Lights, Camera, Action

Last July I was invited to participate in the taping of a documentary about "gambling games." The part I was involved with had to do with – "Duh," you guessed it – poker.

The producer of the piece, Richard Wall, had contacted me several months before the taping was done. We had several discussions about poker and how he would be doing the piece. Even though we did all of the shooting for the documentary way back in July, it took 10 months for the finished product to be shown. The show, Gambling Games: Why the House Wins, aired in May of this year.

During the time period between when the piece was shot and when it was shown, I talked to Richard a few times over the telephone. During one of our conversations, he was able to give me the actual date that Gambling Games was to be shown. He also told me that he had been chosen to cover the World Series of Poker in 2001, and asked if I would mind talking about past tapings of the Series, and what I liked and disliked about them. I was happy to do that, and even went a step further and agreed to send him all of my tapes of previous years' WSOP action. Richard, the true professional, wanted to do his homework.

We agreed that when WSOP time actually came, we would sit down at Binion's Horseshoe and again discuss how best he might approach the taping. He wanted to do the best taping of the WSOP possible.

The day after the WSOP started, I saw Richard at Binion's. We talked for a couple of hours, and he informed me that he was there for some preliminary work and would be leaving the next day and returning two days before the "Big One."

A couple of days before the big event, the media began to arrive and I spotted Richard and his crew. We talked briefly about how things were going, and I reluctantly (ha-ha) consented to do an interview. I think he asked me something like, "How confident are you of winning?" I tried to say something catchy, because I know that you have a better chance of being included on the tape, and not being thrown on the editing floor, if you say something a little different.

I said something like, "No matter how confident I am as a player, when I look up and see 600 other players, I feel like I am going to the gallows." Being brutally honest, I must admit that this year's $10,000 event was like going to the gallows for me. I lasted until about 11 p.m. on the first day, and then I was hanged – I mean, eliminated.

The next day, before I left on that long, long ride home to West Hills, California, I had my last free meal and then headed for the parking garage. Someone tapped me on the shoulder just as I was starting to get on the elevator, and I turned to see Richard Wall. Richard said all the right things, such as, "Sorry to see that you got knocked out," and, "I was hoping you would win it."

Then, he asked if I would consider coming back for the final day of the "Big One" as a consultant. I thought it sounded interesting, so I agreed and started home. Even though it wasn't the best WSOP I have ever had, the bottom line was that I was leaving as a winner, because maybe a new career opportunity was on the horizon. I was excited.

On that following Friday, I flew back to Las Vegas, took a cab to Binion's, had a nice breakfast, and then with the utmost confidence decided that whatever they asked me to do, I would have no problem.

When I arrived in the tournament area, I was taken to the control booth, which was in an area behind where the final table was located. There was a bunch of technical equipment and a bank of five or so monitors. They attached a microphone to me and gave me a seat next to the director, Eddie Speeks. He had directed last year's World Series, so he knew what he was doing, but as an expert in poker, they thought I might see something that he might not see or observe. I was told to comment on anything I wanted, without doing a play-by-play. They would not be using anything I might say on the final tape, but thought my comments might help them in the editing room to notice something that I might have mentioned.

When the action started, I realized that I might be in a heap of trouble. It was confusing to see all of those screens going at once. The director said "Camera one," and the guy next to him pushed a button. There was a little confusion about where the action was, and I was asked, "Where's the action?" I pointed to the player whose turn it was to act, and the director said, " Great! Camera four." The first hour or so was one of the hardest, most confusing things I had ever done. As simple as it is to follow the poker action when you are at the table or have a good vantage point, it is not the same when you're sitting behind a curtain trying to watch five monitors at the same time.

Strangely, and almost magically, at some point (about an hour into the taping), we had the whole thing down pat. On the few occasions when the director would lose where the action was, he would ask, "Where's it at?" I would say, "Seat nine," and he would say, "Camera three."

By the time we had been taping for less than an hour and a half, I was comfortable and having fun. I felt like one of the crew.

To be perfectly honest, the reason I decided to write this column was that after seeing the taping of the final table firsthand, I realized that we poker players may be going in the wrong direction.

Let me try to explain. Most of us in the poker community have been hearing for years that we should be upstanding gentlemen or ladies at the final table – no jiving, no meanness, no ugliness, and so on. It is said that this good conduct will advance poker and perhaps bring in mainstream corporate sponsors.

The truth is, those taping this year's WSOP were as much, if not more, interested in the "human interest" side of it as the "action" side of it. They continually tried to catch the personal interaction between the players. The more heated, rude, or funny the situation, the more they tried to capture it.

For example, all of the players at the last table had microphones. Whenever any of the players showed some frustration by saying something unkind, and perhaps received a similar response from someone, the director said, "Did we get that? Great. Great."

They also wanted the cameras to follow the players as they were eliminated. I am reasonably sure that they, again, were looking for the human touch – such as a player so frustrated that he might kick a table or throw his water bottle across the room.

I have no idea what this whole thing is going to look like when it is finally edited. Unfortunately, if it's like past years, we will have to wait several months before we can actually see the final product.

As for me, it turned out to be an experience I will never forget. It was fun, and, truthfully, after the first hour or so, it was almost like watching a symphony – everyone doing his job in perfect harmony with everyone else.

The day after the WSOP was over, I took a limo to the airport. One of the crew from the taping, a young man named Chaz Howard, happened to be in the same limo. He paid me one of the nicest compliments I have ever received. When we parted at the airport, we shook hands, and he said, "Nice working with you."

During the entire flight home, I felt good. Now, if anybody ever asks me, I can honestly say, "I've worked in television."

Even though I would have much preferred playing at the final table of the final event of the WSOP, I want to publicly thank my friend Richard Wall; his very nice and polite nephew Geoff Wall; the director, Eddie Speeks; and the entire crew for letting me be a "part" of the 2001 WSOP final-table experience.

For what it's worth …