Father's Day 2008 was jam packed from start to finish. As with most years, I spent it in Wausau playing, errrrr participating, in the annual Gus Macker 3 on 3 basketball tournament. For the past 15 or so years, my dad had been forced to spend most of his day out on the blacktop, watching his sons among others sweating it out against hoopsters from around the Midwest. The skill level on Will's court was significantly higher than it was on mine, but he seemed to enjoy the action equally as much. As someone who prefers anonymity over attention, having other things to do on Father's Day suited him just fine.
Typically, we'd gather late afternoon or early evening to have a meal before hitting the road back to the twin cities. This year was different though. At 5:00 I would be playing the big online qualifier for the World Series of Poker main event. $500 buy in. One $12k package for every 24 entrants. And it was going to be a big one. They were guaranteeing 100 seats, so anticipating at least 2400 players. I had played in two smaller ones over the previous few weeks without success. This would be my last chance to win a satellite seat to play. The basement at 610 Ross was the venue of choice.
Going deep in a poker tournament is about playing well, running good and receiving the occasional dose of good fortune. I received a major dose a few hours into the tournament. Someone raised and I elected to just call with two kings (oops) and somehow, four other people called behind me. It had become a huge pot even before the flop rolled out 9 4 2 with two spades. Before I could even process it, the small blind immediately went all-in. It folded to me and I didn't think too long before moving all-in as well. Then the button called off HIS entire stack and suddenly we had an enormous pot and I was fully expecting to be way behind. The small blind had the nut flush draw and the button had 44 for a set. I was crestfallen, dead to the last two kings (I had the K of spades) in the deck. The dream would officially be dead... BUT WAIT... KING ON THE TURN!! I actually yelled, "KING!!" when it popped off, I was in a state of shock. That's the thing about poker though. You can be on top of a cliff one moment and fall all the way to the bottom the very next. But sometimes the opposite is true as well. And so, I had back to back heart attacks for totally different reasons. The river was clean and suddenly I had a monster stack and was riding a huge wave of momentum.
Satellite tournaments are a much different dynamic than regular tournaments because there is no first place. All you need to do is finish in the top X% and you claim the prize. In this tourney, they ended up giving away 125 seats.. so everyone had their eye on that 125th place, that was all that mattered. It was with that in mind, as we neared 200 people left, that I made a pretty large mistake. I might have had enough chips to coast until 125 but I decided to put the big blind for a decision to all of his chips with K8 offsuit from the small blind. I had about 150k in chips and he had about 80k with the blinds at 2k/4k. He thought forever, used up his whole time bank and ultimately decided to call for his tournament life with AJ. His hand held up and just like that I was hovering around the danger zone with the blinds going up to 3k/6k. Winning a seat was no longer a sure thing, it was legitimately in doubt.
Around this time, my cousin Ben had stopped over at the and made his way down to the basement. A poker buff himself, he was all about hanging out for the duration and sweating out every hand. And I definitely needed his positive energy at that point. I had just taken a pretty big body blow.
I was closely monitoring the standings and with 160 or so people left, it was obvious I wouldn't be able to just fold my way to a seat. I'd need to win a few more chips. So when I had dwindled down to 45k or so, I raised all-in from the cutoff with A5 offsuit, not the strongest of hands but it seemed like my best spot. The blinds were 5k/10k and I still had a little bit of fold equity. I wanted everyone to fold but the small blind decided to call. I was terrified I'd be dominated but he just had K4 and was just looking for the knockout. Still, my tournament life was at stake and my heart was beating through my chest as the community cards came out... clean... clean.. CLEAN!! I continued clutching Benny for another few seconds as we yelled at each other in celebration. I was up over 100k again in chips and wasn't planning on putting another chip in the pot unless I was forced to.
And it turned out those chips were all I needed. About 45 agonizing minutes later, someone finished in 126th place. It was over.
"That's it!! That's IIIIIITTTTTTT!!!" as we danced around the room. It was 1 AM. 8 hours later and it was in the books. I was going to Vegas. To play in the World Series.
We went to Pro Players for a late night drink. It was one of my favorite ones ever. As far as celebrating goes, it tasted pretty damn good. I had dreamt about this for six years. And now, it was here. I was dizzy, on a high I could hardly believe or imagine.
