THE END OF A LINE

Does your pinky ever go crazy when you’re typing, shuddering uncontrollably as you rest your hand on the keypad? No? Is it just me? Maybe it’s the booze…

Or perhaps it’s just a small part of the surreal world that my hotel room has become within the last few hours. Whilst I’m doing my utmost to stay awake until the plane journey home, my fellow updater has given up all hope of that plan and collapsed on the bathroom floor in a drunken stupor.

As I departed for the Orleans with Aaron and co, the last words I said to Jan Heitman were “Just make sure she doesn’t come home drunk”. Well, I guess the language barrier popped up at just the wrong time, or maybe not as fellow German, George Danzer (who has, incidentally, made it through to Day 3), dropped her off and then scarpered like a scolded dog.

Ah well, I’m sure in two hours time when I cruelly but unavoidably deliver her that initial hangover headache, she’ll be savvy enough to throw her carcass onto a plane back to England. One can only hope… a black coffee may be just the ticket.

But this blog entry isn’t just about our drunken antics (I certainly endured mine the night before last), it’s about the end of a line, and the climaxing of our Vegas trip.

I’ve had a quite splendid stay here and, if it wasn’t for those certain people awaiting my return, I’d have no qualms in staying on. In fact, now that today has arrived, I’m rather disappointed to be departing. Folk always say that you get sick of Vegas after a while, but not this Beagle, I could spend months here.

The four Day Ones that Jen and I worked on were, alongside Monte Carlo, the most gruelling and testing updates we have encountered thus far. Imagine playing for four days straight, bagging up the chips, trundling off to bed, waking up and heading straight back out. Sound tiring? Well try adding a notepad, a three person thick row of spectators, endless runs back and forth to the media room, and a squillion bad beat stories and you start to get an idea of the exhausting task that lay ahead.

But, as Day 2 approached and we took our much needed time off, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat left out. I ached to be back inbetween the tables, listening to the banter, watching the pro’s at work, and witnessing all the ups and downs of Main Event poker. I wanted a piece of the action, even if it was only as a voyeur.

It is for this reason that following this year’s World Series from the comfort of my home will be a rather less satisfying experience. If there’s something I’ve learnt from this trip, it’s that you really can’t beat being at Poker’s biggest Event in person, seeing things with your own two eyes. As the advert says ‘Watch history fold and unfold’.

Every time I update, I always fail to evade that disheartening feeling of “I wish I was playing”. Normally, I can temporarily erase it from my mind for long enough to get through the weekend without it getting me down, but this week has been especially hard.

Over 8000 players from around the World, all battling it out for 12 million bucks, praying that this is their chance, their time, their shot at the big time. In a nutshell, living the dream – a dream that I want to be a part of.

But watching ‘history fold and unfold’ is the next best thing, I have no complaints. What it has triggered though is a will to play more live Events. Whether it’s Luton or Deauville, Walsall or Paris, I want to be there, not just in a voyeuristic form, but as a player. I feel I am capable and have the potential to do well in these comps, but unless I play, I’ll never know…