I check the clock and can’t believe what time it is.
It all started innocently enough. After watching the Nov. 8 Winnipeg Jets game, I flipped over to a non-Jets specific sports channel and saw they were broadcasting the World Series of Texas Hold’em Poker.
Texas hold’em poker on television is nothing new — since the “poker boom” phenomenon of 2003 through 2006, late night television has been inundated with many different poker shows. The World Series of Poker has always been the main attraction, with a record 8,773 players ponying up the US$10,000 entry fee for the 2006 World Series event.
Most televised poker games use a type of “pocket cam” that allows the television audience to see each player’s hand. This year, the broadcasters of the event decided to take the “sport” into new, daring territory by broadcasting the final table live — with a 15-minute delay to prevent any foul play. The final round would not use the pocket cams, leaving the commentators to speculate on what hand each player might have.
This led to some very interesting television for about the first hour and a half.
But after leaving the game on in the background as I went about my business on my laptop for several hours, I finally looked up and realized, “Hey, this is still on? It’s one in the morning!”
Five hours since the final table began, at 9 p.m. eastern time, the two remaining contenders (eventual champion Pius Heinz from Germany, and runner-up Martin Staszko of the Czech Republic) were still battling for the $8.7 million dollar purse, locked in a seemingly never ending, slow-burning, back and forth stare down. Both players had a contingent of fans, who had managed to sit through seemingly endless, live, heads-up poker. From the spontaneous chants and rally cries, it appeared that surprisingly few of the people in the studio audience had fallen asleep.
I suppose it’s Vegas, after all.
Maybe if there had some witty banter being thrown back and forth between the two competitors, some excitement after winning a big hand, or some sign of life beyond the click-clack of shuffling chips, it would have been worth my time to watch this thing through to the end.
And yet, I couldn’t just go to bed. I had become emotionally invested in this card marathon. I needed to see it through to the bitter end.
Not because I cared who won — I certainly did not.
For those of you reading this who find yourself innocently flipping through the channels next year and happen to stumble across the World Series of Poker and think, “Hmm, maybe I’ll see how this goes for a bit!”:
Don’t do it. It’s a trap.
As I write this, I’m still waiting. I want to go to sleep, but I cannot. I must suffer through this alone so that I may warn the masses.