Two weeks later, I'd board a plan and head west for the desert for an all-time experience. The poker itself didn't go great, I got knocked out of the tournament late on the first day.
Here is what I wrote back in 2008:
http://seriesme.blogspot.com/2008/07/just-average-dayexcept-completely-not.html
But being there was everything I'd ever imagined and more.
Now I just needed to figure out.. was this the end of the story, or only the beginning?
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Friday, May 20, 2016
Mano e mano
Poker is beautiful in its complexity but also in its simplicity. Cutting through all the complex factors that can affect the outcome of a hand, the finality is simple. If you make it to the end with the best hand, you win. How you get there can be perilous and daunting but if you arrive and come out on top, the chips are headed in your direction. Figuring out the best way to defeat others is paramount to poker success. What works against one person will have disastrous results against someone else. The key is figuring out who you are up against.
It's with that in mind that I was drawn to a different type of poker game online: Heads up. Just you against one other competitor. One winner, one loser. I prefer the Sit N Gos, which are structured events with you and your opponent starting with the same amount of chips, the blinds rising and play continuing until one of you has them all. Heads up is often called the purest form of poker because it forces you into marginal decisions with marginal hands and requires you to make these decisions often, as you are involved in every hand. There is no time to fold, fold, fold and wait for premium cards. You have to mix it up and get a little dirty. Once I discovered these, I fell deeply in love.
And I had good success as well. Bankroll management is a necessary (and difficult) skill to master for any poker player. I certainly have had a dizzying learning curve with this over the years. Knowing how much to risk on a certain game, relative to how much you have overall, and sticking to that amount is so crucial. The heads up games were good because I could play a certain limit game until I had X amount in my bankroll and then move up from there. It helped me start out at the $20 games and steadily increase until I was playing $220, $330 and even $550 games in late 2007 and 2008. I played 35 games at the $550 level and went 18-17. Looking back on where I began, with the $5 games at the 213, I was proud and humbled about the rise I had experienced. I had learned a ton, taken on several bumps and bruises and steadied myself every time I got knocked off balance. Becoming comfortable with losing a lot in order to eventually win even more. And having a deep understanding of the greater goal in mind through everything. This was a marathon, not a sprint. Once I fully appreciated that, I never looked back.
So it was the spring of 2008. My poker game was eons better that it had been during that first hand in 2003. I'd had some tourney success, both live and online, plenty of online sit n go success and my bankroll online was over $6k when I decided to tackle what I deemed then to be the final frontier. I wanted to take my shot against the best of the best. And fortunately they would all be gathering in Vegas soon. It was almost summer. Which meant the World Series of Poker was right around the corner...
It's with that in mind that I was drawn to a different type of poker game online: Heads up. Just you against one other competitor. One winner, one loser. I prefer the Sit N Gos, which are structured events with you and your opponent starting with the same amount of chips, the blinds rising and play continuing until one of you has them all. Heads up is often called the purest form of poker because it forces you into marginal decisions with marginal hands and requires you to make these decisions often, as you are involved in every hand. There is no time to fold, fold, fold and wait for premium cards. You have to mix it up and get a little dirty. Once I discovered these, I fell deeply in love.
And I had good success as well. Bankroll management is a necessary (and difficult) skill to master for any poker player. I certainly have had a dizzying learning curve with this over the years. Knowing how much to risk on a certain game, relative to how much you have overall, and sticking to that amount is so crucial. The heads up games were good because I could play a certain limit game until I had X amount in my bankroll and then move up from there. It helped me start out at the $20 games and steadily increase until I was playing $220, $330 and even $550 games in late 2007 and 2008. I played 35 games at the $550 level and went 18-17. Looking back on where I began, with the $5 games at the 213, I was proud and humbled about the rise I had experienced. I had learned a ton, taken on several bumps and bruises and steadied myself every time I got knocked off balance. Becoming comfortable with losing a lot in order to eventually win even more. And having a deep understanding of the greater goal in mind through everything. This was a marathon, not a sprint. Once I fully appreciated that, I never looked back.
