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Nostalgic Musings of a Poker Beginning

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  1. #1

    Default Nostalgic Musings of a Poker Beginning

    I figured I'd give you a taste of my "poker career". The early years and beginning of my love with poker and its social aspects.

    Early poker: Poker was instilled in me from an early age. Some of my fondest childhood memories were of my mother or aunts and uncles allowing me to push their dime or quarter into the pot for them, between my beer runs to the fridge for the whole table. It was kind of like my tip in all respects I now correlate the beloved gesture. I remember my mom telling me to answer the door constantly, as my aunts and uncles filtered in toting six-packs. They would all tussle my curly hair as if I enjoyed it, and which is currently all but gone; maybe all the unheeded messing caused the roots to die. Most of my beloved, always happy, although oft rowdy, carried jingling mason jars full of small change, while others emptied their jean pockets of quarters onto the table, to be cashed into small denominations. I recall happily, the constant, good-natured trash-talk at the highly-anticipated, dealer's choice, penny-ante get togethers. My love of poker came from the powerful emotional rollercoaster that I witnessed seemingly hand after hand, in the highly contested micro-stakes cash games of my family, where $20 was likely the overall, envied winner that night. The wins and losses often skyrocketed when inevitably a round of double-burn in-between got out of hand, although we called it acey-deucey at our home games. The love of good-natured, yet deeply competitive competition, fueled and honed my love of poker above merely winning. I didn't learn a ton of theory those early years, yet I learned hand strength, and the mechanics of many well-known and obscure games. Don't get me wrong, I did gather a lot of sound and still-used tactics, wide-eyed watching those often heated back-and-forths. But I also was imparted with a fair share of sometimes inebriated tips on gameplay and card combination thoughts, that were passed down from my elders, as I pushed their bets into the center of the table for them giddy to be a part of the action, with a true smile cracking my face. Most tips were deeply superstitious, with luck-based theories, yet I didn't know that back then. All I knew was I respected and admired my family members, and absorbed the pointers by rote like a sponge, empirically right or wrong, to be sorted with a grain of salt as I grew older. I still remember feeling a little dejected when the long night was over, yet elated that I got to stay up late, because it was the weekend and we had company (and perpetual begging early in the day). Not like anyone could sleep in the constant, crashing din, with crescendos of elated howls and exasperated groans every time a longshot hit. At least that factor was what I stressed to my mom when I begged to be allowed to stay up on game nights and it wasn't a total fib per se. I had no greater wish those early years than to grow big enough to bring my piggybank to the table.
  2. #2
    if there were paragraphs it would be easier to read.
  3. #3
    Ouch. Thanks buddy.
  4. #4
    It's true, tho
    your banner burned here

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