What the Hell Happened to Me?

From March 2004:

At the all-student game in the basement of Trumbull College, the action is no-limit hold 'em with blinds of fifty cents and a dollar. On the evening of November 12, the competition at the too-small hexagonal table was sufficiently talented to relieve me of $290 in less than three hours. Alex Jacob. Richard Berger. Ben Morris. Remember these names, pokeristas. Beware the Trumbull game, fishes. Mr. Berger, a skinny, bearded junior who as a freshman had won a one-table satellite against touring pros Daniel Negreanu and Allen Cunningham, raked three good-sized pots I was in; he also laid down pocket jacks when I flopped a straight against him, even though the board was 8-high. Berger and his pals may have had Swahili folklore or Kantian epistemology papers a week overdue, but these guys could play.