The WPT Invitational - Part 1

I make it to Commerce Casino - on time and with plenty of sleep - ready to sweat the rails as Wil takes on a heavy mixture of soft money and hardened pros in the WPT Invitational. After getting together the previous day to talk strategy and playing sytles, Wil seems more confident to play - something much more important than remembering any advice I might give him.

I walk past the main room of degenerate gamblers that are here on a Wednesday afternoon and start to head towards the grand staircase leading up to the tournament hall. The click-clicking of chips is filling my ears and I think god I left my debit card at home, as part of my body aches to sit down at a table. But I'm not here to play, I'm here to offer support.

The obstacle in my way, however, is a rope line around the stairs in front of a 300 pound security guard. I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

"Invitational is upstairs, right?"
"Yes, but it's invite only, can't let you in."

Shit. The tourney's just started and there's no way they're gonna go let me up to find Wil and get a pass. Like the eternal exchange from Wayne's World, "Hey, my girlfriend is in there!"

"Yeah, a lot of guys' girlfriends are in there."

I sit down near the bottom of the stairs and call Wil to leave a message, letting him know I'm here but stuck. I make the decision to stick around until Wil's first break, at which point I'll know whether I'm getting in or not.

David Pham keeps walking by, and it's distracting as all hell. And then James Woods crosses my view, chatting on a cell phone. I start to wonder who's upstairs when John Juanda goes past the ropes.

"John, you out already?"
"Yep." He heads out through the high-limit area, though I can't tell where he's going. Probably to find soft money.

A little bit later Andy Bloch comes forward, and the security guard won't let him upstairs because he doesn't have a badge. I want to step forward and say "Dude, do you know who this guy is?" but figure it won't be helpful. After a minute or two, Andy digs out a badge and starts to head up. I try to stop him for a second to introduce myself (we'd traded a set of emails back and forth beforehand) but he's running late for the tourney and doesn't have time to say more than hello and "Oh yeah, I remember." He takes off up the stairs. I concede defeat and continue my wait.

It strethces on, and I start to think about bailing. I have tons of work to do, and I feel like a fanboy waiting outside the backstage door to get a glimpse of the band. I'm "That Guy". Ewwww. I don't wanna be that guy. But it's too late... I might as well embrace it.

Finally, a phone call from Wil. He's heading downstairs, and his chipstack is healthy. When we meet up, he talks about pushing Gus Hansen off a couple pots and who he's sitting with.... mostly celebrities. He heads back upstairs and 5 minutes later, comes back with a badge for me. Gentlemen, we have scored.

I have to paint out this scene for you... the security guard opens the rope line for you, and you walk up a large decadent staircase, past marble columns and wall mural paintings. You turn the corner and make the past few steps up, and start to see people milling about. The last few feet finally reveal people conversing and hob-nobbing, and you start to realize that you recognize *everyone*. Celebrities, poker professionals, personalities... you can't walk 5 feet without seeing someone you've idolized or appreciated from afar. You step through the doors into the tournament room, where you're allowed to walk amongst the giants of the gambling world and act for just one day like you kinda sorta deserve to be there. And nobody questions who you are or sneers at your somewhat dubious manner of earning your place... they're just happy you're having a good time.

I do believe that if someone had told me I was dead and had gone to heaven, I would have believed them.

I mean, Jesus is right over there.

(To be continued... Part 2! )

-PokerGeek