What a Party!

What a party that was; the drinks were all loaded, and so were the dolls. I narrowed my eyes and poured a stiff Manhattan.



Well, with my pupils contracted from glaring at repeatedly unfavourable tournament flops and rivers, and with a glass of Harvey's Bristol Cream on the rocks in my right hand, I am focusing my attention on the events that have taken place at the World Series of Poker over recent days, and … nights.



Five weeks into this pokergasm and despite negligible competitive success, my pockets still jingle with a shilling or two. Maybe I should say nickels and dimes.



Fortunately, the pre-breakfast forays into cash games have proven more beneficial to the royal purse.



But I digress. Having been absent without leave for two years, I have at last emerged from my chrysalis to attend this year's WSOP, to discover that, in tandem with the Internet explosion, poker has evolved at megaspeed from the Middle Ages right smack-dab into the 21st century. This is no more obvious than in the exhibition hall at the Rio, through which all players and spectators are funnelled on their journey of hope and anticipation toward the cardroom.



One can now recline in a Hollywood-style comfy chair at a touch-screen connection, playing Internet poker whilst devouring FullTilt M&Ms and squeezing a Stan James stressball.



Perhaps next year will see Doyle promoting scooters, John Bonetti selling relaxation CDs, and O'Neal Longson signing tubes of Preparation H.



The place is teeming with pert young ladies dressed in flimsy garments. Like Eve in the Garden of Eden, tempting the male majority, consisting of unsuspecting, innocent, virginal "yoots," using gifts and offers to seduce them in an effort to try opponents' sites, of which there are now about 100 odd.



Despite my enforced absence over recent times, I still know many of the original nucleus of the poker community. These guys, being streetwise, sharp, and always on the lookout for anything profitable or entrepreneurial, have filtered into the many companies that service or run sites within the industry.



So, in my case, the lack of accreditation is never a barrier to the private suites or parties that have blossomed during the WSOP.


Many suites, though, are open to anyone – to meet or be greeted by one of the many poker luminaries, obtain autographs, swag, and books, or be photographed and immortalized with one's favourite living legend. Heroes and heroines of the New Age of Poker, who have won countless battles of the baize, are now worshipped by the masses of young, impressionable devotees of no-limit hold'em. They aspire to emulate the likes of Ivey, Singer, Hachem, and Cunningham over the following weeks.



With each day and night merging effortlessly into the next, there's the "Bellagio Roast" in honour of Doyle and a round of clubbing until dawn in the various private hotel lounges hosted by the big hitters of the industry.



In my case, being somewhat of an old codger who keeps sensible hours, it has been my habit to spend the early evening at the bar adjacent to Buzio's, prior to my final ascent to the 13th floor of the Rio. For most, that's an unlucky number, especially for gamblers who appear to be overly superstitious.



Mmm … correction, poker aficionados rather than gamblers; our great game being considered so vastly skillful and competitive that it cannot be so classed.



Thirteenth became an irrelevance after I hit a royal flush in diamonds whilst playing a video poker machine at said location, whilst consuming coffee and a brownie. It was a windfall of vast proportion, due to my carelessness in punting the full $5 at a time rather than my usual quarters. Having arrived in Vegas brimming with an immodest self over-confidence, I was already in receipt of an ITIN number, which magically released my prize – 40 worn and creased hundred-dollar bills. Who needs cash poker when there is such an easy source of funds? I am still waiting for the bracelet.



Prior to the main event, I was accosted in the corridor outside the Cryptologic welcoming party by Andrew (Vegas) Bryant. Upon enquiring as to whether I had been included on their list by any of the licencees, he laughingly informed me that I was indeed entered under the "W…r" section! Disregarding this abuse, I had a marvellous hour chatting to several guys I had not seen for quite some time, whilst making some new acquaintances.



Amongst the goodies provided was a really scrummy hot cream fountain under which one placed various highly calorific items prior to consumption. Vegas isn't the place to diet!



Of the various suites provided for the players, only one had a short, stocky guard, complete with badge and handcuffs. The rest had delectable young ladies perched upon high stools or standing erect whilst summoning the passing throng to enter. It was a little resonant with the brothels of Amsterdam – not that I am expert in such matters.



This was the Ladbrokes suite. Situated close to the cardroom, it was provided for those players who had qualified through its site, and others who represent the company through sponsorship. The mission was to offer rest facilities during breaks and to adequately feed everyone involved, from breakfast right through the day until the close of play.



Ladbrokes had added some inspired touches in an effort to alleviate tension for those involved in competition, or sympathise with those early fallers, me included.



They run the world-renown, "Win With Wilson," and ran an in-house tournament, both for the ladies and the gentlemen, during the week. The winners received rather splendid gold bracelets. The daily heats created a welcome diversion and were hotly contested.



As the days progressed, it became more of an extended family, with Beverly P. providing real tea in proper cups, and Steve D. donating his large jar of Marmite.



The highlight of the week was the showing or preview of the full series of The Poker Cruise. Wow. This could become cult viewing when shown on Challenge TV in the near future.



With players dropping like flies in the last few days, several suites ceased to operate, and in a remarkable show of goodwill, the Ladbrokes team welcomed many players sponsored by other competitors. Some were well-known names and many were friends of the Ladbrokes players. I suspect that this will have made them countless friends in the future.



So, now I reflect in the main event's room as the contestants, whittled down to the last 60, are enveloped by rows of spectators. Many of the surrounding tables are deserted. Bright lights are beaming down on the televised table, whilst those very players are hidden behind huge towering stacks of chips. Every so often there's the statutory applause as another one bites the dust. Those remaining, are still living the dream of being number one in 2006.



For me, just making it here this year and being part of the circus is adequate. Sometimes luck appears in other ways.



The prize brings huge rewards and a massive responsibility to carry the flag in the footsteps of some very worthy and humble champions: Joe, Greg, Chris, Robert, Scotty, Chris F., and their predecessors are all invaluable ambassadors of the game.



For now, we await the winner whilst already looking toward 2007, mulling over the events of these past few days and hoping that the issues arising during this current Series are taken on board by the WSOP and acted upon.



But that's another story for another day.