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Old 04-19-2018, 08:42 PM   #1126
AllJackedUp
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

can we get pics of this palm species? As a socal native, I'm having a hard time imagining a palm that is worth a ton of money.
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Old 04-20-2018, 10:08 AM   #1127
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

I realized that a picture of the elusive palm species really would help tell this story. I never took any pictures in Cuba because I was concerned about big brother finding out when and where they were taken and I only had my phone, they love to track that stuff. The other reason is that it is a very rare palm, talking about it, showing pictures can easily reveal the identity of the poster. I personally don't care about being found on here, but many of my plant clients, including the current one, may not find my actions in this story 100% "becoming of an upstanding citizen" if they knew about my poker life.

With that said, the palm we went looking for and found was Copernicia fallaensis. Most mature specimens have copyright watermarks on them, and the pictures I have are not of the biggest plants. The genus Copernicia is 80% endemic to Cuba, with a few species native to Haiti, DR, and a couple into South America. The most prized of the palms are only found in Cuba in open plains suddenly growing out of nowhere. They take about 30-40 years to mature, and there are only a dozen or so in Florida this size.

The first picture is of a C. fallaensis one month after Hurricane Irma that had been recently transplanted - it is the best picture of the biggest plant I have access to, though I could take a new picture to update it. The second is a picture of a plant in Key West from a local garden, and the third is of C. baileyana, one of the other giants of Cuba. These are from Coral Gables and were planted in 1937. There are books that have photos of these plants in black and white from the 1950's, and my friend is publishing a new book soon, but no high resolution images on the internet that are for open distribution.

To give you an idea of the value of those old palms, a wealthy individual once offered the same garden a million dollar donation about 20 years ago for 6 specimens this size, and they took him up on his offer. This is for the cheaper plant, C. baileyana. The one we went for, C. fallaensis, when I can find it in a smaller size, it goes for $1000/ft of overall height, and when they form trunk that price triples.





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Old 04-20-2018, 10:37 AM   #1128
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

OK, I kind of get it now. (the first does look a little beat up from Irma, but the fronds in the second two are really pretty and interesting).

Do we know why they are rare? Are they not able to compete with other plants? or, was there over-harvesting at some point in the past? or something else?
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Old 04-20-2018, 11:19 AM   #1129
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

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Originally Posted by AllJackedUp View Post
OK, I kind of get it now. (the first does look a little beat up from Irma, but the fronds in the second two are really pretty and interesting).

Do we know why they are rare? Are they not able to compete with other plants? or, was there over-harvesting at some point in the past? or something else?
Pretty much everything that causes this plant to be rare can be stemmed from Castro's takeover of Cuba and the subsequent relations with the US. Plant collecting was a very uncommon practice in the early 20th century, and it wasn't like today where you can buy seeds or plants online, or connect with people in native countries. A few of the OG Palm Society members went to Cuba in the 50s and collected just what they needed, and then nothing. The US was really the only Western country that had the climate to grow these plants (mostly just South Florida) and they were blocked off. All of these species were often grown together and when they produced seed eventually, they were mostly hybrids. Eventually Cuba did open up for research purposes, but for collectors, it was much harder - Germans and Dominican collectors went there and eventually were able to get the seed out.

The other problem is that the environment was not a priority in Castro's revolution. Although Cuba's industrial projects weren't as bad as China, they still would clear hundreds of square miles for farms without regard to native plant life. The palms were not protected and were bulldozed, reducing their populations. These are slow growing and hate being disturbed so relocating them can take 18 months of delicate digging. It is believed there were other species of palms that are now extinct, as they were in photos but cannot be found anywhere on the island today.
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Old 04-20-2018, 10:53 PM   #1130
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Great story man! Best thread I've read in years
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Old 04-22-2018, 03:12 AM   #1131
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

I just finished page 1/12 (100 posts per), very captivating story and nice writing
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Old 04-22-2018, 01:07 PM   #1132
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Just got caught up on this during a two week trip. Great read. Thank you for writing looking forward to more plant and poker stories.


