shipitfish | The End of an Era

I just got first-hand confirmation today that Greg's game, once a Tuesday and Thursday night staple in Boston and/or Cambridge, will run sporadically from now on, if it runs at all. Tonight's game, for example, was canceled due to lack of interest and Greg's lackluster interest in the running the game anymore.

Carlos' game, which I only attended once but was a staple for those in the Boston area who had cars, has closed as well. Some of the more serious clubs, none of which were ever MBTA-accessible, remain open, but they didn't have that "home-game-turned-club" feel that defined Boston poker for me in my year and half on that scene.

I feel the sadness that one feels when a pet dies. It's not the deep morning of losing a fellow human being, but it's that feeling that a living, breathing thing ("She's a living thing!") has ceased to be. I have a sense of loneliness and a feeling that the "era" in my poker career from now on will be thought of as "after Greg's game".

It's particularly strange for me, since I effectively said goodbye to Greg's game back in April when I moved to New York. Yet, I always thought about it being there -- that I'd find many of the same faces in the same place on the same night if ever I was in town on a Tuesday or Thursday. That sense that it "will still be there to go find" is unrealistic optimism now.

There is no lack of poker games in NYC. Within weeks of the busts, three or four new clubs were heavily marketing and picking up players. I am sure I'll never want for a game. Yet, they won't feel the same. They will never be this game that I walked into on the first night and plunked down a mere $50 to play $1/$2 limit. I'll never feel that way about a poker game again. It was special. Thank you, Greg, for putting up with all of us stomping through your apartment, pissing off your neighbors, feeding your dog table scraps, and for making a community for us. I'll never forget it; I am sure the rest won't as well.

I have many unfinished journal entries -- a whole series, in fact -- that I've worked on occasionally since April. They are a tribute to Greg's game and the people that played in it. I kept procrastinating because it seemed somehow premature to begin eulogizing a living thing. But, Greg's game -- even if he continues to run one occasionally -- will never be the "River Street" (the illustrious name of Greg's club that I've always obscured in my journal until now) that I remember. I might as well finish my tributes to the times since passed.