We’ve all seen them at our tables, and the further along we get into WSOP season, the more of them we’ll see. The ‘misreg,’ shorthand for ‘miserable regular.’ That player you see playing poker day in and day out, all the while seeming to bathe in their own misery. On his bad days, Phil Hellmuth is a classic example. Complaining about bad beats, berating opponents, or worst of all blaming the dealer. Every hand they win is because they’re “due,” every hand they lose is proof they run worse than anybody else. Spend an unfortunate hour at their table and you’ll start to wonder why they’re even there. Why subject yourself to so much pain and suffering while playing a game?
The truth is, most of us, if not all, are just a persistent downswing away from being a misreg ourselves. I know it because, for a period of time, I was one too. When you’re in the eye of the storm, every session starts to feel the same. You hype yourself up that today will be different, that today will finally be your day. But then comes a bad beat, or you lose another big flip, and instantly your mind begins replaying your entire runbad history. Before you know it, the misery has fully set in and you quickly find yourself expecting to lose every pot you play.
What’s wild is how easy it is to slip into that space. To show up with entitlement instead of engagement. To show up trying to prove something, or chase something, or fix something that poker was never meant to fix. And when the game reminds you of just how “unfair” it can be, all those illusions are stripped away, leaving only misery in their place.
It wasn’t until I started reading the works of the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius that I was able to see these patterns for what they actually were: self-induced suffering.
“Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?” – Marcus Aurelius
A misreg isn’t just someone who loses. It’s someone who’s lost faith, and in the process, their ability to withstand pain. They don’t just suffer from bad beats, they suffer from a mind that resists the very nature of the game we play. And the more they fight it, the more miserable they become. The misreg used to love poker. But now it’s become an unpaid job devoid of joy.
So how do you avoid becoming one? You remember why you started playing. You stop measuring success only by the numbers and start reflecting on what you learned that day. You log experiences, instead of hours. You connect with people, especially when you’re not connecting with flops. You don’t just grind, you also grow.
Because poker is hard. But it doesn’t have to be miserable. And the second you start enjoying it again, you separate yourself from the sea of misregs. The goal isn’t to be the player who plays the most, or even the one who wins the most. It’s to be the one who still enjoys the game.
So the next time you feel the urge to groan, slam the table, or complain to your table-mate just how unlucky you’ve been, pause and recognize, that’s the edge of the misreg cliff, and nothing good is waiting for you down below.
Instead, remind yourself, as Marcus Aurelius did, over and over again:
Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking.