So it was the spring of 2008. My poker game was eons better that it had been during that first hand in 2003. I'd had some tourney success, both live and online, plenty of online sit n go success and my bankroll online was over $6k when I decided to tackle what I deemed then to be the final frontier. I wanted to take my shot against the best of the best. And fortunately they would all be gathering in Vegas soon. It was almost summer. Which meant the World Series of Poker was right around the corner...
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Climbing, climbing, climbing
The call came about 11:00 from Will that night.
"Dude, I'm playing in this tournament on Poker Room. 30 people left and I have a lot of chips. Going after it."
I whooped and logged onto the site so I could watch. Sure enough, he was raking in pots and rising in the ranks. I went to bed about midnight with 15 people left and he promised to let me know how it finished up.
When I woke up there was a message from him on my phone. I only remember the first few lines:
"Yeahh boy!! Man... 7 hours later... 3500 dollars richer..."
He had taken second for by far our biggest score to date. I jumped so high I nearly hit my head on my bedroom ceiling as a surge of something fierce rocketed through me. Yes. YES! Atta kid!!! One of us had finally broken through and it felt like it was only the beginning.
And sure enough, Jesse final tabled a tourney at Full Tilt for over $1k shortly thereafter. I did for about the same. Things were starting to happen. The seeds we had sown were getting some water, a little sunlight and starting to break through the ground. These plants were nice. But I wanted a damn garden.
Before too long, I was ready to make my foray into live poker at a casino. It was a little daunting at first but I knew my understanding of the game had reached the point where it was time. My previous ignorance about what hands to fold and what amounts to bet were gone. Now it became merely about following the action and recognizing the right plays to make. I was fortunate enough to live less than 30 minutes from Canterbury Park, one of the most notable poker venues in the midwest. Living in central Wisconsin, Will and Jesse didn't have the same luxury.
My 3rd or 4th live tourney, I got 5th place in a $200 event for $1918. I distinctly remember how fast my heart was beating during big hands. I made a huge raise with a full house and my entire body was bouncing on the inside with boundless energy as I sat there stoically and silently. As I navigated my way through the field of 130 people, excitement started to grow as we neared the final table. With 12 people left, someone raised in late position and I looked down at two queens, the best starting hand I'd seen all day. I went all-in and the raiser decided to call with A7. I was a big favorite and if my hand held up, I'd be a cinch to make the final table. I was internally screaming at the top of my lungs for the queens to hold and through the flop, turn and river... they did.
The big time. We're here. Final. Fucking. Table. Without really knowing where I was climbing and when I'd reached the peak, that moment felt like an ascension of sorts. From slinging quarters around at the 213 to handing over our drivers licenses to the tourney director so proper tax reporting could be down on the thousands of dollars that were at stake. It wasn't necessarily the mountain we'd all dreamed about. But I had definitely scaled something. Going out in 5th...not winning...was irrelevant. This was a landmark moment. It felt big and satisfying and exciting.
I had no idea how much it would take to climb the other mountains. But for the first time I could actually see them with my eyes, far off in the distance.
"Dude, I'm playing in this tournament on Poker Room. 30 people left and I have a lot of chips. Going after it."
I whooped and logged onto the site so I could watch. Sure enough, he was raking in pots and rising in the ranks. I went to bed about midnight with 15 people left and he promised to let me know how it finished up.
When I woke up there was a message from him on my phone. I only remember the first few lines:
"Yeahh boy!! Man... 7 hours later... 3500 dollars richer..."
He had taken second for by far our biggest score to date. I jumped so high I nearly hit my head on my bedroom ceiling as a surge of something fierce rocketed through me. Yes. YES! Atta kid!!! One of us had finally broken through and it felt like it was only the beginning.
And sure enough, Jesse final tabled a tourney at Full Tilt for over $1k shortly thereafter. I did for about the same. Things were starting to happen. The seeds we had sown were getting some water, a little sunlight and starting to break through the ground. These plants were nice. But I wanted a damn garden.
Before too long, I was ready to make my foray into live poker at a casino. It was a little daunting at first but I knew my understanding of the game had reached the point where it was time. My previous ignorance about what hands to fold and what amounts to bet were gone. Now it became merely about following the action and recognizing the right plays to make. I was fortunate enough to live less than 30 minutes from Canterbury Park, one of the most notable poker venues in the midwest. Living in central Wisconsin, Will and Jesse didn't have the same luxury.
