In one of many conversations slot gacor with my wife, I admitted something to her

When I was a kid, I wasn’t good at much of anything that required physical skill. I was an awful soccer player in kindergarten. I was a worse baseball player in first grade. From second to fifth grade, I was a tragically bad basketball player. From sixth through eleventh grade, I played football, but anybody who knows me knows that I wasn’t very good at that either. After that, I played softball (badly) and frisbee golf (pretty badly) to get off my competitive jones. And, yeah, that’s what it was all about anyway. It was that Otis family competitive drive that moved me to play games at which I had no talent.

And, in all honesty, when I started playing poker, I wasn’t very good at that either. Even after playing through most of my teens and early 20s, I was a losing player. The first time I played in a G-Vegas game, I lost $50 and I thought I’d found yet another game at which I could suck all varieties of eggs.

And then something clicked. I’m not sure exactly what it was or if I can even define the exact moment. It seemed like I slowly formed some sort of poker consciousness and one day realized, “I can be good at this game. I can compete. I can win.”

If we’re being honest, I know I’m not a great player, but I know that I play poker better than I do almost anything. As I’m nowhere as good as a lot of people I know, I don’t know if that realization makes me proud or sad.

What’s more, I’m beginning to realilze that I may be a little late in capitalizing on the skill. Had I ten years of my life to focus at my current level on slot gacor the game, I could be in a position to where I wasn’t learning at the expense of other things in my life.

Thus completes the circle of hobbyist to big player to hobbyist.

At least for now.

***

The Wolverine hasn’t graduated from high school yet, but he’s one of the best players on the G-Vegas circuit. His results may not be as good as others, but that is largely because he can’t round in this town without his dad.

Indeed, the Wolverine has instincts like few others and certainly 500% better than mine. What’s more, he’s young and his mind is still absorbing information like a sponge. He has a chance to be a top player when he comes of age, should his life take him in that direction.

Problem for me is, I don’t know whether to advocate for or fight against the kid’s interest–er, passion–for the game. First and foremost, I would kick anybody in the balls that suggested The Wolverine skip college. So, don’t think I’m going there. However, is simply saying, “Go to college,” enough to protect a young mind from the lure of such a great game? What’s more, I get the feeling that the Wolverine feels a lot like I did when I discovered I could actually be good at something. Frankly, I think, trying to discourage someone when it’s the one thing they can be good at is just asking to be ignored.

***

There are no answers here. Everyone has his or her own idea about what’s right, about whether poker is a sin, about whether it can be considered a legitimate pursuit. Me? I’m still working on me and trying to figure out how poker fits into my big picture–if at all.

What makes this all much easier is that the Wolverine has a dad, and a damned good one. It’s not up to me to make any decisions or actually be accountable.

What makes this all the more hard, though, is that I’ve got a son of my own and, if forced to right now, I would have to lie to tell him what I think he should do. Fortunately, the kid is more entranced with a sandbox now than a poker felt.

Maybe by the time he’s old enough to tell a gutshot draw from the nuts, I will have figured this all out.