‘The Stomach Punch’ is a term coined by Bill Simmons in his ‘13 Levels of Losing‘ column. As Simmons puts it, the ‘Stomach Punch’ is:

Any roller-coaster game that ends with A) an opponent making a pivotal (sometimes improbable) play, or B) one of your guys failing in the clutch … usually ends with fans filing out after the game in stunned disbelief, if they can even move at all … always haunting, sometimes scarring

I think every poker player I’ve ever met has had at least one such ’stomach punch’ moment in his/her time playing. It’s the sickening feeling that comes from being blindsided with a horrific loss, usually following an extended period of good fortune. The suddenness and degree of the stomach punch are its hallmarks. Maybe it’s a sick beat (”The guy had two outs with one to come… Two OUTS!”). Maybe it’s a cold deck. Maybe it’s getting outplayed/trapped. Whatever the case, there are two common ways to deal with it (in a cash game):

1. Feel your stomach knotting up while you slowly stand and stumble away, legs wobbly, head in a complete daze. You have a sudden urge to call loved ones just to hear the sound of humanity, or
2. In an opaque mental haze, reach into your wallet/clip and peel off a suddenly very uncomfortable stack of bills to put onto the table in a macho effort to win back your pride.

Neither feels good. One is, almost certainly, destined to feel worse in the morning.

The most real and human result of a ’stomach punch night’ is to wake up in the morning and question everything about your play. There is little that is more humbling than the continuous replaying of a hand gone wrong from the night before. It is a pure, introspective analysis, backed by the brutal honesty of big bills missing from your wallet. It is a sickening truth.

That’s how I feel about the market crash of the past week or two.

As a young man who only started making a salary four years ago, I’ve really never known negative results from investing in the market. Take a quick look at the Google Finance chart of the Dow from August 2004 through the beginning of this calendar year below:

In retrospect, it’s clear that a correction was probably in order – perhaps not to the upcoming degree, but it was inevitable. And sure, in hindsight it’s simple to label its timing as obvious. But when you’ve never personally seen a downturn like this, it’s no different than seeing your opponent spike a 2-outter on the River for a large sum of money. You get that knot in your stomach as you count the basis (or, actually, percentage) points leak out of your portfolio.

Sure, more seasoned/experienced investors may have warned you it would come, but the reality doesn’t humble you until it happens.

Like the ’stomach punch’ in poker, the perspective I’m taking to this crisis is humble and reasoned introspection. I’ve found myself being very honest about my own lack of knowledge and particular mistakes. I’m re-evaluating my appetite for risk-reward and questioning every assumption. It’s a healthy process, but it’s also brutal.

If anybody’s interested in betting on The Field in a “U.S. Men’s Basketball vs. The Field” for the Gold bet, let me know. There’s nothing like heavy wagering to spice up the Olympics.