Playing in a poker tournament has some clear differences in psychology from the typical money game setting. I think it is profitable to talk about those differences, both to avoid certain pitfalls yourself and take advantage of weaknesses in others. The importance of the mental side of tournament play is not to be discounted.

When I enter a poker tournament, I am there for the money. I do not care how long I last. I do not care how many or how few scalps I collect. In my opinion, any attitude other than being there for the money is a hindrance to doing your best. There are lots of reasons to play in a poker tournament, but only one is valid: to get the money.

There are many tournament entrants who have little hope of winning, and thus pursue other agendas. When they bust out in a tournament, they want to be able to say something positive about the experience. They want to say things like, “There were more than 400 people in the tournament, and I lasted longer than 300 of them.” (Should one feel great about finishing 100th in an event that pays three tables only?) “I didn’t come in the money, but I knocked out Doyle Brunson.” (He picked up pocket aces, and Doyle foolishly played two kings for the best hand while having a short stack.) What makes one person’s day may differ from another’s. Sometimes being a survivalist will let you sneak into the money, but more often, it will cause you to play too snug, and dog it at critical moments. One must keep in mind that the payoff structure is not linear; the top spots get most of the gelt.

Here is a very destructive habit of a survivalist: A player in a no-limit hold’em tournament raises a pot. The survivalist looks down and has A-K. The raise is to $300, and the survivalist has a grand. He calls the $300, buys no help on the flop, and then folds when the opponent moves him in. The proper play is to reraise all in preflop and gamble. Maybe the opponent will fold. Maybe he will not be pairing until the turn or river. Maybe he has the best hand, and the opponent is making him lay it down. Poker tournaments are a poor place for someone to avoid taking chances.

The opposite of the survivalist is the guy who cares only about winning. His favorite type of event is the rebuy tournament. Two sixes, all in. Ace and a race. (These are some of his better hands.) “Got to get ahold of some chips.” This character can go sailing for so many rebuys that he needs to finish at least third just to make any profit. Needless to say, I would not want to stake this type of player.

Some days, things go well. Your chip stack grows and grows. But seldom does a player sail through and win a tournament without facing some adversity. Sooner or later, he will lose a big pot and a large part of his stack. At such moments, a player goes from feeling like a man of destiny to a hard-luck victim. All of us feel depressed after losing a big pot, but it is essential that you quickly rebound from such a disaster and still keep your head together. Unfortunately, many times a player will go all in very quickly with some ugly holdings, trying to immediately recover from the reversal instead of methodically trying to grind back the money.

A common psychological mistake is playing too snug when being lucky enough to have a big stack. The math boys will tell you that the chips do not all count the same in a tournament. Those belonging to a short stack are made of gold or silver; those belonging to a big stack are made of copper or bronze. You should not be reluctant to risk copper chips to win gold ones. This does not mean that you have to pop it every other pot, but playing hard at the (large) antes and blinds and tangling with short (desperate) stacks is definitely on the menu.

I once asked Dewey Tomko, a great competitor, what he thought was the greatest virtue that poker tournament play demanded. He gave me a terrific answer: “The ability to adjust quickly to a change in circumstance.” Dewey went on to say, “Every time the blinds are raised, a new environment is created. Every time a player leaves or comes to the table, a new environment is created. Every time a big pot results in a new chip leader, a new environment is created. You have to tune in right away to what happens with the mood of the game.”

A poker tournament demands a certain degree of endurance, particularly if it is a one-day event that finishes during the wee hours of the morning. When you have made it into the money, it is easy to say to yourself, “I have played my best to get here; now it’s in the lap of the gods.” The next thing you know, all of your money goes in and you have substantially the worst of it. A player suffering fatigue wants relief, and welcomes a chance to either win a big pot or go home to bed. The latter is all too often the outcome of acting on such feelings. Go ask Jack McClelland sometime about the caliber of poker he’s seen, even from “good” players, in the homestretch of a long poker event. The practice of playing the final table the afternoon of the next day instead of pulling an all-nighter is a welcome improvement on the old way.

For a lengthy tournament like the world championship — it has been lengthened from four days to five this year, a great improvement — there is another enemy to worry about. To do your best, you need a good night’s sleep every night. Dreaming of becoming the new world champion is harmless fantasy most of the time. But when it is close to the end of the tournament, and you have a bunch of chips and are a contender, you must get your head together and get your rest for the combat to come. Yet, many a player, including myself, is running more on adrenaline than a rested body and mind. This will catch up with you.

Psychology plays an important role in poker tournaments. Don’t let a bad attitude or unstable emotions hinder your chance of success. Sure, a small fortune can be at stake for some of your decisions, but the right way to go is to just concentrate on playing the game, instead of thinking about the money or the glory.