My 3rd or 4th live tourney, I got 5th place in a $200 event for $1918. I distinctly remember how fast my heart was beating during big hands. I made a huge raise with a full house and my entire body was bouncing on the inside with boundless energy as I sat there stoically and silently. As I navigated my way through the field of 130 people, excitement started to grow as we neared the final table. With 12 people left, someone raised in late position and I looked down at two queens, the best starting hand I'd seen all day. I went all-in and the raiser decided to call with A7. I was a big favorite and if my hand held up, I'd be a cinch to make the final table. I was internally screaming at the top of my lungs for the queens to hold and through the flop, turn and river... they did.
The big time. We're here. Final. Fucking. Table. Without really knowing where I was climbing and when I'd reached the peak, that moment felt like an ascension of sorts. From slinging quarters around at the 213 to handing over our drivers licenses to the tourney director so proper tax reporting could be down on the thousands of dollars that were at stake. It wasn't necessarily the mountain we'd all dreamed about. But I had definitely scaled something. Going out in 5th...not winning...was irrelevant. This was a landmark moment. It felt big and satisfying and exciting.
I had no idea how much it would take to climb the other mountains. But for the first time I could actually see them with my eyes, far off in the distance.
Monday, May 16, 2016
The Honeymoon
I still remember the screen names.
Myself: Jefferking25
Will: 213assassin
Jesse: macbond21
Brent: beastslayer
Shane: UWEC2020
Those were our identities when we logged onto the Poker Pages site at the 213 in Eau Claire and played free poker tournaments during 2003 and into 2004. We were smack dab into that stage of the poker relationship when everything was new, exciting and fun. You could never get enough and you only wanted more. We'd go to the bars and rush home to play in the 2 AM tourney. We'd yell out different hands from our respective rooms when were involved in a big pot. We cheered for and rooted against each other vehemently depending on the situation. We were ultra competitive and hungry for success.
And this was with no money involved.
The daily discussions were delusional and unrealistic, but we couldn't help but dream big. How many WSOP bracelets would our collective group win? 3? 5? 10? The predictions were not grounded in any kind of reality, but suspended one where the paths and outcomes could play out as we please. The sky was the limit. We would take the poker world by storm.
But like most relationships, the initial love and passion is unsustainable. The unbridled feelings you never want to end do just that. Hot and heavy quickly turns to cold and light. And you move in another direction.
It happened quickly for Shane, and soon after for Brent. Other things took precedence as they realized poker was not a long-term endeavor. Shane ended up quitting before investing any money online. Brent deposited a few times and played casually before bowing out shortly thereafter.
That left Jesse, Will and I. The games online were getting bigger with more and more people catching the poker bug. The three of us each deposited a few hundred bucks and immediately began racing against each other to find out who could make a big score first.. who could actually back up their talk with a little bit of walk? Who could sprinkle a little bit of substance on our absurd fantasies? And would that simply open the floodgates for us all to burst onto the scene?
It wouldn't take long to find out...
Myself: Jefferking25
Will: 213assassin
Jesse: macbond21
Brent: beastslayer
Shane: UWEC2020
Those were our identities when we logged onto the Poker Pages site at the 213 in Eau Claire and played free poker tournaments during 2003 and into 2004. We were smack dab into that stage of the poker relationship when everything was new, exciting and fun. You could never get enough and you only wanted more. We'd go to the bars and rush home to play in the 2 AM tourney. We'd yell out different hands from our respective rooms when were involved in a big pot. We cheered for and rooted against each other vehemently depending on the situation. We were ultra competitive and hungry for success.
And this was with no money involved.
The daily discussions were delusional and unrealistic, but we couldn't help but dream big. How many WSOP bracelets would our collective group win? 3? 5? 10? The predictions were not grounded in any kind of reality, but suspended one where the paths and outcomes could play out as we please. The sky was the limit. We would take the poker world by storm.
But like most relationships, the initial love and passion is unsustainable. The unbridled feelings you never want to end do just that. Hot and heavy quickly turns to cold and light. And you move in another direction.
It happened quickly for Shane, and soon after for Brent. Other things took precedence as they realized poker was not a long-term endeavor. Shane ended up quitting before investing any money online. Brent deposited a few times and played casually before bowing out shortly thereafter.
