This meant a lot of people were receiving wake-up calls that a drove of donkeys were shoving insane amounts of cash in an underground club poker game. I was nervous because, instead of leaving, rounders started showing up.
The decent people of New York had long ago abandoned this lonely side street with its black puddles and cardboard sleeping bags. I held much of it, but I had no safe way home. I sat at a $5/$10 no-limit table that was groaning under $180,000 in chips and bricks of $100 bills. That night in New York, however, I knew my cowardice was on a collision course with greed. From an early age, I learned to avoid physical confrontation. The following story was written by 'Matthew21v13,' a lifetime money contributor to the underground poker scene. You have reached a degraded version of because you're using an unsupported version of Internet Explorer.įor a complete experience, please upgrade or use a supported browser
