Friday, June 18, 2004
Poker Articles, Pro Tips and Player Profiles from CardPlayer.com . The Poker Authority2004 World Series Follies — Part II
by Max Shapiro
This is the second part of my riveting report on my adventures and observations while doing tournament report writing for Finaltablepoker.com at the 2004 World Series.
As you know, they had an astonishing turnout of 2,576 players for the championship event, three times as many as the year before. For the final supersatellites, the last chance to win a seat, they had more than 600 players lined up to register. Players had to wait hours to get to the registration desk. The line snaked all along the corridor outside the tournament room, past the buffet, around the corner past the pressroom, then around two more corners to the hotel side, down the escalator to the main floor casino, out the door to Fremont Street, then halfway down Las Vegas Boulevard. You'd think they were giving away free copies of my book!
They had more bodies in the pressroom than they had players in the tournament room last year. Playing tables were set up in the main tournament room, the main poker room, the no-limit pit, the single-table satellite area, the low-limit poker area, the sportsbook, above the sportsbook, in front of the casino, and in all the restrooms. I was told that the fire marshal tried to shut the place down, but it was so crowded he couldn't get in.
(That had been my best one-liner until I learned the fire marshal really had threatened to shut down the tournament if they didn't move six tables back from the Fremont Street entrance.)
Next year they plan to hold just the final two days of the championship event at the Horseshoe, with preliminary days held at the Rio. The Rio? How about the Astrodome?
First place paid $5 million. I tried to figure out how many columns I would have to write and how many years it would take at what Barry Shulman pays me before I earned $5 million, but my calculator wouldn't go that high. It doesn't matter. The sun would burn out before that happened.
My big fear at the World Series, other than dying from exhaustion while covering the events, was that I would die from a blow to the head when I covered the Seniors tournament and ran into Oklahoma Johnny Hale. But he was gracious and forgiving of all the columns I have written about him. His only request was that I report that he gave out free caps and copies of his books to the Seniors finalists and did not try to make them pay by choking them, as I have suggested he sometimes does. OK, Johnny, you did not choke anybody (not this time, anyway), and I will never poke fun at you again.
The big news at the Series this year, other than its size, was the announcement that all gaming-related logo wear would be banned from any final table that was being filmed for television. The only exception would be for casinos in the Harrah's stable. The ban was the result of things getting out of line because of what Internet casinos were doing. It was becoming one big bidding war, or bazaar. Reps from online sites were offering cash, as much as $5,000, to anyone making a filmed final table who agreed to wear that site's logo wear.
It sounded pretty tempting. I was discussing it with writer/poker player Debbie Burkhead, and she said that for $5,000, she would wear a logoed bra on TV. Nolan Dalla joined the conversation and said that for $5,000, he would, too.
In any event, the result had been that on some days, half the field was sporting logos from a single online site. It looked like they were all part of a team.
The final straw came when Frank "Hollywood" Henderson heard what was going on and rushed out to set up a player auction on stage.
"An' here in seat four, ladies an' gents, is Mr. Rocky Slobovia. What am I bid to have him wear yer shirt? He's got a lotta chips, lotta moves, an' promises not ta sweat yer shirt up too much."
The ban was particularly bad news for OK Johnny. He walks around flashing more logos and patches and banners than a NASCAR racing machine. Everything he owns is plastered with "Oklahoma Johnny Hale," "The Seniors," "Gentleman Gambler," "Elder Statesman of Poker," an outline of the state of Oklahoma, and so many other advertisements for himself that if he ever made a final table, he'd have to play in his underwear. If he also had logos on his shorts, as I imagine he does, he'd really be in trouble. Well, not to worry. Even though in each of his columns he assures his wife Carol that he'll win the championship each year, he hasn't had a WSOP cash-out since 1896.
Big Denny posed another potential problem. For years he's been trying to get on TV wearing a shirt that advertised his Barstow Card Casino. He had even promised to keep his logo within the 2-by-3 limit that previously had been in effect. Trouble is, he thinks it means 2-by-3 feet.
