Poker Articles

I was never so happy to hear about people playing poker at 8 o’clock in the morning as I was when I found out that Day 2 of the $50,000 H.O.R.S.E. event was going through the night, until only 9 players were left.  When the 9 PM start time on Friday, July 14, was announced, I started the drive to Las Vegas in plenty of time, and got to the Rio around 7:30.  I was waiting with the crowd for seating in the TV area, talking up a dealer who said he was in the rotation for the Phil Hellmuth/Josh Arieh Chinese poker game from the night before (they were playing for $1,000 a point). 

Our gathering mob was by a group of tables that were empty while its players were on dinner break from the $2,000 NL Hold’em event.  As the players straggled back and sat down, the guy behind me was complaining that he didn’t know who any of these people were, loud enough for everyone to hear for several tables around.  Nice.  When an empty seat was filled a minute into play two tables away by someone everyone knows, Johnny Chan, his voice got even louder “It’s Johnny Fucking Chan!”  You can tell that Chan deals with this every day, as he didn’t even flinch.

As seating began, I went over to introduce myself to Shawn “WestTexasMan” Rice, who had sat down a minute earlier after chatting up John Vorhaus at his Sirius radio booth.  Shawn was kind enough to invite me to sit down with him in his 2nd row location, the middle bench of the 3-tier bleachers.  The first row was reserved for family & friends of the players, and I ended up with quite a family in front of me: the Brunsons, along with Mr. and Mrs. Mike Caro.

I don’t know how the atmosphere has been for the rest of the TV tables at the other WSOP events, but this was like sticking your finger in an electrical socket.  It felt like the biggest of sporting events…I’ve been to big boxing and wrestling pay-per-views, MLB and NHL All-Star Games, and years of Bulls games with Michael Jordan.  But the intimacy and power of this setting was something unique, matched only by the scene around the Main Event…maybe.  There’s never been a final table like this one, and very possibly never will be again.

Here are some other anecdotes and observations from this historic night:

- Doyle’s daughter Pam said that he did not sleep at all after the final nine was set the previous morning.  Too much coffee and Red Bull, matched with the adrenaline, put him in a tough situation.  You could see that Doyle was dragging as the game started, but he refused the kids offer to get more to drink.

- The Brunson girls were wearing the Doyle’s Room straw hats, but Todd refused.  Shortly after, Minh Ly came by with a hat on, and asked Todd why he didn’t have one.  Brunson replied, “Because I wouldn’t look as good as you in it.”

- I thanked Todd for writing his excellent Stud 8/b chapter in Super/System 2.  He thanked me back and asked if it helped.  I said, “No, I still play it like shit, but it’s a very good section.”

- Walking around before introductions, TJ Cloutier was asked by a railbird for any craps tips.  Cloutier answered, “Yeah, don’t play it.  It’s a terrible game.  I’d be the richest man in poker if it wasn’t for those dice.”  Good speech, but after he got knocked out in 5th, I still turned down Shawn’s prop offer of 20-to-1 that TJ would be shooting craps within 30 minutes.

- Phil Ivey is taller than I thought he’d be.

- Chip Reese is shorter than I thought he’d be.

- Vanessa Ruosso is better-looking in person.

- Brad Berman is…well, Brad is Brad.  After he sat two seats down from me for a few minutes, I ended up surprised that his aroma didn’t come through the screen the couple of times I’ve seen him on television.  I am saying this without malice, as I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Lyle Berman, and obviously Brad is a good poker player.  And I’m sure that after 5 hours in a car across the desert, I had my own issues.  But to quote an old musician friend: “That guy is a churnin’ urn of burnin’ funk.”

- Marcel Luske was the best dressed man in the room for all of about 10 minutes…he left when Patrik Antonius was eliminated.  For the rest of the evening, that award goes to WSOP commissioner Jeffrey Pollack.

- In the first hour of play, five flops came down with three clubs on the board.  That didn’t happen with any other suit that I noticed, until play got to heads-up.  Live poker is so rigged.

- During the first break, I was talking with Louise Brunson, who said that Doyle’s beloved Bichon Frisse dog Casper ran off about 10 o’clock that morning, just as Doyle was trying to get to sleep.  Louise said that she didn’t tell Doyle until well after Casper came back, because he would have ended up looking for the dog even if it meant he missed the final table.  She radiates an aura of peace and kindness, and it was a joy to meet her.

- Doyle Brunson’s night was defined by two hands.   David Singer called Doyle’s re-raise pre-flop, then pushed over the top of Doyle’s continuation bet on the flop.  Doyle reluctantly folded after a couple of minutes of thought.  An hour later, Doyle’s continuation bet on the flop was raised by Chip Reese, and he was forced to fold again.  Brunson just couldn’t get anything going all night, and some of the excitement in the room left along with Doyle when he was eliminated in 8th place.

- Chip Reese played masterful big-stack poker, coming over the top of Doyle and Ivey to take down several big pots without showdowns.  Other than Reese, Andy Block played the most aggressive game at the table, and it showed, as his stack consistently grew throughout the game.

- Shawn Rice made a really sick read when David Singer went all-in under the gun, then sat back and waited for action.  After a few seconds, Shawn said, “David’s trying too hard to look relaxed…he’s weak, like a medium ace.”  When Chip Reese called with pocket jacks, Singer flipped over A-10.  Wow.  It was a pleasure to talk poker with him, and to meet such a gentleman, as well as enjoy the pleasure of the company of the West Texas Posse (for lack of a better term).

- When Phil Ivey contemplates a decision, nothing moves except for his eyes and his right hand, shuffling chips.  It’s creepy.  I’m pretty convinced that Ivey is an experimental poker robot developed by IBM’s Watson Research Labs.

- Norman Chad came to the set when play got to heads-up, waiting to do his interview with the winner behind a big stack of cash.  It’s kind of a shame that he had to sit around for over 7 hours…I’m sure that by this stage of the WSOP, everyone involved could use more sleep.

- Shawn and I were convinced that the money on the table wasn’t real, that there was one $100 bill on the ends of each brick and the rest was just paper.  One of the floormen said it was all cash, which seems completely insane, since there were just two security guards in the area.  Neither of them had guns on them, one was in worse physical shape than me (and that’s saying something), and the other one kept nodding off throughout the wee hours of the morning.  When Jack Binion put real money on the table, he had two guys carrying shotguns accompanying it.

- Watching live heads-up play, where each player has 100x the BB, and they just pass pre-flop raises back-and-forth for an hour, is devastatingly boring, even with so much at stake.

- The hand where Chip Reese pushed with a gutshot straight draw against Bloch’s top pair, then caught the 6 on the turn to stay alive, was one of the sickest beats I’ve ever seen, just because of the importance of the hand.  To Bloch’s credit, he barely reacted, and continued to play his strong game as they soldiered on.

So, what was it like to see the bracelet awarded to the most prestigious tournament in history?  I have no idea.  Around 6:25 AM, the players got it all-in again pre-flop, with Reese’s tournament on the line with A-10 against Bloch’s K-J.  The flop was K-J-9, all diamonds, and the ace of diamonds on the turn gave Chip his flush.   At that point, I just couldn’t stay awake any more, as there was no end in sight.  I was there for eight hours, and saw just about all I could see, literally.  It was that kind of night, a true privilege and honor to witness, but sadly incomplete.