Gary Wise Blog

Allen Cunningham just busted out, courtesy of Jamie Gold. It’s 2:24 AM, I got here at 8 AM and slept for a little over three hours, so as my will to type saps, it seems like an appropriate time to close off this here blog.

The 2006 World Series has been a transformational experience for me. I’ve spent the last half-decade learning the poker world through extensive research, but nothing I’ve done has approached the importance of this. I now know many of the subjects I’ve been writing about on a more intimate level, which is going to in turn allow me to do a better job of illustrating who they are as people. It’s been a privilege to get to know an extraordinary group of people here.

As with every WSOP, the 2006 edition has been historic. Phil won his tenth, playing what may be the best poker of his life; Madsen broke EFro’s record, EFro set a new record and Madsen broke that one too; the first $50,000 HORSE event was a rousing success that saw Chip Reese take his rightful place on top of the poker world; veterans like Lee Watkinson and Max Pescatore won their first bracelets, while Bill Chen won his first two. Being able to observe these goings on in person is something I’ll always remember and be thankful for.

I have to send out some thank yous;

- To Eddie Kleid, Eric Morris, Jeff Markley and Michael Caselli, the owners of Bluff, who made my being here a reality.
- To Nick Geber, who gave me a shot at my first radio gig and let me run with it.
- To Ian Mackenzie, Gloria Balding and Jason Kirk, the producers of Bluff Radio.
- To John Vorhaus, Scott Preston, C. Thomas Howell, Tiffany Michelle and the rest of my co-hosts.
- To Joe, Chad, Justin and Steak and Eggs, the unsung heroes of Bluff Radio, who made things run so smoothly from the back.
- To the people in the player’s lounges at Ultimate Bet, Full Tilt, Poker Stars and Doyle’s Room, who recognized I was trying to be more than just another reporter and who treated me as such.
- To poker’s professional players and their significant others, so many of whom gave me their valuable time that could never be replaced by all of the reading and research in the world.
- To Michael Craig, Jay Greenspan, Johnny Kampis, Storms Reback and all of the other poker writers with who I pooled knowledge and passion for this game of ours.
- To Andy Glazer, Mike Paulle, Max Shapiro and all those writers who have shared their love of the game for years and educated the new wave.
- To the ESPN crew, the floormen, the dealers, Harrah’s Interns, Imagemasters employees and everyone else who welcomed me into their community with open arms.
- To Nolan Dala, the hardest working man in poker. Nolan, you took me under your wing and were always giving of your time. The world may not see just how much you give to the game, but I do. I will always appreciate your friendship.
- To Gary Thompson, a true gentleman who is truly of the game.
- To Jeffrey Pollock, who has honored me with his interest in my opinions. I’m confident he will truly be a steward of the game.
- To the Maher family, to whom I will be eternally grateful.
- Finally, to Lawrence Rabie. You saved my life. I couldn’t have gotten here without you.

That mushiness out of the way, thanks to all of you who have been following along here. It’s been a pleasure sharing my experience with you and I hope you’ll allow me to continue to do so. I’ll be re-invigorating my blog at www.wisehandpoker.com, with many pros agreeing to participate in weekly conversations with me. I’m hoping to provide a bridge from them to you, and with the help of some very talented writers, preserve a game I hold near and dear to my heart. Thanks for reading,

Gary Wise
gary@wisehandpoker.com

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More weeks ago than I care to remember, I interviewed Jeffrey Pollock. When I interview someone, I keep things informal; no recording devices; occasional notes, but only to mark the conversation; lots of off the record questioning, done to prevent me from misrepresenting the truth. It’s a friendly atmosphere I’m trying to foster and I think it generally makes the subject a lot more comfortable, and maybe more human.

When I interviewed Jeffrey, my impression was one of intense self-control. His movements and statements felt measured in an impressive way. This was a man who obviously knew how to control himself to the letter, giving away only what he wanted to give away.