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Old 04-28-2018, 05:21 PM   #1133
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

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Every episode is better. This reminded me of my home game scene in the southeast 10 years ago until you had recurring 10k buy-in games.
Thanks so a

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Old 04-29-2018, 09:10 PM   #1134
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Diabeetus

Let me see if I can get this story back on track. To be honest, the first few months of 2016 were a little hazy - I was a pill poppin' animal. Nicole and I would fight constantly over ridiculous things at the condo. I did let her back in, and I knew that deep inside was someone that loved me deeply. She would do anything for me and her unconditional loyalty was something extremely rare from my experiences in Florida. I knew in the end she was a keeper, consciously or not. She was a very caring person who because of her past had to deal with some insecurities in the present. It did eventually come out one day as I was going to the pool. It was a warm winter day, and I needed to get myself out of the condo, which was just video games, Netflix, and the hum of the AC. She was always laying out at the pool, but for me to go out there, or go in the pool period, but this day was going to be different.

As I lay out there, ready to get in, I see a bunch of the full time residents, women in their late 40s to early 60s all whispering to each other and looking at me. I give them a look as if to ask if they wanted to talk. I walked over and one rather rotund Italian woman approached me to talk.

"Liam, your name is Liam right?" I nodded and told her that yes, Nicole and I rented unit 58 from my friend.

"I hate to meet you like this, but my daughter's bike is missing, and Camille says she saw your girlfriend on it. Can you explain what happened to it?" I was a little bit shocked - I had seen this bike before, and it was a used Wal-Mart cruiser that was barely roadworthy. These people that lived here year round were usually single, a few of them single parents living with their teenage kids in a one room 240 square foot studio. They tended to have inherited these or lived in them when the real owner, a relative, wasn't around. They were quite the gossipers, and it felt sort of like one step up from a trailer park community at times.

"Maybe Nicole can explain this," I said, very angry but positive that she had not taken it. We had two bikes of our own - one was a custom built Litespeed racing bike my dad gave me from his bike shop up north, the other was her cruiser which was pretty nice, and we had access to three other bikes that my friend kept in the bike rack, all nicer than the rusty bike that she was accused of stealing. We walked over to her and I gently nudged her, waking her up and she was clearly startled by the group hovering over her.

"These people think you stole one of their daughter's bikes. Did you?"

"No". That was all I needed to hear.

"Come with me, maybe we can solve this." We walk through the gate to the pool back into the walkway and the parking lot. My bike is sitting on the rack on my car, and hers is laying up against the wall next to the entrance to the condo. "This is her bike, this is what she rides around. We also have access to the three bikes on the end of the rack, and I proceeded to point to them and show them the bike lock key. They appeared to be content. One of the ladies just blurted out "Well.....maybe you took it then since you seemed so urgent to clear this up." My blood started to boil.

"So you see this bike here, yes?"

"This is your bike?" They asked, as if a bike sitting on a rack on my car might note otherwise.

"This is my bike. The frame alone is 3700 dollars. Do you think I decided I wanted to take a risk and steal YOUR daughter's rusty bicycle instead of riding this? Do I look like a thrillseeking thief to you?"

"Well, you and your girlfriend are out and up at all hours of the night and are here all day. What do you even do?" This one lady just wouldn't stop going, she wasn't even good friends with the lady who had lost her bicycle.

"I'm a stripper, she's my bodyguard." Shocked faces were everywhere.

"Are you a GAY stripper?"

"I do both, but gay pays much better." They didn't know what to say anymore, but my point was made. I managed to shock them into stopping their interrogation. I would rather them not know my real job, because I didn't know what to call it either.

This became even more true when the dynamics of the game started to change over the next month. Fish's game was great at first, but it started to fizzle a bit - his players were a lot like the PLO players in Boca Grande, great action but not looking to be regulars. You need a couple dozen legit degenerates to run a successful underground game, as there has to be a bit of shadiness to the event that would attract such action. I remember the game was on its last legs when he ordered a UFC fight with MacGregor (I forget which, would have been late winter 2016) and it ended up not coming through in HD on Comcast, so in a frenzy he ordered it in standard definition. This did not come in either, and over a hundred dollars later, the game had stopped while he screamed at the Indian Comcast operator that stood by the notion that everything was okay. Fish being half Colombian and half Italian from Queens, you can imagine the Latino fire that was heard in the house that night, while the game fizzled out around the lack of entertainment. These weren't poker players, they were just guys that wanted to get together and have a game to play while the game was on. As a result, no UFC fight, no action. Just as angry as Fish was Rad - he was hellbent on burying Tim's game to no avail.