That left Jesse, Will and I. The games online were getting bigger with more and more people catching the poker bug. The three of us each deposited a few hundred bucks and immediately began racing against each other to find out who could make a big score first.. who could actually back up their talk with a little bit of walk? Who could sprinkle a little bit of substance on our absurd fantasies? And would that simply open the floodgates for us all to burst onto the scene?
It wouldn't take long to find out...
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
The Right Kind of Drug
In the beginning, there was video poker. North Star in Bowler, St. Croix in Turtle Lake, Ho Chunk in Nekoosa and Mystic Lake in Prior Lake. Those were the four venues. Johnson was with me a lot. We'd sit at side by side machines and press the buttons that would ultimately lead to our riches. We had little sayings too depending on what card we needed. My favorite was probably, "Where's Pete at?" whenever we kept 66 and needed a third 6. Our friend Pete, a beastly man, didn't help us out very often.
As you might imagine, there were more losses than wins on the video poker circuit but we collected some memories nonetheless. And I managed to hit royal flushes on back to back Friday nights for around $2200 total at North Star and Mystic Lake. That was pretty fun. The inevitable, "Maybe I'm GOOD at video poker" started to seep in, no matter how ridiculous I knew it was. We were playing against machines. This is not something that can be won. It's all set up for you to lose. And ultimately, that's what we did. Game over.
One of my favorite scenes in the movie Blow is when George Jung is lying in his prison cell and has his life altering conversation with Diego. Diego asks George about his dream after he got busted selling weed. George mentions that his dream failed because he got caught. Diego disagrees.
"No. You failed because you had the wrong dream."
George Jung's eye opening realization and his ultimate transition from selling marijuana to cocaine was similar to the one I experienced in moving from video poker to poker. This makes so much more sense. This is far more profitable and lucrative. This is way more fun and challenging. I should have been doing this all along.
I'll admit that initially the intimidation factor was real. My only real experience with watching poker was the grainy ESPN footage of old dudes who looked they'd smoked a million cigs and been in a thousand fist fights. Sometimes the cards were face down, sometimes the cards were face up, how much do you bet, how do you act, it all seemed so foreign. I think I like that but I have no idea what that is.
Video poker allowed me the thrill of making big hands without the tension of all the other decisions that seemed to be in play during an actual game. How do I act? How much do I bet? When should I fold? Does someone else have me beat? I didn't have to worry about any of that stuff. All I had to do was push the button and hope that my third 6 showed up when the next three cards were dealt. That other stuff seemed way too complex, far too complicated and appeared to required a whole new dimension of intelligence and understanding.
Fortunately, 2003 arrived just in time. An unknown accountant from Tennessee won the World Series of Poker in Vegas and $2.5 million. His name was Chris Moneymaker.
His legacy was the poker boom.
As you might imagine, there were more losses than wins on the video poker circuit but we collected some memories nonetheless. And I managed to hit royal flushes on back to back Friday nights for around $2200 total at North Star and Mystic Lake. That was pretty fun. The inevitable, "Maybe I'm GOOD at video poker" started to seep in, no matter how ridiculous I knew it was. We were playing against machines. This is not something that can be won. It's all set up for you to lose. And ultimately, that's what we did. Game over.
One of my favorite scenes in the movie Blow is when George Jung is lying in his prison cell and has his life altering conversation with Diego. Diego asks George about his dream after he got busted selling weed. George mentions that his dream failed because he got caught. Diego disagrees.
"No. You failed because you had the wrong dream."
George Jung's eye opening realization and his ultimate transition from selling marijuana to cocaine was similar to the one I experienced in moving from video poker to poker. This makes so much more sense. This is far more profitable and lucrative. This is way more fun and challenging. I should have been doing this all along.
I'll admit that initially the intimidation factor was real. My only real experience with watching poker was the grainy ESPN footage of old dudes who looked they'd smoked a million cigs and been in a thousand fist fights. Sometimes the cards were face down, sometimes the cards were face up, how much do you bet, how do you act, it all seemed so foreign. I think I like that but I have no idea what that is.
