Back to School
This morning felt a little like freshman orientation.
“Back to school, back to school, to prove to dad that I’m not a fool.
I got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight,
I hope I don’t get in a fight.
Oh back to school, back to school, back to school.”
Adam Sandler is responsible for so many earworms – “The Hanukkah Song,” “My Red Hooded Sweatshirt,” and “At a Medium Pace” took over my subconscious at one time or another. Today, I can’t help but think of myself as a real-life Billy Madison kicking the dirt waiting for the bus.
While it feels like day 127 for most souls at the World Series of Poker, I walked in bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my first day. It’s also my first time physically in the building for the Horseshoe/Paris era of the WSOP; I’ve covered the event remotely since the move.
I spent nine summers straight at the Rio and knew every inch of that convention center. Today I was one of the slow walkers in the middle of the hallway taking it all in for the first time.
After the first hour in the ballroom, clad in black, floor-to-ceiling drapes and the Main Event champion banners circling the room, I was back home. I hugged colleagues I hadn’t seen in years, some in a matter of hours and it just felt right.
Some of my best friends in life come from the poker industry. You won’t find better people. The hours are long, the pay sucks, and that forges lasting friendships. I leaned on a final table rail chatting with former roommates Kevin Mathers, Tim Fiorvanti and Drew Amato, and then dapping up my New School poker media fam with Jess Beck, Chris “Lefty” Land and Jo Kim.
The 2025 World Series of Poker already feels like a comfy, well-worn hoodie. The address is different, the scenery a bit fresher but the same electricity floods the room. You can smell the dreams, feel the intensity and taste the passion that drives the poker economy.
Photo credit to a polite random lady in the hallway.