event where I was in a great position.

I drew my sword, lost the hand, and even managed to lose the duel in the process. Don't make this mistake. We are all at the table for the same reason: to completely destroy everyone else there. How absurd is it then to get angry when someone gets a few jabs in on you in the process? Ask yourself that question next time you feel the need to try and "get someone back". You go ahead and try to win the money. Let the losers try and win the duel.