Introduction

TWO PATHS, ONE DISCIPLINE

NEW YORK CITY – April 2003 – I surveyed my opponent as we bowed to begin the last round of the men’s heavyweight final. His uniform pants were torn and he was covered in sweat, but there was still fight in his eyes.

“Chung: 2, Hong: 4,” the center ref shouted, calling the score by the color of our chest guards.

Four? I couldn’t recall getting hit, but now I saw red. I would have to see more of it if I wanted to win the match. I was in my third fight, while my opponent was only in his second. Who needs a bye? I was physically exhausted, but a two-point deficit going into the final round was enough to get my blood up. I wasn’t losing without a fight.

The instant the ref began the final round, I was skipping in with a side kick. My opponent retreated a step, so I spun and followed up with a back kick. My heel landed just above the belt. He was jolted and out of room to run. Seizing the opportunity, I swung my rear leg above my head and brought it down on my opponent’s face.

My solid axe kick to the face prompted an eight count from the ref. My lungs burned as I tried to catch my breath. When the fight continued, we clinched a few times and threw some useless kicks. My opponent was docked a point for trying to back fist me in the face. It’s a good technique, but not allowed in our Taekwon-Do competition. My mental tally left the score even. Time to dig down for one last charge.

When something works, I like to try it again. I charged in with another skipping side-kick, back-kick, axe-kick combination. For the second time in two minutes, my foot connected squarely with my opponent’s face.

There was blood.

LAS VEGAS – July 2007 – I was down to my last three big bets. In a cash game, I would never be in this situation. There’s no sense getting short stacked when you can buy more chips. But this wasn’t a cash game. I was playing in the World Series Of Poker. Granted, it was the cheapest event in the WSOP, but it felt like the big time to a small-stakes grinder like myself. We were playing SHOE, which is a rotation of four fixed-limit games: Seven Card Stud, Holdem, Omaha Hi/Lo, and Stud Hi/Lo (Eight Or Better).

I had survived the grueling ten hours of Day 1 by playing good, aggressive poker. This event was held in a tent behind the Rio, so on this 117-degree Vegas day, drinking lots of water also helped me survive. Day 2 was inside the air-conditioned poker room. I was comfortable, but I couldn’t get anything going. Through a round of Stud and a round of Holdem, I was dealt zero quality hands, and only one profitable stealing scenario appeared. I was staying disciplined, but the time for patience was at an end. The blinds were going up and my chips were going down. The bubble was approaching. Out of 800 players, only 90 remained. About 80 of those would make it to the money. I would have loved to cruise to the cash, but this was not an option. It was time to find something and go with it.

The game was Omaha when I finally picked up a hand worth committing to. I got all my chips in with an excellent two-way hand, but wound up chopping the pot. That left me right where I’d started. Two hands later, I got it in on the flop with another great scooper, this time to receive only one quarter of the pot. Finally, I picked up A335 and put all my chips in for the third time.

I won neither of these tournaments. I lost 4-4 by decision in the Taekwon-Do championship, and I busted just before the bubble in the WSOP. Despite losing, I was proud of my effort in both cases.

It would have been easy to mail it in, down by two in the last round of my third fight. My chances of winning at that point were small. I was tired, and it was going to take a lot of grit just to give myself a chance. I had to reach down for something extra, but I found a way to give myself that chance.

It would have been easy to start blindly firing chips at the pot in the WSOP. Not playing a hand for hours can be frustrating. It’s easy to give in to temptation and just play the cards you’re dealt, or to zone out and miss an opportunity. I had played ten hours the day before and I was tired. Nonetheless, I waited patiently for a profitable opportunity and, once I found one, took action.

I am not a soldier, but more than a decade of martial-arts practice has helped me develop a warrior’s mindset. A warrior approaches each task with single-minded focus and disregard for transient pleasure and pain. There is only the goal and what must be done to achieve it.

Whether I’m competing in the ring or at a poker table, I’m going to do everything I can to win. I am going to prepare by training hard and with efficiency. I am going to pick apart my opponent, find a weakness, and attack it without mercy.

In fighting, as in poker, there is variance. I don’t always immediately realize the fruits of my labor. Sometimes I give my best effort and come up short. Those times I don’t win, I’m going to look for the lessons to give me a better chance the next time.

I was able to apply many of the concepts I learned from Taekwon-Do, my martial art of choice, to poker. This helped me make a living immediately upon leaving the martial-arts business. There are other opportunities to apply these concepts that I’ve only realized while writing this book. In fact, if I could have read what I’m writing four years ago, I would have progressed even faster than I did.

You don’t need to practice martial arts for a decade to apply this wisdom to your game (although I would not discourage it). I’ve already done that for you. I’ve condensed that wisdom and distilled the concepts most applicable to the game of poker.

As a fourth-degree black belt (master) of Taekwon-Do, a professional mid-stakes Holdem player, and an experienced teacher of both disciplines, I am uniquely suited to write this book. I have taught Taekwon-Do since 2001; I have run a martial arts school in Times Square; and I am a lead instructor for the poker training site Drag the Bar. I have also taught dozens of private students in poker and martial arts.

In the first section of this book, I will show you how I developed my skills as a martial artist and how you can develop your poker skills the same way. This is how we train.

The second section is about combat. I will show you how to apply fighting concepts to your poker game. The strategy and game theory of heads up play is directly analogous to one-on-one fighting. I will also show you how I think as a fighter and as a player, and how you can achieve the same mindset.

Finally, I will discuss conduct. This section is about how we treat ourselves and how we treat others. Both are integral to completing our understanding of the warrior’s mindset.

I want you to make more money playing poker. In order to do this, I need you to spend less time thinking about money, and more time thinking about poker. The way of the poker warrior is process oriented. By focusing on the process, you will become less results oriented. You will learn quicker and perform better.

If you are a losing or breakeven player, you will become profitable more quickly. If you are a winning player with hopes of going pro, you’ll be able to do that more quickly. If you are already a professional, you’ll become a more confident player and make more money as a result. Regardless of your current level of skill, Way of the Poker Warrior will help you have more fun, endure less stress, and make more money while playing the game you love.