I never got that interview written up because of time issues and an ever changing image of Pollock’s character. We’ve had many occasions to talk about many subjects within the realm of poker. He’s bounced some ideas off of me and listened when I’ve had some for him. He even sought me out for my input on a couple of occasions, debating the points he found debatable without letting pride get in the way of his judgments. In case you can’t tell, I’m impressed with our new commissioner.

Do a Google search and you’ll learn about Pollack’s background; immaculate education, NASCAR etc. What you won’t find there is a real thirst for excellence and a warmth that one might have difficulty recognizing at first, but which becomes more apparent with each connection.

Pollock’s primary attribute beyond his business acumen, at least from my perspective, has been an honest streak that sees him break the bad news when a question is asked that we won’t like the answer to. Will the rake be cut back next year? No. Will ESPN film every tournament next year? No. Like them or hate them, the answers are true. It shows a fundamental respect for the players that he isn’t misleading them.

Things here are far from perfect, but in a game like poker, perfection can never be reached. That in turn means that no plan can cover all contingencies and the random factors will not be accounted for. I have faith however he’s going to do his best to address the problems he can within budgetary restraints. Those restraints are very real; Harrah’s is in this business to make money and that’s not going to change any time soon. At least Pollack will tell us as much.

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Last night, Scott Preston and I did what I’m guessing was my final broadcast of the 2006 World Series on Sirius, which I capped off with a minute of thank yous to everyone who made my participation possible. I was ready to go grab a bite to eat and head home for about 11 PM in order to get a good night’s sleep before today’s marathon.

As I prepared to leave, Ian Mackenzie, producer extraordinaire pointed out that event 45 was still going, and with 27 players left, both Phil Hellmuth and Doyle Brunson had big stacks.

As it often will, my mind started racing as visions of the two titans facing one another in the finals for number eleven passed through. I headed over and took my seat between Ultimatebet.com and doylesroom.com parties who were there supporting their men. At 2:30, I was finally on my way home as they drew for tables at 18 players. What I got before leaving was a hell of a show from one of the best Hold’em players on earth.

Phil was doing ok at his table, but he lost some money on a hand where he’d been called on a flop of 10-6-5 before a turned six forced his ten out. The guy he was playing against actually showed the six. We were all shocked as Phil started into one of his moments despite the utter lack of video cameras in his proximity (It’s not an act folks). A few minutes later though, he needed a quick regroup; Brunson was moving to his table.

Sadly, the expected spectacle never took place. Not three hands into his tenure, Doyle lost half his stack to ‘Stephano’, the homeless man who’d been wandering the Rio’s hallways in unchanged clothed for the last six weeks, who seemed as happy to be getting the free beer as he was the pots. It was only a little while later that the old man gave away the rest of his stack, his pocket fours getting in against pocket tens with no help to come. “They’re all yours, Phil” he said, leaving with a smile.

With Cyndy Violette eliminated just before Doyle and David Chiu after him, the path seemed clear for Hellmuth. Captain Tom Franklin was the only recognizable face in the field to my blurry eyes and he’d go 19th, but not before a dominating performance by Phil.

Sitting at a table with poker matriarch and Players committee member Maureen Feduniak along with three amateurs rendered timid by his bluster, Phil went on an unbelievable run that saw him win some 75% of the hands played for an hour. He won something like eight in a row at one point as the others helplessly watched him take their ante’s and blinds. Phil’s position was a real peach and he was racing against the clock with one more elimination forcing a re-draw. It was remarkable to watch.

When it went to 18, I made the move home, but I got a text message for UB’s Victor Bigio at 6:40AM saying “Maureen has 80 percent of the chips with 3 to go, phil there too.” By 7:30, I was too restless to sleep. Maureen has lived and bled poker for over twenty years and is one of the most beloved members of the Vegas community, winning many ‘person of the year’-type awards for her good will and intentions. While her victory would hardly make a dent news-wise in the larger sense, I know just how much a bracelet would have meant to her and I couldn’t help but want to be there to see it. I called a cab. By 8:30 I was back.