In the meantime, I had been getting word that Tim's game was once again on fire. Willy had somehow found a whole pool of younger action players he had met through his new girlfriend that he had recently knocked up. She was from the country, and I wasn't sure how she had met these businessmen types. Fish understood I was there to make some money. My neck was on fire, but just when I was accepting that I couldn't deal anymore, I was able to get through half a night if I was pretty well medicated on Lortab. Though Tim and Willy had been fighting, these new players managed to lube him back into the dealer's seat, and Tim was understanding that Willy's new kid was going to be quite the expense. I had to show up though, at the time it was my only option.

Though it had been months since I had set foot in the original house of the home game, it felt like yesterday. Tim's parents greeted me, I never found that odd that a 40 year old man was living with his parents and in turn had started to have his 15 year old daughter learning how to deal. No one else even mentioned anything about it either, and just writing this now made me think twice that it was a little bit odd. I sat down to play and as usual, I never had to throw any money on the table - my credit was good there, and Tim and I had the same deal. On the other side of the table were 4 or 5 new faces - they all knew each other and were neck deep in Miller Lite. Willy was dealing and his girlfriend was there interacting with them almost like an escort. A few hours into the game, one of them received a phone call and suddenly half the table was gone - Greek was there and was pissed because he was stuck and no one wanted to buy any weed from him. Willy walked out with the guys and it was just a bunch of chips and 3 players sitting at the table.

"Who are these guys?" I asked Tim, curious where one suddenly comes upon a whole table of action players who suddenly disappear after a phone call.

"They are relatives of Janie, you know, Willy's girlfriend? They have this business where they go and buy diabetic test strips in a big group then sell them and make like 5 grand a week. It's sick, I am going to get in on it when I have some money saved up. They use their credit cards and max them out every month then make the profit and pay it all back."

Apparently one of them had found a huge wholesaler in West Palm Beach who would buy every test strip he could get his hands on. He would buy at a fixed price and everyone would pool together their money to meet the wholesaler's needs. There was a 10% profit margin almost guaranteed every week, so 50K would net 5k in revenue. They would have to drive all this stuff to West Palm and meet the guy at a truck stop where they were paid cash. The whole thing sounded ridiculous to me but if it kept the game going with money then I was all for it. One look at these guys and they were not what you would consider entrepreneurs - something else had to be going on.

"You want to jump in the box? Willy hasn't been paying attention to the game and slowing it down with all this diabetes talk.

"You mean diabeetus?"

"What's that?

"Nevermind."

Tim probably had type 2 diabetes with his 6'3 380 pound frame, pounding XXL Monster energy drinks and sucking on Skittles (he was basically toothless), maybe this was his calling. I got in the box and I can see why Willy was not getting many hands in - these guys determined how fast the game was going to run, and to any casual poker player, it was like pulling teeth to get their attention, and definitely the slowest game I have ever dealt or been in to this day. I figured if these guys weren't going to let me do my job, maybe they could let me in on how these testing strips made them so much money. As the game winded down and people were cashing out, I approached them about their "business".

"Bro if you are interested, we can make you 10% on your money, guaranteed." I had heard this many times during the night, and it just made me more curious. I asked them how it worked, trying to see if I was dealing with multi-level marketing, or this was just code for something more sketchy.

"Why don't you come with us the next time we drop off the testers?" I told them sure, why not - I knew the way to West Palm as good as anyone did on the West Coast and even told them I would drive. Willy was going to come with us and it was going to be his first sale as well. My name had been dropped as a possible investor, and with this garnering their interest, I became more hesitant about this being anything but legitimate. Curiosity had the best of me though, and I was determined to see what these guys were up to.
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Old 04-30-2018, 09:46 AM   #1135
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Quote:
Originally Posted by Truestoryteller View Post
Diabeetus



Let me see if I can get this story back on track. To be honest, the first few months of 2016 were a little hazy - I was a pill poppin' animal. Nicole and I would fight constantly over ridiculous things at the condo. I did let her back in, and I knew that deep inside was someone that loved me deeply. She would do anything for me and her unconditional loyalty was something extremely rare from my experiences in Florida. I knew in the end she was a keeper, consciously or not. She was a very caring person who because of her past had to deal with some insecurities in the present. It did eventually come out one day as I was going to the pool. It was a warm winter day, and I needed to get myself out of the condo, which was just video games, Netflix, and the hum of the AC. She was always laying out at the pool, but for me to go out there, or go in the pool period, but this day was going to be different.



As I lay out there, ready to get in, I see a bunch of the full time residents, women in their late 40s to early 60s all whispering to each other and looking at me. I give them a look as if to ask if they wanted to talk. I walked over and one rather rotund Italian woman approached me to talk.