Anyway, the WSOP allowed advertising sponsorship this year from an entirely different and unlikely source. There, emblazoned on the final table, was the name for a non-gaming sponsor: Levitra. For those of you innocent of such things, Levitra is a male potency drug, a successor to Viagra. That should get a rise out of viewers when the ESPN shows are telecast. What's needed now are some good, tasteful slogans tying Levitra and poker together, such as: "No more bad flops," "No more limping," "Play hard," "I'm all in," and "No more soft-playing."
While in Vegas I read in Phil Hellmuth's column that he is talking to apparel manufacturers about producing his own line of clothing — baby clothes, no doubt.
Talking about babies, everyone was shaking his head at how many kiddies were taking home bracelets. At the time of this writing, a 23-year-old had won two, and a 22-year-old another. If this trend continues, ESPN will have to film in a playpen instead of a soundstage.
And how about the women? Nah, I'm not talking about the three ladies who won open-event bracelets. Who cares about that? I'm talking, first of all, about Jill Ann Saunders, the buxom blonde bombshell ex-Playmate poker player from Arizona who strolled up to the final table during one tournament and did a Janet Jackson by fully exposing herself, covered only by small heart-shaped pasties. Jill is a rather familiar (prominent?) figure in the poker world. She's appeared on talk shows, was once on the cover of Poker Digest, has an autobiography out, and travels around carrying a toy poodle named "Hold'em." So, why did she do a public strip? Well, she explained that she worked very hard as a spokesperson for one of the online sites, and even wore their "boring" short-sleeved shirts to comply with their request that she not overexpose herself. Then, she discovered that the site is launching a multimillion-dollar ad campaign in Britain, featuring a different blonde who looks like her. So, she resigned in a huff from her position with that site and this was her way of giving them a figurative one-finger salute.
All right, before I get a penalty for being raunchier than usual (although for once, it's all true), I'll sign off and wonder what new miracles will be wrought at the 2005 WSOP.
by Max Shapiro
This is the second part of my riveting report on my adventures and observations while doing tournament report writing for Finaltablepoker.com at the 2004 World Series.
As you know, they had an astonishing turnout of 2,576 players for the championship event, three times as many as the year before. For the final supersatellites, the last chance to win a seat, they had more than 600 players lined up to register. Players had to wait hours to get to the registration desk. The line snaked all along the corridor outside the tournament room, past the buffet, around the corner past the pressroom, then around two more corners to the hotel side, down the escalator to the main floor casino, out the door to Fremont Street, then halfway down Las Vegas Boulevard. You'd think they were giving away free copies of my book!
They had more bodies in the pressroom than they had players in the tournament room last year. Playing tables were set up in the main tournament room, the main poker room, the no-limit pit, the single-table satellite area, the low-limit poker area, the sportsbook, above the sportsbook, in front of the casino, and in all the restrooms. I was told that the fire marshal tried to shut the place down, but it was so crowded he couldn't get in.
(That had been my best one-liner until I learned the fire marshal really had threatened to shut down the tournament if they didn't move six tables back from the Fremont Street entrance.)
Next year they plan to hold just the final two days of the championship event at the Horseshoe, with preliminary days held at the Rio. The Rio? How about the Astrodome?
First place paid $5 million. I tried to figure out how many columns I would have to write and how many years it would take at what Barry Shulman pays me before I earned $5 million, but my calculator wouldn't go that high. It doesn't matter. The sun would burn out before that happened.
My big fear at the World Series, other than dying from exhaustion while covering the events, was that I would die from a blow to the head when I covered the Seniors tournament and ran into Oklahoma Johnny Hale. But he was gracious and forgiving of all the columns I have written about him. His only request was that I report that he gave out free caps and copies of his books to the Seniors finalists and did not try to make them pay by choking them, as I have suggested he sometimes does. OK, Johnny, you did not choke anybody (not this time, anyway), and I will never poke fun at you again.
