One night, around 3am, we got a phone call at the club. It was a friend of ours and he told us that another club, just around the corner, had been robbed at gunpoint. It was terrible news for two reasons. The moment players start hearing that kind of news, they become weary about spending time at underground poker clubs. Believe me, they get enough shit from their families, friends, and wives/gf's. Also, the cops get pressure to break up games and they usually snoop around and bust a handful of games for a few months until mainstream society forgets about it and goes back to their regular grind. This specific robbery proved to be more detrimental to underground poker clubs in this city than any other event, ever! The idiots who robbed it were confronted by police in the parking lot as the way making their get away. They were chased down the street and once they made it on to the freeway, they decided to start shooting at the cops out of the window. Needless to say, the story hit the local news pretty hard. People were outraged that this was happening on their streets. they naturally blamed "these illegal gambling houses" for enabling undesirable activity.

Goodfella and I decided to shut down for a couple of weeks. We figured that things would die down and we could get back to normal activities in no time. We were so wrong. Within the month, club after club was raided. The cops were smashing through doors in swat gear! They were handing out fines, hauling owners out, and seizing all property. A new club would go down once a week it seemed. We had a simple decision to make. Either continue to run and risk being busted or shut it down for good. You have to remember, this was our livelihood. Although we both played outside of our own club, this was our bread and better. It payed our bills and allowed us to live the lifestyle we had grown accustomed to. When you're livelihood is threatened, its one of the worst feelings in the world. We talked night and day. How could we just shut down? What the fukk our we gonna do?

After thinking about it for a long time, we finally decided that shutting down was the only option. With a bitter taste in our mouth, we put the shut down into motion. We called players and explained what was going on. We sold some of our equipment and gave some of it away to friends and family. We informed the warehouse owner that we were shutting down. The first few weeks were pretty weird. We didn't have to go to the club or make phone calls or make Costco runs to stock up on supplies. Our phones rang about 90% less. I watched a lot of TV and rented a shit load of movies. It was just fukking weird!

As time passed I started to do some serious thinking. I realized that I only had a few credits left in my undergrad degree. I decided that first, I would finish that up. So I enrolled for my final 2 courses. It was strange jumping on the subway with a backpack and headphones! I didn't feel like one of the regular students when I got to campus either. It made me upset that I had to give up a successful business that I was good at because of a couple pieces of shit who decided to go Bonny and Clyde on a poker club and get into shootouts with cops over a few thousand dollars. So, moaning and groaning the whole time, I went to class twice a week and finished up my degree. I had always wanted to become a high school teacher. A couple of teachers changed my life when I was younger and I promised them that I would become a teacher as a result. So I thought about applying for grad school at the same university and get my Masters degree in Education. I applied to several schools back home in the States as well. I had always dreamed of going to school in New York. I applied to Columbia and NYU. Also, I knew that because my biological father had been a professor at Mississippi State University (where I grew up until I was about 10 years old), I got some kind of substantial discount off tuition if I decided to enroll there. So I figured what the hell and applied their as well.

The weather was getting good and I was starting to golf a ton again. A friend and I golfed all weekend. I think we got in about 4.5 rounds on Friday and Saturday. Sunday football with the boys was a tradition at our condo. Goodfella's two brothers and some of our other friends would always show up around noon on Sundays. I would always be up re-checking the lines and getting in the final injury updates before I smashed some bets. That Sunday morning, I woke up to one of the guys knocking hard on my bedroom door. "What the fukk, why are you sleeping?!" I was kinda confused. I tried to open my eyes and it was just fukked. My vision was completely mangled. I could look straight ahead and then move my head 90 degrees to either side but the image wouldn't change! I tried to get out of bed and fell off! I felt sick to my stomach. I tired to get to the door and ran into my chair. And then, the image that wouldn't go away even if I turned my head slowly started to fade out and what was directly in front of me started to appear. I'm telling you...it was FUKKED! I slowly got to the bathroom. I puked twice I think. The whole time, the guys are in the living room getting ready for the 1pm games. I came out of the bathroom, still with the image of the mirror even after 3 or 4 turns. I explained that my eyes were messed up and that I was feeling sick. I remember Rob telling me not to be a bitch or something in that regard. lol. I said that I was going back to bed and stumbled back into my room and onto my bed. I slept for hours. When I woke up the next morning, nothing had changed. The same thing went on for days. I didn't know what to think. Finally, Goodfella took me to the ER.

At the hospital, they gave me a CAT scan. They looked at the results and said that I needed to see a neurologist. Fukk me! I remember thinking it was a brain tumor for sure. Everything that I had previously heard about brain tumors resulted in sudden death! Surprisingly, I got over the shock in about 24 hours. If a brain tumor was confirmed, I planned to clear account all my bank accounts and empty my shoe boxes (look, I'm from the hood.. that's what we do aight!) and make a bucket list of everything I've ever dreamed of doing before I die. Playing a session in the "Big Game" and "Banging 10 Hookers in Vegas" was at the top of that list. LOL. [Sorry Hunny.. I don't think like that anymore.. :/ ] I'm pretty sure I would have never left Vegas once I got there. I would have just made a whole new Vegas bucket list. Come to think of it, I wonder if "bitch slapping some TV pros that I can't stand (I can think of two but I better keep that to myself) " would have made the list. Anyway, bucket list in mind, I waited patiently to go see a neurologist.

I went to see the doctor. He did a series of field tests on me. He then sat down and said the following words. I remember them word for word. "Based on the CAT scan results the hospital sent me as well as our test today... as well as from my experiences, I think this is a case of Multiple Sclerosis". Multiple what, I said. Look Doc, don't bullshit me I said. How much time do I got. Bucket list was spinning in my head. Wonder how much 10 hookers cost I thought. The doctor was quick to point out that he couldn't confirm it was MS without further testing. Also,he quickly pointed out that Multiple Sclerosis was not a terminal disease. He said however, that there was no cure for it. He scheduled an MRI for the following week. He told me to go home, relax, don't drink too much, and wait for the confirmation call about the scheduled MRI. I had such a weird mix of emotions. On one hand, I was happy that it was most likely not a brain tumor. On the other hand, an incurable life long disease was horrific news. Also... no fukkin bucket list? WTF!

I went straight to a bar nearby! I called Goodfella and explained everything that I had just been told. He asked me where I was and I told him I was getting drunk at a bar. He said that I was and idiot and that I should come home right away. So..after smashing a couple quick ones..I went home. When I got to my condo, Mrs Goodfella was just arriving. She had been told the news and rushed over. She hugged me outside and that's when I broke! I'm not one to cry too often. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've cried in my life. Not that its a good thing. Its just how it is. Anyway, it all just hit me. Shutting down my poker club, brain tumors, bucket lists, Multiple fukking Sclerosis, the possibility of a wheelchair... it all just hit me hard. In a matter of months, my life had coming crashing down. Everything around me was ending. It was like... Death around the corner.

to be cont'.....