Blessed Sleep
Got a solid eight hours of sleep last night after two grueling days covering Event #2 - $1,500 No-Limit Hold'em. I am a notoriously light sleeper, but I don't think an earthquake would have woken me up this morning after I crawled into bed and passed out.
On Day 2 of Event #2, we played from 2pm until 6am. The plan had been to play down to the final 9 and then play the final table starting at 2pm on Day 3, with the ESPN cameras rolling. Either the suits at Harrah's didn't anticipate 4,000 entrants, or they didn't realize that by tweaking the tournament structure to allow for more play, they were creating a longer tournament. Whatever the reason, we were nowhere near on schedule by the end of Day 2. At 6am, after 16 hours of play, there were still 18 players remaining and the tournament staff had a mutiny on their hands.
Because ESPN can't be knocked off its production schedule, we still had to play the final table on Day 3. That meant coming back to the Rio at 1:30pm on Day 3 and playing for four hours to reach the final 10, taking a two-hour dinner break, and *then* playing the final table starting at 7:30. It was a 160-hand final table that took over nine hours to play, not ending until almost 5am.
That has been a recurring theme from the early events of the WSOP - long days. I suppose that means that Harrah's succesfully tweaked the structures enough to allow a bit more skilled play and a bit less pushmonkey-jam-your-stack-in-on-a-60/40-and-see-how-the-cards-fall play. As a poker player I'm all in favor of more skilled play. As someone who likes to get some sleep, I wish things had been scheduled a bit better. Last night at the final table of Event #2, play went on so long that we were off the structure chart that Harrah's provided at the beginning of the tournament. That chart went through Level 28 (60,000 / 120,000 / 15,000); at 4am, we started Level 29 (80,000 / 160,000 / 20,000).
Despite the length, the days are busy enough that they fly by. I especially enjoyed covering the final table last night. I was pulling hard for Chris Ferguson, who made a miraculous comeback in Level 16 and ultimately busted 11 levels later -- in third place. Truly remarkable. And the final hand of the night (click through and scroll down a little) was, in poker parlance, "so sick". It just goes to show that live poker is rigged.
A little nugget that didn't make it into the live blog last night and something that makes what I'm doing lots of fun: after the final hand was completed, all focus was on the winner, Grant Hinkle. He was photograped with the money; Norman Chad interviewed him; Nolan Dalla presented the gold bracelet to him. Fifteen minutes after the final hand, Hinkle was still basking in the adulation reserved for a champion. Meanwhile, the runner up wandered past our media table and asked, "Do you know how I get paid?"
Poor kid. All he wanted to do was get out of there and collect his $520,000, but nobody was paying him the slightest bit of attention. We flagged down a floor person for him and got him on his way. After getting anally fist-fucked by ten-four of diamonds, it was the least we could do.