And then there was variance...

So I was on a bit of a heater, running $8 into $392 playing almost exclusively 6-max SNGs.

Yes, I had one MTT cash for $50 and then there was the nice monthly stipend from the kind folks at Full Tilt, but almost all of that was winnings. I understood somewhere in my heart that it couldn't last, that I couldn't continue to have my good hands hold up and keep hitting my draws with mathematical regularity.

But the past two days have been freakng ridiculous!

I'm not gonna claim that it's all been bad beats. There has certainly been enough evidence of poor play on my part (why do I insist on trying to make fancy plays with marginal holdings in a $10 SNG?), but cashing in 1 out of my last 15 SNGs has certainly taken a toll on my bankroll, not to mention my confidence. Saturday night, I crushed the last three that I played in the evening, pushing my fledgling roll ever-closer to the 25 buy-ins I want to have before trying the $20 SNGs.

Then there was Sunday, when I played the first 3 SNGs poorly. Too loose early, too tight late, not paying any attention to my position, all the bad things we do.

The last 4 I played on Sunday were better, at least from a play standpoint, but at some point in a tournament, you have to hit a draw to have any hope of success. I failed in that attempt. Sometimes I bet my draws, got raised off my hand, and still missed. Sometimes I called with the correct odds, missed, and folded. Sometimes I called with incorrect odds and missed. Sometimes I called out of position to draw in enough callers to manufacture the appropriate odds (this is what we call and advanced play, which loosely translates into - one which will lose you lots of mobneys), succeeded, and missed my draws.

If you miss every flush draw and open-ended straight draw for four consecutive tournaments, you will likely not cash in them. Trust me.

Then last night the Beats came along. The first couple SNGs I just sucked. I thought my head was in a good space to play, but about 5 minutes into each game, I realized that it wasn't. By this time, it was too late, as I had three tables going and couldn't get my head right. So I losted those, too. Then the next set I managed to get my thinking straight, and batten down the hatches for better play.

And three consecutive bubble finishes. After sitting through a couple of games where I realized that I was playing like a big pussy on the bubble, I decided to play more aggressively, which is likely the correct strategy.

If you can get a hand to hold up, that is. You would think that a short-stack shove in the SB into the big stack, while holding Aces, would be a great move when the big stack calls with AJ. And it is, until two Jacks flop. Left with a handful of chips, I shoved them into the middle on the next hand with A-6. I was unable to return the favor and crack his Aces.

You would also think that a short-stack shoving with As-5s would be thrilled to see an opponent call with Ad-3d. And he was, especially when the flop came down 5x-4s-Xs. Then the 2 on the river managed to give him his 3-outer, while not giving me my flush.

I know it's variance, coupled with my typical bad play, that's led to the disappearance of 1/3 of my online bankroll in 48 hours. I also know that when your bankroll is not quite $400, losing 1/3 of it doesn't equate to much in real-world dollars. But when you go out of your way to actually adhere to sound bankroll management strategies for a change, it still blows.

So I'm gonna suck it up and drop back down to the $5 SNGs until I break back through the $300 mark. The overall goal is to be able to run this meager roll into enough for a low-level WSOP buy-in next summer, because I still think that the Shootout is the best event for an amateur. I'd like to test that theory, and if I can get to $2,000 by June, we'll certainly find out.

Anyway, can't wait 'til Vegas next week, especially as I leave the office to go to a meeting where I play around in the basement of a theatre. We get to the IP around 4-5PM on Thursday, so we could be good and liquored up in time for the Geisha bar meetup that night. And I promised the wife I'd drink enough to sing karaoke with her, so bring earplugs.

No really, I appreciate the fact that I'm dead sexy, with a speaking voice that makes women purr, but my singing voice verges on the tortured rhinoceros variety.

And if you've never heard a tortured rhino, ask Uncle Bracelet about that time there was a really fat chick and a mohawk in Cleveland.