Video poker allowed me the thrill of making big hands without the tension of all the other decisions that seemed to be in play during an actual game. How do I act? How much do I bet? When should I fold? Does someone else have me beat? I didn't have to worry about any of that stuff. All I had to do was push the button and hope that my third 6 showed up when the next three cards were dealt. That other stuff seemed way too complex, far too complicated and appeared to required a whole new dimension of intelligence and understanding.
Fortunately, 2003 arrived just in time. An unknown accountant from Tennessee won the World Series of Poker in Vegas and $2.5 million. His name was Chris Moneymaker.
His legacy was the poker boom.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
The Missing Chapters
I was staring silently out of our kitchen window when it all officially formed in my head. I had just tossed my phone onto the couch in disgust after reading the grossly distasteful email from the company who had chosen not to hire me. Tossed the phone like it was on fire. Ahhh, get away from me! You're dirty! There were a few different ideas swirling around my head over the last several days and at that moment they finally merged. And it all made sense. My next path would be following the answer to the simple question: What was I good at?
When I was 21, I took a semester off from college to take on a writing project on my brother's high school basketball team. It was a half baked idea that I eventually got in the oven and turned the heat up pretty high. My brother Will was a great talent, set to play in college the following year, and the team itself was picked to win the conference for the first time in more than a decade. I knew I wanted to get back and watch as many games as I could, so I decided to be an author as well as a fan. I went to practices, talked to the guys and generally immersed myself in the season. They were a tight knit bunch, the starting five had been playing together since they were 12. It had all the makings of a memorable 2000-2001 campaign.
And it was. They shrugged off some early season struggles and dominated down the stretch on the way to winning the conference. They were saddled with all the expectations, and they had a blast proving everyone right. The stage was set for something magical in the playoffs. And then they were shocked on their home court in the playoff opener. It was brutal. It was painful. But it was life. You rarely get the ending you want. The journey is what matters, is what endures, is what makes for the most lasting impact.
But as someone who was writing about the team, I still felt robbed. Selfishly, I felt I didn't get the ending I deserved. This story wasn't supposed to play out this way. I wanted the feel good final version, not the "what lessons did we learn" one. For whatever reason, try as I might, I just couldn't write about that final game. Couldn't tie a ribbon on the season. Wasn't able to come up with the final two chapters. And never finished the story. I still kick myself about it today, 15 years later. There was some good stuff in there. I was proud of it. But very few people saw any of it. And now, two floppy discs and a couple of transferred CDs later, the words are just jagged messages from a different era.
I've done some sporadic writing since then but nothing rivaled that time regarding the focus and passion I had. I guess it's more or less coming to terms with my limitations. I can't just sit at a computer and churn out something entertaining off to top of my head. I have found that I require a specific, current subject matter in order to be driven to write consistently well. That's what I had with the basketball season. And now, finally, I have another chance to right that wrong from my past. To take on another challenge, write about something I love that involves another unknown road.
And this time, to write the end to the story, no matter what it might be. I believe I am a good writer, and can maybe even be great.
Now... about that poker thing...
When I was 21, I took a semester off from college to take on a writing project on my brother's high school basketball team. It was a half baked idea that I eventually got in the oven and turned the heat up pretty high. My brother Will was a great talent, set to play in college the following year, and the team itself was picked to win the conference for the first time in more than a decade. I knew I wanted to get back and watch as many games as I could, so I decided to be an author as well as a fan. I went to practices, talked to the guys and generally immersed myself in the season. They were a tight knit bunch, the starting five had been playing together since they were 12. It had all the makings of a memorable 2000-2001 campaign.
And it was. They shrugged off some early season struggles and dominated down the stretch on the way to winning the conference. They were saddled with all the expectations, and they had a blast proving everyone right. The stage was set for something magical in the playoffs. And then they were shocked on their home court in the playoff opener. It was brutal. It was painful. But it was life. You rarely get the ending you want. The journey is what matters, is what endures, is what makes for the most lasting impact.
But as someone who was writing about the team, I still felt robbed. Selfishly, I felt I didn't get the ending I deserved. This story wasn't supposed to play out this way. I wanted the feel good final version, not the "what lessons did we learn" one. For whatever reason, try as I might, I just couldn't write about that final game. Couldn't tie a ribbon on the season. Wasn't able to come up with the final two chapters. And never finished the story. I still kick myself about it today, 15 years later. There was some good stuff in there. I was proud of it. But very few people saw any of it. And now, two floppy discs and a couple of transferred CDs later, the words are just jagged messages from a different era.
