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Last weekend, Mike Gracz, winner of both a World Series bracelet and a WPT event, was arrested in his home state of North Carolina along with 60 others on the misdemeanor charge of “engaging in a game of chance.” Another 10 were charged with “operating a game of chance.”
What mystified me about this story is how I learned of it. When I signed on to AOL on September 11, it was the lead story on the Welcome page. On September 11.
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On Monday, Thomas Bihl was the first player eliminated from the Main Event. The first WSOP-E bracelet winner, on one of the opening hands, received two queens. The first represented Jennifer Harman, the last and most troublesome of the 104 players vanquished on the way to his HORSE title. What he didn’t realize until too late was that while Harman was busy carving up a nearby table, the other queen was flesh and blood in the form of the woman across from him with a pair of sixes, who made a set on the flop and quads on the turn, after which Thomas put in the last of his chips.
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It seemed a long walk along Park Lane to get to Marble Arch. I had bought a pair of Mephisto walking shoes before the trip for $250 but my feet were throbbing, especially my left foot, as we passed the Dorchester, a luxury auto dealer who offered bulletproofing, and the other tenants fronting Hyde Park, one of London’s richest and most exclusive areas.
Ted and Tibor both decided they needed a bathroom, and fast. They were about to cross into the Park and take their chances in the bushes when we saw a subway entrance that promised a bathroom. We trudged down the stairs and I realized this did not resemble a London Underground station.
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Walking fast through Mayfair, I sensed Ted Forrest did not approve of my career choice. I explained the circumstances that led me to discontinue my column with Bluff, which paid £600 per month. Although I never expected a poker player would be impressed with magazine wages – doesn’t the low card bring it in for more in Larry Flynt’s game? – Ted suspected I was getting an excellent return on labour.
“Isn’t that usually pretty easy work?”
“Sure,” I said, “Especially because I usually just hang around with you for a few hours and write down what happens.”
And so it continues.
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The Main Event started two hours ago, at three venues – The Empire at Leicester Square (home for the first two events and the end of the Main Event), The Fifty at St. James Square, and The Sportsman at Marble Arch. I’ve spent time at The Empire and also visited The Victoria Casino; I haven’t seen Fifty or Sportsman yet.
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Jennifer Harman, one of the world’s premiere high-stakes poker professionals and holder of two World Series of Poker bracelets, came up just short in her battle to win her third, and the first ever awarded outside the United States. And a battle it was. Thomas Bihl dodged and parried all day and all night – the final table lasted 353 hands according to Pokernews.com and over 14 hours from its 2 PM start – and finally delivered several deadly thrusts with big cards at the right times in the closing hands.
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[This was written yesterday afternoon, September 7. Although it recites at the end that I rushed off to the tournament, I merely THOUGHT that was what I was doing. A future entry will describe my midadventure with Ted Forrest, in addition to overdue entries on my experience in the HORSE, my tour of London with Tony Holden, and the action I keep TRYING to catch up on in the tournament.]
It’s 3:40 PM and I have set up provisional WSOP-E headquarters for The Full Tilt Poker Blog at Davidoff on Jermyn Street. Jermyn has historically been a man’s avenue. If you need a suit or a short or a belt or a hat (especially if it is bespoke – made entirely to your specifications), you go to Jermyn Street.
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The part of these adventures in which I PLAY poker is being replaced by the part in which I WRITE about poker. I’d like to say that’s because of the press of fascinating things to write – that’s actually technically true – but it’s REALLY because I just busted out of the one WSOP-E event in which I allowed myself entry, £2,500 HORSE.
I’m a little stunned.
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Time: Depends on who you ask
Location: 1st class cabin, Northwest flight #44, on the ground in Minneapolis, destination London.
I am way too unsophisticated for luxury travel. I booked business class for this flight – Uncle Tilty gave his permission – but there’s no section more posh than this, so let’s call this First Class.
I had to dash through the Minneapolis airport to make the connection just before the doors closed. Sweating, panting, loaded with luggage, books, water bottles, and notepads, I stumbled FORWARD from the plane’s entrance to Seat 3-G.
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[Written during the Phoenix to Minneapolis portion of my September 3-4 flight to London.]
I’M NOT READY FOR THE FOOTBALL
I worked on figuring out what’s up in the NFL this year, in preparation for the football pool my friend Joanne (she’s a different person from my wife Jo Anne – note the spelling) enter every year. The first year we entered together, we won it. Since then, we have lost so badly that they’d revoke our membership if we weren’t such easy money for everybody else. To assure that our participation will continue to be appreciated, I have taken the precaution of stiffing the commissioner, my once-good friend Al.
I’ll be happy to pay the entry fee, Al. As soon as you get a judgment against me. And get in line!
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