I recently busted out of a cash game when my opponent hit his inside straight draw on the river after we both got our chips all in. As soon as I saw the river card, my stomach turned. I could feel all the blood leave my heart and rush to my head. It was as if someone had suddenly turned the heat up well past the manufacturer's suggested settings. I felt a wave of rage crash over my body and I found myself yelling at both the other player and the dealer. How could they be so stupid? I walked away from the table and sulked for a few hours.

While I sat in my room and stared at the wall, contemplating reasons for why the Poker Gods could hate me so much, I asked myself a very important question. How on earth can poker players take crushing loses but still come back to the game over and over again?

Every poker player has to deal with losing. Even the most elite of the poker pros lose pots, have losing sessions, and have months where they flush away large portions of their bankrolls. How can they take these loses and continue to play? Are they immune to the effects of taking a loss or are they just gluttons for punishment? To help answer these questions I first thought about how losing affects me personally.

My pride is hit hard whenever I have a losing session. Doubt creeps into my mind and I question my self-worth. I wonder if I really know what I'm doing at the table. I wonder if I ever knew in the first place. Then I get mad. Really mad. I stew over particular hands. How could that idiot call so much with that hand? Why did that stupid dealer put that card on the board? I played well all night, why did I deserve to lose?

Of course, these questions get me even angrier. The more I think about them the less I want to play poker. Eventually I decide that I'm sick of the game and need to take a break. I take a month off. When I decide to make my triumphant return to poker I am surprised to find that the time off has really hurt my game. I'm now worse off than when I started. And the cycle continues.

Have you ever seen a really good player? I don't mean someone who knows what they are doing at the table. I mean, have you ever seen a player who was so good that you didn't even realize it for a long time? They kept taking your money over and over, but you could never figure out how. Then one day you get lucky against him. You got your money in bad, but you drew out on him for all his chips. Think about it. Did he tell you that you were an idiot? Did he glare at the dealer? Did he even say anything besides, "nice hand?"

The best poker players look at the game differently than we do. A loss hurts them just as much as it hurts us. Perhaps more. What makes them special is their attitude. They don't berate players or dealers. They don't fume about their "bad luck." The best don't even get mad at all. They know something that many of us don't. They know that every single loss is a chance to learn something. They don't storm out of the room in frustration. Instead, they analyze. They nit pick. They realize that they did something wrong that cost them the pot. They are accountable for their losses and they study each intricate detail to see where they went wrong; where they could have done something better.

Would he have folded had I bet $50 instead of $40? Was he acting strong because he knew that I know that it usually means weakness? Would a check-raise on the turn been a better choice than betting out?

These are the types of questions that top notch players ask themselves after a loss. Every bet, every check, every glance is scrutinized and analyzed. They study and they learn. They believe in themselves; they know how good they are and how much better they have become. They have to play again. They come back to the table because they know that every second not spent at the felt is costing them both money and happiness. They come back because they have properly prepared for battle and they know that the opposition doesn't stand a chance in hell. They don't worry about bad luck. They don't even believe in luck. Only the strong survive. The weak are sent to the rail. They know that when it's their time to visit the sidelines it will be a great chance to study and learn. And the great get better.