I still can’t think of one time during the last Grand Prix at the Golden Nugget in 1987 that felt good, upbeat, happy, warm, or comfortable in the three weeks I dealt through it.  I know a big part of the problem was me.  If I had been comfortable dealing those games it would have been much easier, as it was, I hacked myself to pieces in rewind every chance I got because I felt horribly inadequate for the job. Continue reading New day, same agony →