"Liam, your name is Liam right?" I nodded and told her that yes, Nicole and I rented unit 58 from my friend.



"I hate to meet you like this, but my daughter's bike is missing, and Camille says she saw your girlfriend on it. Can you explain what happened to it?" I was a little bit shocked - I had seen this bike before, and it was a used Wal-Mart cruiser that was barely roadworthy. These people that lived here year round were usually single, a few of them single parents living with their teenage kids in a one room 240 square foot studio. They tended to have inherited these or lived in them when the real owner, a relative, wasn't around. They were quite the gossipers, and it felt sort of like one step up from a trailer park community at times.



"Maybe Nicole can explain this," I said, very angry but positive that she had not taken it. We had two bikes of our own - one was a custom built Litespeed racing bike my dad gave me from his bike shop up north, the other was her cruiser which was pretty nice, and we had access to three other bikes that my friend kept in the bike rack, all nicer than the rusty bike that she was accused of stealing. We walked over to her and I gently nudged her, waking her up and she was clearly startled by the group hovering over her.



"These people think you stole one of their daughter's bikes. Did you?"



"No". That was all I needed to hear.



"Come with me, maybe we can solve this." We walk through the gate to the pool back into the walkway and the parking lot. My bike is sitting on the rack on my car, and hers is laying up against the wall next to the entrance to the condo. "This is her bike, this is what she rides around. We also have access to the three bikes on the end of the rack, and I proceeded to point to them and show them the bike lock key. They appeared to be content. One of the ladies just blurted out "Well.....maybe you took it then since you seemed so urgent to clear this up." My blood started to boil.



"So you see this bike here, yes?"



"This is your bike?" They asked, as if a bike sitting on a rack on my car might note otherwise.



"This is my bike. The frame alone is 3700 dollars. Do you think I decided I wanted to take a risk and steal YOUR daughter's rusty bicycle instead of riding this? Do I look like a thrillseeking thief to you?"



"Well, you and your girlfriend are out and up at all hours of the night and are here all day. What do you even do?" This one lady just wouldn't stop going, she wasn't even good friends with the lady who had lost her bicycle.



"I'm a stripper, she's my bodyguard." Shocked faces were everywhere.



"Are you a GAY stripper?"



"I do both, but gay pays much better." They didn't know what to say anymore, but my point was made. I managed to shock them into stopping their interrogation. I would rather them not know my real job, because I didn't know what to call it either.



This became even more true when the dynamics of the game started to change over the next month. Fish's game was great at first, but it started to fizzle a bit - his players were a lot like the PLO players in Boca Grande, great action but not looking to be regulars. You need a couple dozen legit degenerates to run a successful underground game, as there has to be a bit of shadiness to the event that would attract such action. I remember the game was on its last legs when he ordered a UFC fight with MacGregor (I forget which, would have been late winter 2016) and it ended up not coming through in HD on Comcast, so in a frenzy he ordered it in standard definition. This did not come in either, and over a hundred dollars later, the game had stopped while he screamed at the Indian Comcast operator that stood by the notion that everything was okay. Fish being half Colombian and half Italian from Queens, you can imagine the Latino fire that was heard in the house that night, while the game fizzled out around the lack of entertainment. These weren't poker players, they were just guys that wanted to get together and have a game to play while the game was on. As a result, no UFC fight, no action. Just as angry as Fish was Rad - he was hellbent on burying Tim's game to no avail.



In the meantime, I had been getting word that Tim's game was once again on fire. Willy had somehow found a whole pool of younger action players he had met through his new girlfriend that he had recently knocked up. She was from the country, and I wasn't sure how she had met these businessmen types. Fish understood I was there to make some money. My neck was on fire, but just when I was accepting that I couldn't deal anymore, I was able to get through half a night if I was pretty well medicated on Lortab. Though Tim and Willy had been fighting, these new players managed to lube him back into the dealer's seat, and Tim was understanding that Willy's new kid was going to be quite the expense. I had to show up though, at the time it was my only option.



