It's a wedding-heavy summer for me, so I could only spend about a week in Vegas. The good news about spending such a short duration is that I avoided the burn-out that effects so many during the WSOP. (See Scott Fischman's posts if you need any evidence of the wear of these tournaments.) The sad part is that I miss some excellent side action. I also lament that I'll miss some of the conventions that the Rio co-mingles with poker.
During the past two years, other convention rooms were crowded with over-sexualized prepubescents who were competing in some sort of dance competition. I dubbed it the "Little Miss Whore" contest. Others came up with similarly pithy names. There were thousands of jokes, but the situation was really unfunny. It was disgusting to see these kids, whose mothers had made them up to look like low-rent hookers, walking around the hallways that were crowded with the most unsavory aspects of the poker crowd. Last year, I saw Devilfish chatting up some 14-year-old and I wanted to vomit.
But not all the conventions offer such troubling mixes. Last year, the 2006 WSOP shared convention space with the Western Roofer's Association. I don't know much about roofing (I'm a life-long city dweller and renter). Still, I very much wanted to sneak my way into a seminar with the title "What Ever Happened to the 3-Tabbed Single?" Now I'll never know.
This year, like last, a portion of the WSOP coincided with IDEX, otherwise known as the Creepy Doll Convention. This is a trade show for people who make disturbingly lifelike baby dolls. On my last day in Vegas, I walked through the hallway with fellow poker writer Dan Michalski. The creepy doll show floor was open, and we couldn't resist.
We went up to the entrance, where a sweet woman in her sixties told us that we really couldn't enter without IDEX badges. Dan noted that we both held press badges, and that had to count for something.
She replied, "Well, there's a doll back there with a twelve-inch penis. You really should see it."
We nodded. Of course we needed to see it. She motioned us to go ahead, and there we entered what will be the fodder for decades of nightmares.
I won't try to describe the dolls. Instead, I'll leave you with Dan's photos, which do a great job of capturing the horror. I will note that the Dirk Diggler of the doll world was fairly small--about a foot high. Only when enlarged to life-size scale would his member be the size she quoted. (view picture - warning: NSFW)


Keith Lehr, he said. He told me that he was a pot-limit hold 'em specialist who lived in Shreveport and played the biggest games in Louisiana and Dallas. He had won a WSOP bracelet in pot-limit hold 'em.
Everyone knows that luck plays a huge role in tournament poker, with races and the like often determining the distribution of huge sums of money. But the role of luck neither starts nor ends with the deck of cards. One of the more significant elements of chance is determined by the Rio’s computers when they give out seat assignments.
As I surveyed the room, I came to think that no one in the room regretted her draw more than Jennifer Harman. Harman was in the 1 seat of table 37. Seat 2, Phil Laak. Seat 3, Hoyt Corkins.
Rafe Furst had been telling me why I really needed to play in the $1,500 Pot Limit Omaha-8 event that started yesterday, and his logic seemed unimpeachable. No one really plays the game, he said, so the field was bound to be unbelievably weak. Together we imagined scores of players unable to decipher their actual holdings, confusing bottom pair for nut low or drawing for all their chips with second- or third-bests. With a field like that, the value would be terrific. So I signed up and took my seat.
For the last few hours, I parked myself at the rail between tables 17 and 19 in the Amazon Room. I assigned myself the task of railbirding (yes, I just made up that word) the man who has won more money in poker than any other: Chip Reese. I’d heard from many people that Chip isn’t a flashy player. He’s quiet and steady and all but immune from tilt. Howard Lederer once commented that Reese makes the decisions his opponents would rather not see every single time. When he said this, Howard smiled in a way that spoke to both his respect for Chip and the exasperation that Reese has caused him over the years.
As much as I enjoy no-limit, I have to admit that it’s really not a game that involves a whole lot of subtlety. Many of the game’s best players come to the table with a single tool—a sledgehammer. They bash and pound their opponents, forcing strings of bad folds and the occasional disastrous call. Watch David Williams or John Pham play a no-limit tournament some time. It’s impressive, but it ain’t pretty. 



















