Moving Up

How to Move Up to High-Stakes Poker Without Going Broke

Everybody who plays poker seriously wants to move up. Bigger games, bigger pots, the feeling that you have arrived. I understand it, because I did it faster than almost anyone: I went from asking questions on the rail to playing the biggest games in Las Vegas in about a year. Some of that was good. Some of it was a mistake I still think about. This is the honest version.

Where I actually play

People assume "high limit" means the nosebleed games you see on TV. My regular games are $80/160 limit hold'em and $100/200 mixed games. In no-limit I usually sit at $25/50, which for years was the biggest no-limit game spread at the Bellagio. The biggest no-limit I have played is $100/200. That is high stakes by any reasonable standard, and I got there by being patient, not by being brave.

The game I should never have played

The highest game I ever sat in was $1,500/3,000 limit hold'em, and it was not my decision so much as my ego's. My partner at the time got up from the table to go to the restroom and I slid into her seat. I was on the button, I picked up a pair of queens, and I decided to play them. I was so new to poker that I was not even playing $8/16 yet.

The player next to me flopped an ace. He bet, and he looked at me like he was trying to tell me something. He wanted me to fold. Flop, turn, river, every street he gave me a chance to get out, and every street I called. When the hand was over I had lost a few dozen thousand dollars in about four minutes.

The next day he showed up at my front door with the money. He felt bad about beating a beginner. I told him no. If I had won, I would have kept it. That is the only honest answer at a poker table.

I tell that story first because every "how to move up" article is written as if moving up is a math problem. It is partly a math problem. It is mostly a discipline problem, and I failed it in the most expensive way possible before I had even started.

Rule one: the game, not the money, decides if you belong

I could afford that $1,500/3,000 hand. That was exactly the problem. "I can afford it" and "I should play it" are two different sentences. Before you sit in a bigger game ask one question: have I beaten the game below this one, over a real sample, with players who are trying to beat me? If the answer is no, the size of your bankroll does not matter. You are not moving up, you are gambling.

Rule two: take shots, but take them on purpose

A shot is when you play a game above your normal level for a planned, limited amount. The key word is planned. Decide before you sit how much you are willing to lose, usually one or two buy-ins, and when that money is gone you get up without discussion. A shot you take because the seat happened to be open, like mine was, is not a shot. It is an accident waiting for a bill.

Rule three: the bigger game is a different game

At $25/50 and above the players are not just better, they are more aware. They know who you are, they know how you played the last three sessions, and they will adjust. The style that beat $5/10, where you could wait for good hands and get paid, gets punished when nobody pays you off. You need a real reason to be in a pot, and you need to be comfortable folding hands that would have been automatic calls below.

Rule four: moving down is not a failure

Every long-term winner I know has moved down at some point. Losing streaks happen to good players. The ones who survive are the ones who drop back a level, rebuild, and come back. The ones who disappear are the ones who kept playing big to win it back. If you cannot stand the idea of playing smaller, you are not ready to play bigger.

What I would tell a younger me

Beat the game you are in until it is boring. Keep a bankroll that makes the next level a small risk, not a life event (I cover the numbers in the bankroll article). Take shots on a schedule, not on a whim. And when a stranger at a $1,500/3,000 table is practically begging you to fold your queens, fold your queens.