Poker players are an eccentric lot. Whether we base our strategy decisions on mathematical expectation, a gut feeling, or the whim of the moment, we all have peculiarities. For example, take favorite hands. They can be on the junky side or they can be downright rubbish, but for some private reason—we’ve won a lot with that hand in the recent past, or the combination of the two numbers has some special meaning—we feel good whenever we look down to see those two particular cards.
Then there’s the other side of the coin: least-favorite hands. I’m not talking about the obvious holdings like 7-2 or 8-3 off-suit. Yes, it’s annoying to look down and discover a couple of raggedy junk cards in your hand. But the annoyance is fleeting; cards like these are easily thrown away and instantly forgotten.
No, I’m talking about the hands that are good enough to play, often good enough to raise with, and yet you dread the idea of getting them. The hands you hope the dealer never gives you because somehow, against all odds, these cards always seem to lose money for you. Big pairs that are vulnerable to overcards—pocket jacks, pocket tens, even queens. Aces and kings paired up with moderate-strength kickers. Primo cards that look good but can never seem to deliver the goods.
Perhaps it was a another river ace that killed yet another pair of queens, or a long unbroken string of ace-high flops every time you held pocket jacks, or a freakishly unlucky series of hands where some other player always managed to have A-K whenever you got A-Q. Whatever the reason the result is the same—we feel apprehension about playing a least-favorite hand. Cards that should be a seen as a great opportunity have become our own personal poker Kryptonite.
Unlike the ugly-but-benign 7-2 offsuit that’s easily folded, a least-favorite hand cannot be thrown away without a second thought. Barring a large pre-flop raise in front of you—and sometimes even with such a raise—you pretty much have to play the hand. And barring a horrendous flop that makes it crystal-clear you’re beaten, these hands can be excruciatingly difficult to get away from after the flop.
But if we can’t throw our least-favorite hand into the muck pile, we can do the next-closest thing. We can play it timidly. We don’t bet, don’t raise, or don’t raise enough. Please, please, don’t let me lose again with this hand, or at least, don’t let me lose too much. This is the real danger of the least-favorite hand: the fear it conjures up in our minds. Just as favorite hands make us feel invulnerable, least-favorite hands make us feel like a sitting duck. It’s not a feeling that exactly encourages strong aggressive play.
Whenever I look down to see pocket jacks I don’t think, “Yay, I’ve got a premium hand! I can’t wait to raise.” No, the thought process is more along the lines of, “Oh, #*@&! I have to raise.” Believing in my heart that an overcard is going to flop and then I’ll have to kiss those raising chips goodbye. The fact that I still raise pre-flop with jacks is a victory of sheer will over emotion. But it’s not a battle I always win. There have been times—too many—when I neglected to raise pre-flop with jacks and went on to lose the hand, only to discover that I probably would have won had I pushed out that pre-flop raise.
Least-favorite hands are the poster children for Monsters Under the Bed Syndrome. The result is that the hand usually gets played in a half-hearted manner, which in turn virtually guarantees more losses. So the “curse” of the hand keeps going indefinitely. The way to break the curse is to see the cards as they really are: strong but vulnerable holdings that, when played correctly, are profitable in the long run.
Barbara Connors is a sucker for classic old movies, science fiction, and the St. Louis Cardinals. Her life’s ambition is to figure out the unusual behavior patterns of that unique breed of humans who call themselves poker players. Contact her at fyreflye222@yahoo.com.
»
