I'm (finally) back

Thank you all for your patience!

Thank you so much for your patience, lovely Leap readers. I have finally emerged on the other side of the six-week marathon that is the World Series of Poker. I’d love to say it was not much worse for the wear, but as always after a sprint as immersive as this one, I feel like I need a vacation.

I feel like I need a vacation…but that doesn’t mean I get one. From intensive poker, we are now entering a period of intensive writing. I hope to finish my book in the coming months. There are some other projects I can’t discuss quite yet—both on and off the page—but hope to very soon. There is, of course, the ongoing Netflix project in which I’m quite lucky to be involved. (Seriously, how amazing is this cast? Brian Koppelman and David Levien are knocking this thing out of the park.)

And there’s this Substack, which will now be back to its regular schedule—or as regular a schedule as it has ever managed to hold.

A brief recap of my Vegas summer, for those who care about such things. I played in 29 bracelet events and cashed in 10 of them—a much better batting average than last summer, when I handily won my bet with my Risky Business co-host Nate Silver on who would run worse during the summer poker goings on. (To be clear, this is not a bet you want to win.) My best result live was a 35th place finish in the six-handed $3,000 buy-in bracelet event. My best result online was an eight place in a $1,000 buy-in, a final table that put me just a few players away from a second bracelet. Alas, it was not to be.

A photo from the Ladies Event, courtesy of Poker.org.

I had some close calls, some deep runs, some nice spots from which to make the series a truly memorable one, but in the end, I couldn’t quite close the deal. Still, I had a blast, making some lovely memories on and off the felt. I met some incredible people, some of whom I hope to write about here; spent time with friends; listened to music in the crazy setting that is the Sphere; and enjoyed the food and hiking of off-Strip Vegas.

I even made time to tape a podcast with the wonderful Michael Easter, who hosts his very own Substack, Two Percent, here. It was a wide-ranging conversation about the nuances of decision making, and I felt like we could go on talking for hours. Here’s a link to the episode page. Or you can listen here:

Michael writes a bit about our conversation in his latest Substack, but really, you should listen to the whole podcast (and to his other guests, including David Epstein, whose latest book excerpt I featured here in May, and Brian Koppelman, the co-creative force behind “The Roman”).

Life is funny sometimes. As the WSOP wrapped up, I found myself in a window seat on a plane flying out of Vegas. For the first hour, I looked out the window—yes, I am one of those people who enjoys the views and, no, I will not put the shade down, and, honestly, what is this trend of having window shades down during broad daylight on basically every flight? do you really want to blot out every last trace of the natural world, even when it’s trying to literally shine in your face?—and was more or less oblivious to everything else. Then, my middle-seat neighbor got up to use the bathroom. And I did a double-take.

Michael Easter was my other seat-mate. We’d been flying (almost) next to each other this entire time without ever noticing. How’s that for a lesson in inattentional blindness. Take something you don’t expect to see (or someone, as the case may be), place it in an incongruent environment, and voilà: over an hour sitting with someone you’ve just spent several hours with, and neither one of you clocks the connection. We proceeded to have a delightful rest of the flight—our third seat-mate turned out to be Drew Carter, the play-by-play voice for the Boston Celtics, ESPN commentator extraordinaire, and an absolute blast—talking writing, podcasting, sports, and, naturally, the future of humanity before finally touching down and going our separate ways. It was the most serendipitously enjoyable flight I can remember having.

A Vegas moment away from the tables.

I write this from an outdoor patio, enjoying the fresh air after too much time spent inside a casino. And I urge you all to step—or at the very least, look—outside, be curious, ask questions, and meet delightful acquaintances, new and old. Don’t pull down the proverbial, or actual, shades of the plane. Don’t look past the world. You may find that, even if you’re an introvert as I am, you’re quite pleasantly surprised.