I've done some sporadic writing since then but nothing rivaled that time regarding the focus and passion I had. I guess it's more or less coming to terms with my limitations. I can't just sit at a computer and churn out something entertaining off to top of my head. I have found that I require a specific, current subject matter in order to be driven to write consistently well. That's what I had with the basketball season. And now, finally, I have another chance to right that wrong from my past. To take on another challenge, write about something I love that involves another unknown road.
And this time, to write the end to the story, no matter what it might be. I believe I am a good writer, and can maybe even be great.
Now... about that poker thing...
Monday, May 2, 2016
When We Were Young
Drive east on 94 from Minneapolis through Wisconsin
Get off at exit 59, the first one for Eau Claire
Drive four miles and exit at Clairemont
Take Clairemont to the right and go another four miles and turn left on Menomonie
Take Menomonie until it turns into Water Street
Take Water until 7th avenue
Take a left and stop in front of the first house after the American Legion Parking lot.
You've arrived - 213 7th Avenue Eau Claire, Wisconsin
The blue minivan made this trip a great number of times between the fall of 2002 and the summer of 2005. I came as a visitor but it felt more like I was arriving home when I walked in that door. It was a place where an impossible amount of memories were formed and ridiculous statements were made. A place where one roommate wondered, "What the hell is in the water in Wausau?" and another came out his bedroom at 4 AM and said, "I made a boo boo." We drank Beast Lights, ate Rocky Rococo's, they attended an occasional class and I smoked an occasional cig. My brother lived there with three others, and they came to accept me, one of them begrudgingly, as an adopted roommate as well. And I proceeded to take couch sleeping to the next level.
I came for the camaraderie, I came for the laughs, and eventually, I came for the poker.
In the beginning, it was all about your bag of quarters. Everyone would bring theirs and plop it down in front of them at the table. Buy-in was $5, or 20 quarters. The prize for winning was typically $20, or 80 quarters to add to your collection. The heavier the bag, the greater your standing in the house. This was when we experienced our first successes and setbacks, determined how best to be coy and tricky, witty and difficult. The stakes weren't high, but the end game mattered. Losing sucked. And figuring out how not to lose became paramount.
For a few of us, the seeds were planted for the possibility of something bigger down the road. We didn't really know what that meant. Only that something was blooming. But did anyone want to water it?
Get off at exit 59, the first one for Eau Claire
Drive four miles and exit at Clairemont
Take Clairemont to the right and go another four miles and turn left on Menomonie
Take Menomonie until it turns into Water Street
Take Water until 7th avenue
Take a left and stop in front of the first house after the American Legion Parking lot.
You've arrived - 213 7th Avenue Eau Claire, Wisconsin
The blue minivan made this trip a great number of times between the fall of 2002 and the summer of 2005. I came as a visitor but it felt more like I was arriving home when I walked in that door. It was a place where an impossible amount of memories were formed and ridiculous statements were made. A place where one roommate wondered, "What the hell is in the water in Wausau?" and another came out his bedroom at 4 AM and said, "I made a boo boo." We drank Beast Lights, ate Rocky Rococo's, they attended an occasional class and I smoked an occasional cig. My brother lived there with three others, and they came to accept me, one of them begrudgingly, as an adopted roommate as well. And I proceeded to take couch sleeping to the next level.
I came for the camaraderie, I came for the laughs, and eventually, I came for the poker.
In the beginning, it was all about your bag of quarters. Everyone would bring theirs and plop it down in front of them at the table. Buy-in was $5, or 20 quarters. The prize for winning was typically $20, or 80 quarters to add to your collection. The heavier the bag, the greater your standing in the house. This was when we experienced our first successes and setbacks, determined how best to be coy and tricky, witty and difficult. The stakes weren't high, but the end game mattered. Losing sucked. And figuring out how not to lose became paramount.
For a few of us, the seeds were planted for the possibility of something bigger down the road. We didn't really know what that meant. Only that something was blooming. But did anyone want to water it?
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