The big news at the Series this year, other than its size, was the announcement that all gaming-related logo wear would be banned from any final table that was being filmed for television. The only exception would be for casinos in the Harrah's stable. The ban was the result of things getting out of line because of what Internet casinos were doing. It was becoming one big bidding war, or bazaar. Reps from online sites were offering cash, as much as $5,000, to anyone making a filmed final table who agreed to wear that site's logo wear.
It sounded pretty tempting. I was discussing it with writer/poker player Debbie Burkhead, and she said that for $5,000, she would wear a logoed bra on TV. Nolan Dalla joined the conversation and said that for $5,000, he would, too.
In any event, the result had been that on some days, half the field was sporting logos from a single online site. It looked like they were all part of a team.
The final straw came when Frank "Hollywood" Henderson heard what was going on and rushed out to set up a player auction on stage.
"An' here in seat four, ladies an' gents, is Mr. Rocky Slobovia. What am I bid to have him wear yer shirt? He's got a lotta chips, lotta moves, an' promises not ta sweat yer shirt up too much."
The ban was particularly bad news for OK Johnny. He walks around flashing more logos and patches and banners than a NASCAR racing machine. Everything he owns is plastered with "Oklahoma Johnny Hale," "The Seniors," "Gentleman Gambler," "Elder Statesman of Poker," an outline of the state of Oklahoma, and so many other advertisements for himself that if he ever made a final table, he'd have to play in his underwear. If he also had logos on his shorts, as I imagine he does, he'd really be in trouble. Well, not to worry. Even though in each of his columns he assures his wife Carol that he'll win the championship each year, he hasn't had a WSOP cash-out since 1896.
Big Denny posed another potential problem. For years he's been trying to get on TV wearing a shirt that advertised his Barstow Card Casino. He had even promised to keep his logo within the 2-by-3 limit that previously had been in effect. Trouble is, he thinks it means 2-by-3 feet.
Anyway, the WSOP allowed advertising sponsorship this year from an entirely different and unlikely source. There, emblazoned on the final table, was the name for a non-gaming sponsor: Levitra. For those of you innocent of such things, Levitra is a male potency drug, a successor to Viagra. That should get a rise out of viewers when the ESPN shows are telecast. What's needed now are some good, tasteful slogans tying Levitra and poker together, such as: "No more bad flops," "No more limping," "Play hard," "I'm all in," and "No more soft-playing."
While in Vegas I read in Phil Hellmuth's column that he is talking to apparel manufacturers about producing his own line of clothing — baby clothes, no doubt.
Talking about babies, everyone was shaking his head at how many kiddies were taking home bracelets. At the time of this writing, a 23-year-old had won two, and a 22-year-old another. If this trend continues, ESPN will have to film in a playpen instead of a soundstage.
And how about the women? Nah, I'm not talking about the three ladies who won open-event bracelets. Who cares about that? I'm talking, first of all, about Jill Ann Saunders, the buxom blonde bombshell ex-Playmate poker player from Arizona who strolled up to the final table during one tournament and did a Janet Jackson by fully exposing herself, covered only by small heart-shaped pasties. Jill is a rather familiar (prominent?) figure in the poker world. She's appeared on talk shows, was once on the cover of Poker Digest, has an autobiography out, and travels around carrying a toy poodle named "Hold'em." So, why did she do a public strip? Well, she explained that she worked very hard as a spokesperson for one of the online sites, and even wore their "boring" short-sleeved shirts to comply with their request that she not overexpose herself. Then, she discovered that the site is launching a multimillion-dollar ad campaign in Britain, featuring a different blonde who looks like her. So, she resigned in a huff from her position with that site and this was her way of giving them a figurative one-finger salute.
All right, before I get a penalty for being raunchier than usual (although for once, it's all true), I'll sign off and wonder what new miracles will be wrought at the 2005 WSOP.
