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<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nFor the rest of the year, I got stoned and listened to Led Zep IV. Oh, and one more thing. 1972 was the year I first played poker for money. I was 14.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And stingy. And Catholic. Gambling was the devil\u2019s work. I\u2019d never given the wagering of money much thought, except that there was no way in God\u2019s green earth I\u2019d ever do it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Until that summer night at Barry Taylor\u2019s kitchen table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Barry and I were buddies. We liked to serve mass together. We helped each other with math. We listened to Steven\u2019s albums, when he\u2019d let us. Steven was Barry\u2019s older brother.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I biked over to Barry\u2019s to hang out as usual. There were a bunch of bikes by the side door. I skidded to a stop and it sounded like a party in there. I went in without knocking and wow, what a scene. I\u2019ll never forget it. Five drooling boys, huddled around Barry\u2019s huge kitchen table, a dark thick rectangular wooden slab, with benches along the sides, like the picnic table in the park where I played euchre, for funsies, with my civilized park mates. This was not civilized. This was not funsies. This was coins sliding around at high speed constantly. Their heads were nearly touching, with never a gap in the chatter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHey,\u201d I said, feeling intrusive. These guys were all Steven\u2019s buddies. Nobody looked up. \u201cBarry around?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then Barry walked in. He was carrying a six-pack of coke in bottles. I thought we were going to shoot hoops or throw darts or whatever and then Barry plopped down at the table and looked up at me, grinning. He was playing poker<\/a>!<\/p>\n\n\n\n “And bam, a strange new sensation came over me. Suddenly I wanted Hank\u2019s money to be in my pocket.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou ever try this crazy game?\u201d That grin. Barry knew it was blowing my mind to see him gambling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The answer to his question was yes. I had tried this crazy game\u2014quite a bit, in fact\u2014with my older brothers before they hit high school. We even had a wooden carousel of poker chips with two decks of solid-plastic cards.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ve played 7 card stud<\/a> and 5 card draw<\/a>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHeck, yes!\u201d Barry yelped, patting the end of his bench. \u201cThis is your big chance to join the degenerates, Angelo. We can always make room for one more sucker, right guys?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Barry was trying to be cool. They ignored hi,m too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo way,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m not risking my paper-route money on a dumb card game.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I stood, arms crossed, eyes wide, watching the game.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere\u2019s your mom and dad?\u201d I was asking both brothers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPerry Como concert,\u201d Steven said, without looking up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can\u2019t believe they\u2019re letting you two clowns run a\u2026 what is this? A gambling hall?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, they know about our little poker game,\u201d said Barry. \u201cThey like the idea of their boys being home while they\u2019re away instead of running wild with you mopes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Barry\u2019s buddy, Hank, popped off, \u201cEither sit down or scram, Angelo. You\u2019re disrupting the game.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n And bam, a strange new sensation came over me. Suddenly I wanted Hank\u2019s money to be in my pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Another heckler chimed in. \u201cWe promise we won\u2019t tell your mommy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n That did it. My competitive driver took the wheel. I took a step toward the table, trembling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Barry tried to put me at ease. \u201cJust pull out a quarter and sit your butt down.\u201d He patted the bench again, and this time, all three boys scooched down to make room for me without breaking stride.<\/p>\n\n\n\n What the heck, I thought. I was already the best euchre player at the park and the best chess player at school. Maybe I\u2019m the best poker player at Barry\u2019s house? Plus, I was starting to think that maybe hell doesn\u2019t actually exist, in which case the whole God thing was no longer a factor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I sat my butt down. I placed a cautious quarter on the table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSeven-card stud,\u201d said Robbie, another fallen altar boy. His shuffling technique was atrocious. I\u2019m way better than that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFor the new guy, we\u2019ll go nothing wild this time,\u201d Charlie said. A couple of guys groaned. \u201cAnte up, girls.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Someone swiped away my quarter at light speed and slid me two dimes and five pennies. Everyone slid a penny into the middle, so I did, too, right in step.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Life-bending moments. You never know when they might happen. And you don\u2019t always know that they happened. Like the day I got fired from my grocery store job on a super-fluke, even though I was a star employee, and it opened the door to a joy-filled 15-year career as a musician.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But sometimes you do know that there\u2019s been a movement, a permanent shift in perspective and purpose, a no-going-back. That moment, 50 years ago, at Barry Taylor\u2019s kitchen table, was one of those times. I had money, I had time, I had gaming genius, I lusted for competition, and I already knew the hand rankings. When Barry patted that bench, it was an offer from the universe that I could not possibly refuse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n
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