We’ve all been there.
You’re three hours into a cash game. You haven’t seen a decent starting hand in what feels like a lifetime. You’re folding 7-2 offsuit, 9-4, J-3… just trash, over and over. Then, you finally get pocket Jacks. You raise. Everyone folds.
The very next hand? Pocket Aces. You raise. A re-raise comes from the tightest guy at the table. You know, the one who’s only played three hands all night. You push, he calls, and flips over Kings. You’re feeling good. Then the board runs out K-8-2-4-7.
It’s just… deflating. You feel cursed. You start to think, “I can’t win a hand tonight.” You either tighten up so much you become a sitting duck, or—and this is way worse—you go on tilt and start playing garbage just to make something happen.
Now, flip it.
You’re in a tournament. You double up with a great call. Next hand, you hit a set. The hand after that, you bluff someone off a huge pot. You feel… unstoppable. You know you’re going to win. You feel like you’ve got some magical insight into the table; you can see their cards before they can. You are, as they say, “running hot.”
This feeling is one of the most powerful, and most dangerous, things in poker. And it’s based on a complete myth.
It’s called the Hot-Hand Fallacy. And understanding it is just as important as knowing your pot odds.
What is the Hot-Hand Fallacy?
It’s a cognitive bias where we believe that if something (or someone) has been successful in a series of random events, it has a greater chance of being successful in the next event.
It was first studied in basketball. Researchers, players, and fans all believed that a player who just made three shots in a row was “hot” and more likely to make their next shot. But when they crunched the numbers? It just wasn’t true. A player’s chance of making a shot was statistically independent of the shot they took before it.
But… that doesn’t feel right, does it? It feels real.
That’s the key. Our brains are pattern-recognition machines. We hate randomness. We want there to be a story. “He’s hot,” or “She’s on a cold streak.” It’s easier to process than the terrifying, chaotic truth: It’s just random.
In poker, this is amplified. Poker isn’t pure chance like roulette; it’s a game of skill. But it’s a game of skill with a massive, massive component of short-term luck. The Hot-Hand Fallacy is what convinces us our luck is skill.
When you’re “running hot,” you’re not a magician. You’re just on the winning side of variance. You’re getting good cards, and your opponents are getting second-best cards. When you’re “running cold,” you’re not cursed. You’re just on the other side of that same coin.
Why This Is So Dangerous at the Table
This bias absolutely murders your bankroll. How?
- When you think you’re “hot”: You get sloppy. You over-value your skill. You start playing hands you know you should fold. You call big bets with weak draws because you “just have a feeling.” You stop playing the math and start playing the magic.
- When you think you’re “cold”: You go on tilt. You get frustrated that the universe is against you. You make bad calls because you “deserve to win one.” This is called the Gambler’s Fallacy , the other side of the coin: believing you are “due” for a win just because you’ve been losing.
Both are a recipe for disaster. They pull you away from the only thing that actually matters: making the most profitable (or least-unprofitable) decision with the information you have right now.
So, How Do You Beat Your Own Brain?
You can’t just “turn off” a cognitive bias. I mean, even knowing what it is, I still feel it. When I win three flips in a row, I feel like a genius. It’s human.
But you can build habits to fight it.
- Trust the Math, Not the “Magic”: Every. Single. Hand. Is. A. New. Problem. Your pocket Aces have the same equity against pocket Kings whether you won the last ten hands or lost them. That’s it. That’s the job.
- Take a Walk: Feel that “hot” or “cold” streak taking over? Get up. Leave the table for five minutes. Go to the bathroom, get a glass of water. Just break the “streak.” This resets your brain and pulls you out of that magical thinking.
- Study Other Games: This one sounds weird, but it helps. Learn about the pure math of other games of chance. When you see how the house edge works in blackjack or the pure probability in roulette, it reinforces the reality of variance. You can learn a lot from a Casino guru or any platform that breaks down the math behind the games. This knowledge acts as an “anchor” for your logical brain when your emotional brain tries to take over at the Ante Up poker table.
- Focus on Decisions, Not Outcomes: This is the pro-level mindset. At the end of a session, don’t ask, “How much did I win/lose?” Ask, “How well did I play?” Did you play your ranges? Did you make good folds? Did you get your money in good? If you got all-in with Aces against Kings and a King hit the river, you didn’t “play bad.” You made a perfect decision and variance got you. That’s the job.
The hallmark of elite poker players is not a streak of luck, but an unwavering commitment to a consistent, mathematically-sound strategy. They possess the discipline to execute the exact same optimal play, regardless of whether they are riding a wave of wins or struggling through a downswing. This emotional neutrality is a deliberate, trained defense against common cognitive traps that plague casual players and, as the American Psychological Association (APA) officially recognizes, often fuel the progression of gambling addiction. The APA has extensively documented how cognitive biases—such as the illusion of control and the gambler’s fallacy—are deeply rooted issues that drive problematic gambling behavior.
These top-tier players have systematically trained their minds to entirely dismiss the powerful, yet erroneous, belief in the “hot hand”—the psychological myth that a person who has experienced success has a greater chance of further success. Instead, their focus is laser-sharp and confined solely to the tangible, quantifiable data in front of them: the cards on the table, the pot odds, and their opponents’ behavior. They understand that every single hand is an independent event with fixed probabilities.
Achieving this level of detachment and consistency, however, is arguably the single most challenging element of the game. It demands a mastery of self that transcends mere technical skill, transforming poker from a game of chance into a demanding psychological discipline.