Though it had been months since I had set foot in the original house of the home game, it felt like yesterday. Tim's parents greeted me, I never found that odd that a 40 year old man was living with his parents and in turn had started to have his 15 year old daughter learning how to deal. No one else even mentioned anything about it either, and just writing this now made me think twice that it was a little bit odd. I sat down to play and as usual, I never had to throw any money on the table - my credit was good there, and Tim and I had the same deal. On the other side of the table were 4 or 5 new faces - they all knew each other and were neck deep in Miller Lite. Willy was dealing and his girlfriend was there interacting with them almost like an escort. A few hours into the game, one of them received a phone call and suddenly half the table was gone - Greek was there and was pissed because he was stuck and no one wanted to buy any weed from him. Willy walked out with the guys and it was just a bunch of chips and 3 players sitting at the table.



"Who are these guys?" I asked Tim, curious where one suddenly comes upon a whole table of action players who suddenly disappear after a phone call.



"They are relatives of Janie, you know, Willy's girlfriend? They have this business where they go and buy diabetic test strips in a big group then sell them and make like 5 grand a week. It's sick, I am going to get in on it when I have some money saved up. They use their credit cards and max them out every month then make the profit and pay it all back."



Apparently one of them had found a huge wholesaler in West Palm Beach who would buy every test strip he could get his hands on. He would buy at a fixed price and everyone would pool together their money to meet the wholesaler's needs. There was a 10% profit margin almost guaranteed every week, so 50K would net 5k in revenue. They would have to drive all this stuff to West Palm and meet the guy at a truck stop where they were paid cash. The whole thing sounded ridiculous to me but if it kept the game going with money then I was all for it. One look at these guys and they were not what you would consider entrepreneurs - something else had to be going on.



"You want to jump in the box? Willy hasn't been paying attention to the game and slowing it down with all this diabetes talk.



"You mean diabeetus?"



"What's that?



"Nevermind."



Tim probably had type 2 diabetes with his 6'3 380 pound frame, pounding XXL Monster energy drinks and sucking on Skittles (he was basically toothless), maybe this was his calling. I got in the box and I can see why Willy was not getting many hands in - these guys determined how fast the game was going to run, and to any casual poker player, it was like pulling teeth to get their attention, and definitely the slowest game I have ever dealt or been in to this day. I figured if these guys weren't going to let me do my job, maybe they could let me in on how these testing strips made them so much money. As the game winded down and people were cashing out, I approached them about their "business".



"Bro if you are interested, we can make you 10% on your money, guaranteed." I had heard this many times during the night, and it just made me more curious. I asked them how it worked, trying to see if I was dealing with multi-level marketing, or this was just code for something more sketchy.



"Why don't you come with us the next time we drop off the testers?" I told them sure, why not - I knew the way to West Palm as good as anyone did on the West Coast and even told them I would drive. Willy was going to come with us and it was going to be his first sale as well. My name had been dropped as a possible investor, and with this garnering their interest, I became more hesitant about this being anything but legitimate. Curiosity had the best of me though, and I was determined to see what these guys were up to.


Nice chapter and great cliffhanger
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Old 04-30-2018, 07:01 PM   #1136
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Great stuff. MOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR.
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Old 04-30-2018, 07:04 PM   #1137
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Jesus Christ 5 minutes with those women would probably feel like hell on earth.
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Old 05-11-2018, 12:24 AM   #1138
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

@TrueStoryTeller we are ready for the next chapter, sir. Please and thank you.
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Old 05-15-2018, 06:34 PM   #1139
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

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@TrueStoryTeller we are ready for the next chapter, sir. Please and thank you.
It's been a bit too long since I have been on here. I just had started the next chapter and keep on getting sidelined. My mom is in the ICU for some rare nerve condition and I have had some stomach bug since I got back from Miami last. Speaking of Miami, I met up with someone who reads the thread and is down here for the summer for some 1/2 action in Hialeah for the lols. In the future, if anyone is in South Florida and wants to meet up, I am probably going to play at least one session in Miami every time I am there. I would come up further but usually the days are long and Hialeah is 25 minutes north of me, I might be able to get to Hard Rock some days.

I have been playing at a couple home games here in town, pretty new to the game but mostly people that play at the local track. Met @crickcity, seemed like a pretty cool guy, but didn't stay long because I was waiting on word about my mom. PM me if you are in the area or going to be, I know it's WSOP time so it might be later in the summer.
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Old 05-16-2018, 10:20 AM   #1140
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

Can't wait for the newest chapter. Positive energy for you and your mom.
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Old 05-17-2018, 01:39 PM   #1141
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Re: The story of "The Home Game" - TL;DR

great least chapter; thanks for posting it. I look forward to the next one!
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