FOREWORD, by Matt Bolt
There are two things you need to know about Dusty Schmidt:
- He has no use for lazy. A lot of people get into poker because they’re running away from something. Dusty is only interested in people who are running toward something.
- Even though this book presents a structure for you to apply to your poker business, Dusty’s is not a one-size-fits-all philosophy. He wants your game to evolve just as his did. Honestly, at the end of the day, I think what Dusty wants is for people to be happy. Poker liberated him from a life he didn’t want and opened doors to the one he did. I think he sees that possibility as existing for anyone who commits. But make no mistake: you have to commit. To Dusty, there’s a higher standard than dollars won, and that’s the integrity of your effort. If that’s there, success will follow.
I first met Dusty when I was selling pest-control services. Seriously. But it was actually the job I had before that — and how I came to leave it — that I think made Dusty feel he could work with me.
I graduated in Dec. 2005 from Winthrop University in Rock Hill, South Carolina, with a degree in management. I had my commencement ceremonies on Saturday, and started work for my stepdad’s roofing company in Simpsonville on Monday. Since the age of 15, it had been preordained that I’d one day take over the business.
It was a great job by most any standard. My stepdad and I have a good relationship, and he created the job for me. There was no interview, no resume. I had no set responsibilities, other than sitting in the office next to his, looking busy and waiting for him to retire.
Oddly, I found myself jealous of friends who had far worse jobs than mine, because they’d earned the positions themselves. I knew I was blessed. But I also knew I needed to do my own thing.
So I took a job in outside sales for Orkin Pest Control. The sales experience and freedom were big plusses; my jerk boss was a big minus. Again, I found myself dissatisfied.
At the time, I’d never have thought I’d end up playing poker for a living, even when I was confident in my ability to be a long-term winner. I’m conservative with my money, and I just felt I couldn’t gamble to pay the bills.
My brother had introduced me to online poker. I’d been playing and improving, but had massive issues with tilt and bankroll management. I got a membership at Stoxpoker.com, which is where I first became aware of the legend of “Leatherass,” the grinder who at that time was just coming off achieving Poker Stars’ SuperNova Elite status in just eight months. His win ratio over massive sample sizes was totally unprecedented. I watched all of Dusty’s videos and read his blogs. Being naïve, I sent him a private message venting about my frustrations with my game. I asked if he’d be willing to coach me.
Dusty is fond of golf analogies, so I’ll use one here. It was basically as though he’d just come off winning a major championship, and here I was a 15-handicap asking for a lesson.
I told him my story, and I think I struck him as someone who really wanted to learn and put in the work to be great — even though I didn’t envision poker as a profession at the time.
He was very nice and made me feel better about my circumstance. While he said he didn’t have the time to work with me, his good buddy Matt Amen did. I eventually traveled to Las Vegas to meet Matt and Dusty at the World Series of Poker in June 2007 and we hit it off really nicely.
I’d been making $500-$1,000 a month playing a couple of nights a week. Still, Matt hounded me to quit my job and play poker full time. “Why do you go to work every day?” he asked. “It’s so stupid.” I had to admit, the freedom these guys seemed to enjoy was alluring. They were living the dream. Convinced, I left my job in late 2007, and was able to ratchet my earnings up to a modest $2,000-$3,000 a month playing .25/.50 NL. My expenses were $1,500, so I was getting by.
But complacency was seeping in. Like the guys in the movie “Office Space,” my goal had been to not do anything I didn’t want to do. So I played video games, watched TV and went on trips. I felt like a 13-year-old on summer vacation. I quickly forgot that poker was my job, and I was falling woefully shy of the commitment I’d made to myself to play 30-40 hours a week.
In Jan. 2008, I went on a terrifyingly bad run. I had no financial cushion, and I was genuinely scared I was going to have to get yet another job to which I’d hate going every day.
I called Dusty in February and convinced him I’d seen the error in my ways. He said he’d be willing to work out a staking deal with me. His idea was for me to move up in limits aggressively and not worry about bankroll — what was his was mine. At that point, I’d never had $10,000 to my name.
There were provisions to our deal. In hindsight, the business-oriented, workmanlike structure that Dusty provided me with injected a great work ethic into my life that lasts today. Not only was I accountable to him; I was accountable to myself. I had to play 16,000 hands per week minimum. I could fall shy one week, but if it happened again the deal was off. He would review all of my hands with me. He taught me how to read, review and contemplate hands in my head. He also wanted me to email him five questions a week on topics with which I’d been struggling. We’d talk them out and let our minds wander. It was really invigorating. Now poker was at the center of my life, and nothing was going to stop me.
Because of his investment in me, I really wanted my results to be good. It would have been easier to lose my own money than to lose someone else’s, especially someone who’d been as good to me as Dusty had. I didn’t want to just mindlessly grind out hands. I wanted to make him money. There’s where my improvement came from. It was that deal with Dusty, and his requiring me to do the necessary work, that made me what I am today.
With no bankroll concerns, I went up to 1/2 NL right away. I was working diligently, and the results were immediate. After peaking previously at $3,000, I had my first $10,000 month in March. In April I made $20,000, and I made $30,000 in May. In November, I had a $100,000 month.
One problem I’d always had was leaving my results behind when I was done playing. A bad session would ruin my day, even my week.
Dusty recommended I work with his performance coach, Jared Tendler, whose thoughts on poker psychology also appear in this book. Jared helped me to rationalize variance and get over my issues with tilt. Now I can play longer and think more clearly.
Most importantly, Dusty got me thinking about my game in absolute business terms. My mentality when I lost, say, $5,000 was to think, “What could I have done with that amount of money? How could I have lost it?” But it was never my money. I needed money to make more money. I didn’t lose a nice TV — it was never my money to begin with. Money was not money, it was inventory. My bankroll was for buy-ins, not cars.
My most telling moment with Dusty came not when I was winning, but when I wasn’t. After taking in $30,000 in May 2008, I went through a stretch of 100,000 hands where I broke completely even. Dusty was getting killed on our deal. I was playing 20 tables at 2/4 NL and 3/6 NL. I had a big fear of moving up to 5/10 NL — the notion of losing $1,000 on a hand of poker was too much for me to bear.
Dusty called me and I was expecting him to say the deal was off. Instead, his reaction blew my mind. He said he didn’t want our deal to end, but he did want me to drop down in tables and move up in limits. I’d made no money for 100,00 hands, but in true Dusty form, his answer wasn’t to just quit. Instead, we analyzed things as business partners and found a better way. And as I mentioned before, we were both rewarded when I had a $100,000 month that November.
Our games have diverged this past year. I have a bit more gamble in me, so I’ll play fewer tables, but do it at higher stakes. I do much better when I’m challenging the limits. For him, the metric that matters is volume.
But I continue to install the business practices he taught me at the outset. And I continue to go all out whenever I’m at the tables. As Dusty would tell you, putting in the hours is pointless if the time spent isn’t quality time. Now I want to do everything I can to maximize my expectations for the time that I play.
You’re in good hands with Treat Your Poker Like A Business. With Dusty’s help, I’m in the business of trying to achieve my “A’ game all the time.
Matt Bolt is an instructor at Stoxpoker.com.
