Look, I’ve been grinding online poker tournaments for years, and let me tell you, the shine wears off fast. You start thinking it’s all about skill, outsmarting the table, reading bluffs like a pro. But the reality? It’s a soul-crushing slog. The variance is brutal—hours of perfect play can evaporate with one bad beat from some dude chasing a flush with 7-2 offsuit. You’re not just battling opponents; you’re fighting the RNG gods who don’t care about your A-game.
Tournaments sound glamorous with those massive prize pools, but the truth is, most players are bleeding money. The rake eats you alive—every buy-in chips away at your bankroll before you even see a flop. And the time commitment? Forget it. A decent MTT can lock you in for 6-8 hours, sometimes more, just to bubble or min-cash for pennies. You’re glued to your screen, ignoring life, chasing a final table that might not even cover your coffee addiction.
Then there’s the mental toll. The swings mess with your head—win a tourney, and you’re invincible; lose ten in a row, and you’re questioning every decision you’ve ever made. Tilt creeps in, and suddenly you’re shoving all-in with Q-10 like it’s the nuts. Even when you’re disciplined, the grind feels like running on a treadmill—exhausting effort, same scenery. Cash games at least let you walk away when you’re up. Tournaments? You’re committed until you’re broke or a miracle happens.
I’m not saying don’t play. If you love poker, fine, grind away. But don’t kid yourself about the glory. For every pro streaming their big score, there’s a thousand others burning out in silence. Ask yourself if you’re ready to eat variance for breakfast and still show up tomorrow. Most aren’t.
Tournaments sound glamorous with those massive prize pools, but the truth is, most players are bleeding money. The rake eats you alive—every buy-in chips away at your bankroll before you even see a flop. And the time commitment? Forget it. A decent MTT can lock you in for 6-8 hours, sometimes more, just to bubble or min-cash for pennies. You’re glued to your screen, ignoring life, chasing a final table that might not even cover your coffee addiction.
Then there’s the mental toll. The swings mess with your head—win a tourney, and you’re invincible; lose ten in a row, and you’re questioning every decision you’ve ever made. Tilt creeps in, and suddenly you’re shoving all-in with Q-10 like it’s the nuts. Even when you’re disciplined, the grind feels like running on a treadmill—exhausting effort, same scenery. Cash games at least let you walk away when you’re up. Tournaments? You’re committed until you’re broke or a miracle happens.
I’m not saying don’t play. If you love poker, fine, grind away. But don’t kid yourself about the glory. For every pro streaming their big score, there’s a thousand others burning out in silence. Ask yourself if you’re ready to eat variance for breakfast and still show up tomorrow. Most aren’t.