Humble Pie

It can be tough admitting you got something wrong. Even when the facts are plain as day and incontrovertible, it can still be tough to believe them, to swallow them (along with your pride) and to say, "I am wrong." Hans Christian Andersen wrote a cautionary tale about this.

It's even tougher when the whole world can see straightaway what you cannot, or choose not to, see. It's the opposite of the Emperor's New Clothes problem. The vast majority of advisors and on-lookers are shouting down the Emperor's nudity but the Emperor gets his back up and soldiers on. He's determined to makes the clothes appear because he knows that they're really there, if only everyone else will look a little harder.

One of the great things about having true friends is that they're willing to tell you when you're naked. They won't just sing "Kumbaya" and pretend that you're fully clothed and that everything is puppies and rainbows. But they can't pull your head out of the sand so you can see the nudity for yourself. You have to do that on your own.

There are too many poker media colleagues, poker media friends, blogger friends and other long-standing friends from NYC to LA who have been trying to tell me for a long time how naked I am. When a whole universe of very intelligent people who care about you and have your best interests at heart feels the same way about something, it's foolish not to take notice. At that point the externalities that you think they haven't considered don't matter.

Notice the chorus of voices and accept their merit. Two lessons learned. Next round of beer is on me.