Posted by Editor | Filed under 2010 WSOP, Mike Matusow
No matter what we get out of this
I know we’ll never forget
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky.
-Deep Purple, “Smoke on the Water”
This is what I stayed up 42 fucking hours to play?
This fucking hellhole?
-Mike Matusow
4 AM, June 16, 2010, Las Vegas - It’s past 4 AM as I write this, though it may be a day or two before it’s finished. I suppose my day was unremarkable until about 11 PM (the time when most reasonable people in the world go to bed) when I approached my assistant Shauna and said, “These are my plans for the rest of the night. I recognize that some of them are in conflict. (1) Go to bed, because I’m still getting over being sick. (2) Go to the Rio and pay $1,500 to play HORSE at 5 PM tomorrow. (3) Go to the Rio and pay $1,500 to play no limit hold ‘em at noon tomorrow. (4) Watch the limit hold ‘em championship. (5) Have a cigar with Howard Lederer; (6) Meet Michael, a fan of the blog who is in town. (7) Find Andy Bloch and have him show me how to play Full Tilt Poker on my iPad; (8) Meet Hayes, your country-singer friend who’s in town; (9) Eat dinner.”
The only plan that was clearly out of bounds was (1). I wasn’t going to bed. And that made it easy to cross off (3), because if I was going to accomplish any of these things, there was no way I would be able to play poker at noon. Beyond that, there’s no way to keep score of the next five hours: surly poker players, cooking fires, gruff security guards, disagreeable women … and Mike Matusow, who gave me the job as his designated driver for the evening.
When you approach an open set of double doors into the Amazon Room at the Rio Convention Center at 12:20 AM, it seems eerily quiet. Yes, it’s late at night and, yes, only a few lost souls are wandering the halls. But this is poker and isn’t midnight Prime Time for poker players? Doesn’t the Amazon Room seat 2,000 comfortably, with lots of additional room for spectators, cocktail servers, massage girls, floorpeople, bodyguards, media, and people who generally don’t fit in anyplace else in the world?
The first sound you hear isn’t voices or human movement. The Amazon Room echoes something fittingly natural. Wind whistling through the brush? Birds pecking at trees? Crickets chirping? It is a small sound, but rhythmic, like millions of cicadas.
When you walk inside, the staccato sound reverberates through the cavernous room – 80% empty – but you can’t find the source. It’s everywhere. More accurately, it’s everyone. The sound of riffling chips.
The second sound that I hear upon entering the Amazon Room on this occasion is Mike Matusow.
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Loading ...2 Responses to “My Day Begins at Midnight, Part I – Every Story Looks Funny at 4 AM – #1133”
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play free games Says:
August 25th, 2010 at 9:41 amHe totally makes me interested with his whole told story in his diary blog. I can’t wait to tell his feelings while he is playing in the tournament.
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Poker Sponsorship Says:
November 9th, 2010 at 5:40 pmSounds like some tired players to me, I would probably be power napping between blinds
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