Arhghghg.
Let me repeat: arhghghg!
I just played an 1800-point single-table SnG that paid the top three spots with $26 tokens. I played a tight, cautious, but aggressive game and easily made it to the bubble with a tie for the chip lead. The two short stacks at the table were trading chips back and forth, firing all-ins at each of us, trying to make something happen and generally fighting for their tournament lives. All I really had to do was sit back, stay ahead of the blinds, and let the eventual battle between the two shorties occur. In my mind, I was already counting my chickens; I just had to coast and I'd make it into the money. What could be easier?
One of the shorties was sitting two to my right, and more than half of the time it folded to him on the button he shoved all-in on my blind. "No problem," I told myself. I'm stealing my fair share, too. More importantly, the second shorty was sitting to my immediate right and almost never shoved on me when it folded to him. He gave me walk after walk, so I basically was staying up around T4000 to T4500 without trying too hard. I just needed to stay vigilant.
Then the following thing happened: four times in a row, the first shorty shoved on my blind and I folded. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, but something inside of me was starting to get a little, I don't know, subconsciously peeved I guess. I mean, come on. Everyone knows you're shoving with air, I thought. Next time I wake up to a playable hand, you're toast.
Can you say, dumb? After just telling myself I could make it to the money by just sitting tight and vigilant, I immediately started thinking about ways to sink this pirate to bottom of the felt.
Of course, the very next time I had the big blind and was shoved on, I looked down and saw 99. Without even really thinking it through, I insta-called. The opp turned over some crap hand like T6o, spiked his T, and I was now one of the two shorties at the table. Arhghg. Just like that, I went from one of the chip leaders to one of the desperate guys. It was my turn to be the all-in guy.
I had my short-stacking spreadsheet open, so I started firing away and managed to make a little headway, but of course it was just a matter of time before someone did the same thing I had just done; i.e., call one of my all-ins with a playable hand... but this time, their hand held up and I was sent packing. Arhghg. From hero to zero in eight or nine quick hands.
The lesson I need to take away from this fiasco is twofold: first, don't take anything for granted in a tournament; when I'm in a comfortable spot in a tourney, with a better than average shot of making the money, I need to stay cautious and alert. If I'd just taken a few seconds to think it through, I would have realized I was probably, at best, getting into a coin flip with my nines. Calling was equivalent to letting luck take over, so why do it? Why indeed.
The second lesson is an extension of the first: NEVER call an all-in preflop unless there's a damn good reason to do so. Trying to dodge the bullet with a middle pair like 99 was idiotic. Why gamble on the button unless I have to? Fire the gun, don't dodge the hail of gunfire coming from two short-stacks. One of them would take a bullet for the team if I just let them continue doing what they were doing. I had my fair share of chances to steal, and I was doing so successfully, staying ahead of the blinds and just having to wait for one of the shorties to make a mistake.
Pity that it was me instead that made the mistake. Arghgh.
All-in for now...
-Bug
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