Sadly, the tide had turned. Maureen was sitting with a third of the chips with Phil eliminated (his 8th cash by the way, a series high). She hadn’t found her second gear, preferring to play post-flop poker against an opponent who clearly had her number in that style of play. Not once did I see her raise pre-flop and it cost her dearly as she let him draw into his hands time and again. I wanted to tell her to started muscling pre-flop, but I worried about the appropriateness of saying something to her while wearing my press badge. I finally made a brief mention to her son-in-law. He gave me a smile and continued watching without a word. Twenty minutes later, she called all-in with K-J pre-flop against A-J. It was over.

Now, I feel like I’m at Gettysburg the morning of the battle. The room is virtually empty, misted in the hopes of nine players seeking their bracelets and the community that holds its breath in anticipation of the day’s play. It’s going to go long, with some prognostications suggestion that I could still be here late tomorrow morning. I don’t know that we’ll see that extreme, but I know I’m on the precipice of history. It’s going to be a long, fun day; I’m going to sleep a long time tomorrow.

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Day off? I laugh at your day off.

Today was supposed to be the day where we were playing twenty-seven down to nine. Thanks to the remaining players ignoring convention and playing above blind levels, the final table is at home, smug in their beds with a cup of soup with milk and cookies waiting. The rest of us don’t have it so easy.

This place is chaos. The radio broadcast is getting intense as we do everything in our power to make it all it can be and it goes without saying there’s always more we can do in striving for that perfection. ESPN’s crew is setting up the big stage as producers debate every detail.

For the tournament staff, the idea of a day off is coming in to do all of the same stuff they’ve done for forty-five days without the formal wear. I didn’t know Nolan Dala had non-suit clothing until I saw him in his Mickey Mantle T-shirt today. Still, he’s here, doing his thing, dotting the T’s and crossing the I’s as the countdown continues.

We’re all exhausted; we’re all sick. A cold and flu bug has been floating around and one of our producers Gloria has become a drug pusher as a result, providing anyone and everyone with Vitamin C, Ibuprofen echanacia golden seal. Throw in that healthy dose of sleep deprivation as the days get longer and nights shorter, you have a recipe for one dead tournament staff, set to cook until we finish this thing up Friday morning.

Am I complaining? Hell no. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t love it, at least at some level. We may bitch and moan now, but we all knew it was coming. Maybe next year we can keep it to five hour days with accessible Jacuzzis and massages for everyone. Until then, here’s to working your ass to the bone.

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I was at home nursing a fever when it happened, but Jamie Gold apparently got Prahlad Friedman with a massive bluff, showing the cards and sending Friedman on a massive steamer.

Prahlad, better known to many as Mahatma or SpiritRock, the names he plays under most often online, was one of the last remaining pros in the field. I’ve been hoping all month for a professional champion, so his exodus was disappointing. Jeffrey Lisandro followed a couple of hours later, leaving just Allen Cunningham amongst a sea of new names.

Cunningham’s name may inspire such discussion in some circles already, but a victory here would propel him into the ‘best player in the world’ debates. Two bracelets, one in a 8,773-player Main Event would be a major accomplishment. His fifth bracelet would tie him with Phil Ivey and Chris Ferguson for most bracelets since the turn of the millennium. In the era of super-fields, that would be one hell of an accomplishment.

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David Einhorn is a wealthy man regardless of his 18th place finish here. I wrote about him earlier this week, making reference to the blue sweatshirt his family gave him with their finger-painted handprints top to bottom. A likeable guy, he made a proclamation earlier that he’d be donating his winnings to Michael J. Fox’s Parkinson’s research-related charity.

Einhorn’s loss to Jamie Gold was followed by the chip leader’s supporters celebrating “The charity is dead!” leading some observers to get upset, but I don’t think the celebration was literal; I don’t think those supporters WANTED to deprive Parkinson’s sufferers of their potential windfall, just that they want to see a Gold victory and anyone who gets in the way is the opposition to be mowed down.

