Others get tilty when they either put it in bad after being outplayed or when they get beat badly after being outdrawn.

At the table Saturday night, a variation on this theme happened between two players: a young tight one and an old loose one.

Long story short, the young tight player flopped a set but thought he was beat on the river by a straight or a flush. The old loose player flopped a pair of Aces and somehow thought it was good. The tight player was ahead the whole way and simply clapped when he found out he was not going home early. The old loose player got tilty and gave a speech about celebrating.

The hyprocisy was that the loose old player celebrated the next hand when she beat my set of Kings by flopping Broadway with A-10 off. I put her all-in pre-flop and she got lucky.

There was no celebration on the next hand when I was up against the same player. I put her all-in pre-flop with 5-5 and flopped a set to beat A-Q off. The irony is the tight player that clapped in victory was holding 5-5 and flopped a set against her.

For me, every hand is the same; it is just another hand. Win, lose, or bad beat, I never show any emotion either way. It slows the game down and changes your mental attitude. I prefer to maintain a steady course and stay focused on the next hand.

I folded K-K from seat 9 to the lucky lady who raised pre-flop to a measily $15. From her tells, I knew she had A-A.

Like many players, she played the bullets badly pre-flop and could not get away from them after the flop.

Just because you have the best starting hand, pocket Aces become damn near worthless many times after the flop. It is just a pair.

The flop comes 9h-9s-6s.

Three players are in the hand. Seat 5 bets out $50. Seat 6 calls. Seat 7 calls.

That is a disaster flop for A-A. You can’t beat trips or quads. You can’t beat a full house. And if one of your opponents is holding a straight draw and flush draw, you are a 2-to-1 dog to win the hand.

If it was me, I would have folded the Aces right there. But then again, I would have bet $45 pre-flop to get the A-9, K-9, and 9-6 type hands out of the pot.

The turn card is a King.

Seat 5 bets out $100. Seat 6 raises to $300. Seat 7 calls, followed by a call by Seat 5.

The river is an Ace. Very interesting card here.

Seat 5 goes all-in for another $300. Seat 6 knows he is now beat but feels pot committed and calls. Seat 7, of course, calls.

Seat 5 turns over A-9 for a rivered boat to beat seat 6 who flopped 9s full of 6s.

That’s right. The flop brought the case 9. See that all the time. A case card coming on the flop.

The lucky lady in seat survived being a 50-to-1 by catching the case Ace on the river for Aces full of 9s.

At that point, I shake my head. Another poorly played hand that got rewarded. This is when seat 8 starts treating the lucky lady like a pro.

I never judge or criticize the play of others at the table. It is their money. What do I care? But, if someone is wrong in their commentary, I will speak up and set it straight.

“That was pure luck. No read involved there. Hell, I am the one with the great read. I laid down Kings pre-flop and would have had Kings full on the turn and a total disaster on the river,” I say.

Seat 8 says, “What do you mean it was pure luck?”

“If she really had a good read, she would have folded on the flop knowing one player had trip 9s and the other one had a boat. Even if they only had a straight draw and flush draw, she is still behind in the hand. She caught the case Ace to win when she as a 50-to-1 dog to pull it out. That was luck not a read, bro.”

The lucky lady then says, “Sammy is right. I am not getting away from Aces. I got lucky. But here is the thing. I am here to have fun. I walked in with $200 and I expect to walk out with nothing.”

And 98 times out of 100, she walks out scratching her broke ass all the way home.

Dead wrong.

I crushed a cash game yesterday. With all the easy money gone, I decided to play a small tournament.

My rationale? I was freerolling from the cash game. In hindsight, I pissed away 80 bucks.

I am at a table with several strong players, several weak players, and one big donkey.

What do I look for when hunting donkeys? Ones that play every pot at any cost and win with sheer luck.

These players never raise. They have three tools: call, call, and call.

I was playing perfectly. Right hands, right position, right reads.

Flash forward two hours into the tournament.

I am sitting on an above average chip stack. Exactly where I want to be.

The players at my end of the table are talking about The Donkey and how he has played every hand and wins on the river.

I make a comment about having to go all-in against him to push him off a marginal hand. I think to myself that this play may not be enough.

A few minutes later, I get the chance to put this into action.

I get K-Q in late position and raise.

Normally, I would limp in, but I wanted to build a pot then take it down on the flop if I hit a pair or better.

So, I raise 10X the big blind.

The Donkey is in early position and he is my only customer.

Now, keep in mind that I have been building a table image so far by showing every uncalled winning hand. I have shown A-A, K-K, a set of 10s, and 8-8. I have also  been calling out other player’s hands.

In fact, have not lost a hand yet.

All for naught.

The flop comes K-10-7 rainbow.

My customer checks.

I feel he is weak. If I go slow, he could draw out on me.

I decide to play it fast and hope he folds.

“I am all-in,” I declare.

He pauses.

This call is for half his stack.

If he folds, it will be his first fold of the day.

He counts out the chips.

“You are way behind here. You are a 4-to-1 dog right now and are getting only 1 1/2-to-1 to call,” I tell him.

“I got a hand,” he says.

“You do. You have the losing hand.”

“How the fuck do you know what I got?” he asks.

“The problem here is you don’t know what I got. At best, you have bottom pair. You need to get real lucky to win this hand.”

He throws the chips in.

I show top pair.

He gets pissed and slams his cards down.

Sure enough, he has 9-7 off.

The turn is a 4.

One card away from either a double up or a bust out.

The river? A fucking 9.

The worst feeling in the world is playing it right, putting it in good, and getting beat by pure luck.

Did he get lucky or did I get unlucky?

I am not sure, but I know this: bad players seem to have an abundance of good luck.

In retrospect, I should have just checked it down. If he bets, that would tell me he hit two pair or better.

How someone can call off half their stack on bottom pair is beyond my ability to rationalize.

But then again, these kinds of players play poker like the slot machines: put the money in, pull the lever, and hope for the best.

The common denominator is fatigue.

Fatigue is my number one enemy on a losing session.

Why? It is simple. Fatigue affects your judgment, which, in turn, affects the quality of hands you play and the accuracy of your reads.

Fatigue also affects your aggressiveness. People become passive when they are tired.

Before you know it, you start bleeding off chips on trash hands. Then, you begin to chase cards in an attempt to regain your stack – the stack that was built when fatigue was not a factor.

Do yourself a favor and stop playing when you begin to feel tired.