Winter Classic 3: Last Ride of the Rodeo Clown

"Everything that has a beginning has an end."

And so we've come to the traditional "Vegas is approaching" series of posts from around the poker blogosphere, anticipated almost as much as the "Vegas was so great, words can't adequately capture it" posts that will follow. I say that with only a trace of sarcasm.

This upcoming trip and tournament will mark the third WPBT Winter Classic. The first Winter Classic, "Hammer Forged", took place way back in the dark ages of December 2004, before the poker world's collective soul had been soiled by the sight of David Williams rimming a trailer park whore, and when Jennifer Tilly was still just some washed up Hollywood has-been with huge hooters. I remember arriving in Vegas early that Saturday morning and taking a cab directly to Sam's Town for the breakfast meet and greet. The first blogger I met was Felicia Lee, and yet somehow I didn't slit my wrists open or try to get on the first flight back to JFK before the rest arrived. A boisterous entourage of 8 or 10 heavily intoxicated individuals rumbled in maybe 30 minutes later, led proudly by some fat hippy wearing a jester's hat. We didn't break any attendance records at that first meeting, but the fact that 30 complete strangers showed up for a random weekend of gambling and guzzling booze spoke volumes to the fact that maybe this poker blogging thing had legs, and maybe these people were pretty damn awesome.

"Too Drunk to Call: Winter Classic 2" followed in December 2005. Spurred by the success of the inaugural Winter Classic, and the Summer Classic that followed in July, not to mention the proliferation of poker blogs as the WPT and WSOP brought poker into American homes every. damn. night. of the week, over 100 degenerates descended on an unseasonably warm Las Vegas. Old friendships were re-inforced and solidified; new friendships were fired in the crucibles of cocaine in a can, baby, and cabs driven by guys with names like Ricky the Pussy Eater. Those events helped carry us to the present.

Any good story unfolds over three acts. All beginnings have an end. I am quite certain that many of the friendships forged at WC1 and WC2 will persist despite the slow downward spiral of the "poker blog" as a concept, and despite the asteroid-like impact of the UIGEA on the Golden Age of Poker. All the same, I can't help but feel that the Winter Classic 3 may be "The Last Ride of the Rodeo Clown", as the number of people interested in attending these events on an annual basis rapidly diminishes.

It's a strange happenstance that the inaugural Winter Classic, and every one since, has been scheduled for the same weekend as the National Finals of Rodeo. Thousands of rugged American cowboys, dressed in denim, boots and big belt buckles, descend on Sin City to see who can hogtie a steer the fastest at the rodeo. Well every rodeo needs its clowns. Dust off those jester's hats. If this *is* going to be our last ride, let's go out as the goofiest counterpoint to those cowboys that we can be.

Those who attended WC1 remember Whiplash, the dog-riding monkey, being projected on a giant screen in the Excalibur poker room as he held on to a rambunctious border collie for dear life. Those who attended WC2 remember a certain $200 roshambo prop bet between Phil Gordon and Human Head's wife. What will you remember from WC3?