The Gold supporters have also been heard cheering for Allen Cuinningham’s demise, hardly surprising considering the fearsome reputation and obstacle the quiet four-time champion represents. My interpretation is that such prayers represent a begrudging respect, maybe even fear of what has to be considered the best player left in the tournament.

Gold, by the way, has been personally taught by the one and only Johnny Chan. Formerly Chan’s agent, Jamie has gone on record as saying that while his competitive streak wants the victory, he’s more than familiar with the price of fame and he isn’t enamored with the idea of embracing it.

Chan, who accepts those rigors, has been ever-present in Jamie’s run, advising him along the way to his massive chip lead. He also now has in his possession $200 that used to be mine. I’m not sure why the one guy I’m willing to gamble with is Johnny Chan, but I’m apparently something of an idiot.

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It’s 4PM on Monday and we’re down to thirty players. According to the schedule, based on the blind structure, we’re supposed to reach twenty-seven at the end of tomorrow. Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to take that long.

This may be an oversimplification, but I think we’re seeing the effects of a watered-down field in a way that hasn’t been obvious in past incarnations of the Big One. In the past, men and women put up $10,000 each and defended their chips with honor, playing good, solid, post-flop poker in a skill-intensive contest where the best man often won. Maybe it’s a chicken-egg conversation, I but that fact Brunson, Chan, Moss and Ungar are the only two-time winners says something about the skill it took to win the Main Event in the past. Not anymore?

With a field composed of a vast majority of online players accustomed to all-in poker, most of who qualified via low buy-in satellite, we’re seeing a style of play that lacks accountability. The stories of misplayed hands and loose calls have dominated the press person quilting circles. Online casino employees and brick and mortar staff shake their heads in wonder at the things they’ve seen. More than one has told me ‘I wish I’d entered now’. Part of me wishes I had also.

Is this the beginning of something great or the end? We used to be able to count on the tournament of all tournaments to be the tournament of all tournaments. Now, I’m not so sure, and the truth is it isn’t anyone’s fault.

This event will undoubtedly grow in numbers next year, and the ungodly amounts of money to be won will certainly garner the most attention. After the amazing final table roster we saw at this year’s HORSE event, however, I think even the casual TV viewer is going to realize there’s a prestige to that event the Main can’t match. The sideshow may surpass the primary.

Maybe I’m wrong, but with the combination of poor play and unknown names we’re seeing here, I can’t help but think I’m not. The poker world will obviously go on; it just won’t be the same one we knew any more.

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David Einhorn just won a pot eliminating an opponent when I noticed his sweatshirt was covered in handprints formed of paint. I asked him for an explanation and he informed me his three children and wife had made the shirt for him as a Father’s Day gift. “I have good hands all over me” he said, obviously aware of the double meaning. Guess I’m a little corny, I thought it was a nice little story.

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You’ll see this hand on TV a couple of months from now. Two of the few big names left, Humberto Brenes and david Chiu, got mixed up in a hand where the pre-flop all-in revealed Branes’ aces against Chiu’s AK with the king of clubs. The flop came 5d-6c-8c and the celebration began, but David found the needed turn and river clubs to survive.

Not two minutes later, I heard Humberto yell “COME ON TV!” on another all-in move. His opponent called with pocket twos and brenes showed Kings. This time, the hand held up, giving Humberto back some $250,000.

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Our last possible repeat champion, Joe Hachem, just took his fall. Like Greg Raymer last year, Joe’s run solidifies what a very strong series already confirmed; a level of skill hardly recognized in his previous year’s accomplishments.

Again like Raymer, he got his money in as a massive favorite. His Aces got in preflop against Jacks and A-Q, but the flop contained one of the remaining jacks and the turn and river didn’t change anything.

Hachem’s reign has been a strong one, with a strong WPT season followed by his two final tables here. His legacy, including now household terms like “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oy oy oy!” won’t fade quickly. A tough ending for a true champion of both the World Series and poker as a whole.

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