After looking forward to the
World Series of Poker for the past 10 months or so, I discovered several events occurring during my first week there that highlighted just how much it has changed from my first visit some 20 years ago. Back then, it took me three flights and 24 hours of traveling to get to Las Vegas. This year, I took advantage of Maxjet's business-class-only direct flight from Stansted Airport, a total traveling time from my home to hotel room of just 14 hours. The flight alone cost more than my total bankroll on that first trip. On the way over, I reminded myself of the discipline needed for a successful six-week stay in Vegas. I remembered something told to me on my very first flight there: at least make sure your bags are in your room before your first bet hits the table. To a compulsive gambler, just making it past the roulette and blackjack tables after checking in is worth a pat on the back.
I believed I had hit a bit of form before going, and entered the $2,500 no-limit hold'em event. From a field of more than 1,000 entrants, I cashed 37th, but still walked away a little disappointed, hoping that wouldn't be the only chance I would get this year. Then, the wheels that I had considered to be secure started to come off. First, my laptop broke, but that was not a problem, as I'd just ship it to Arizona and it would be back in a week. The next day in the gym, my iPod broke. Again, that was not a problem, as they do play music in the gym, but I would prefer not to end up knowing the words to every Britney Spears song. Two days later, despite having religiously put in a two-hour workout every day and eating right, both Katharine and I fell ill. Taking to our beds, we had no Internet, no music, and no phone; did I forget to mention that my mobile had been stolen? There is only so much
CSI and
Law and Order that you can take, and just before I really began to despair, I remembered that I had brought the book Jesse May had given to me for my birthday, the inspiration for the smash Broadway hit
Guys and Dolls, the stories of Damon Runyon. There is nothing I enjoy more than a good story, especially when it involves larger-than-life characters and ingenious gambling coups. This was just the medicine I needed.
As promised, the laptop was returned as good as new within a week. I felt well enough to lie by the pool instead of in bed, and I was looking forward to the arrival of my son and friends in a few days. We hired a limo to pick them up, and after a great night, I felt like I had just arrived with them. The events of the previous weeks were behind me, and I was ready for the $5,000 shorthanded event the next day. At the time of writing, I am one hour away from playing, so even I cannot predict the end to this story.
Yesterday I was out and about, and I discovered that there are free buses from the Rio to Sam's Town. It's about 10 miles away, and the free bus takes you to Harrah's and then out to Sam's Town. Sam's Town is where the cowboys go, and get off their horses with their dusty spurs, and you can get refried beans and a bottomless cup of coffee and biscuits and gravy, all for $1.99. I went out there and spent less than $5. I took eight of us there, all from Bridgnorth. Bridgnorth was empty, because everybody you can think of was in Las Vegas; Daz Hickman, Jez Bailey, and Graham the Machine and his mates all had a beautiful time.
Alongside playing, I once again hosted a range of entertainment in the Ladbrokes players lounge. It was twice the size of last year, with one pool table, two poker tables, signed cues by Steve Davis, official England footballs, Win With Wilson, Play Your Cards Right, and our own Ladbrokes bracelet tournaments. All of the darters were there, and the snooker players, plus a hundred lads from the UK.
Mad Marty Wilson is a professional gambler and poker consultant for Matchroom Sport.
