High-Low Split: Dueling Perspectives on 40 Days at the WSOP - Part VII:"The Pen is Mightier Than the Boom Mic"

JOE: The inaugural issue of Card Player College had Joseph Hachem on the cover. I thought it should have been a photo of some sickly hot college co-ed, but for some reason our devilishly handsome editor, Rich Belsky, felt as if it should instead be the winner of the 2005 World Series of Poker's main event. When that first issue came out, Rich was nice enough to send me a copy, since I don't live in a frat house. My friend Galarny came by that day, saw the issue on my coffee table, and remarked, "Oh. That's who won. That ruins it for me." He's of course referring to the fact that he now knows the ending to his favorite upcoming television drama, the World Series of Poker on ESPN. My reply was "No. ESPN ruined it." And boy, for us, did they ever.

SCOTT: I'm not here to make defamatory remarks against anyone, as I consider myself somewhat of a diplomat. Besides, that's Joe's job.

Am I allowed to say that more than a few people on the ESPN WSOP staff were complete jerks? Probably not. Scott and I were reporters for Card Player's live update team. Contrary to popular belief, "live" doesn't mean Jimmy Fallon laughing at himself during a sketch. "Live" means up-to-the-minute reporting. As it actually happens. For example, the 2005 WSOP main event ended on July 16, 2005. CardPlayer.com reported it less than 30 seconds after it happened. ESPN began airing the main event in October - three months later - and, as of the writing of this article, still hasn't aired the final table.

So, in the name of diplomacy, and at the risk of sounding like a "The More You Know" segment on NBC: On planet earth, everyone has a job to do, and everyone believes that his job is more important or more difficult or more stressful than the next guy's job. What some people fail to realize is that, unless you are a professional athlete, a rock star, a Hollywood icon, or Bill Gates, then at the end of the day we're all tired, underpaid, and underappreciated. The guy you cut off because you were running late to work was also running late to work and now he's going to be late to work and his boss, who's as big a dickhead as your boss, is going to ream his ass and make him change the toner.

At the richest sporting event in the history of the world there were a lot of jobs to be done, and everyone thought theirs was the hardest and most important - the Card Player interns included.

The only reason I mention any of this is because ESPN had no problem shoving Card Player staff out of many viewable angles because, while their shots have the opportunity to be carefully edited over the course of the next three months, they were indeed more important and took precedence over those covering the event live. It's akin to Martin Scorsese's cameras blocking the respective views of the 50,000 fans in attendance while filming The Last Waltz. "Who cares about the people to see the show? We're making a movie here people!"

Also, I generally don't use the column as an excuse to make pop culture references - also Joe's job - but seeing as Mr. Stapleton has taken the liberty of mentioning my favorite film director, in a negative light, of course, I figured I'd make an exception.

There was very little animosity between media organizations at the beginning of the WSOP. There really weren't that many of us there, and we were all still in the-feeling-each-other-out-and-testing-our-boundaries stage, so it was all smiles and waves, "Hiya, neighbor." And all that bullshit. But as the days passed, and the main event drew near, media outlets began coming out of the electrical outlets, and a system as harmonious as the Jackson 5 quickly deteriorated to the bedlam of the Five Points - and ESPN was Bill the Butcher and the Native Americans.

This isn't to say that ESPN didn't have some reason for concern. While many of us made our absolute best efforts to avoid the cameras, if for no other reason than to keep them off our cases, fellow Card Player intern Matt Miloszewski, who looks like a baby-faced John Belushi, made no such effort. When one of the producers finally noticed this, he was quickly ushered over to the rail, and we were told he was no longer allowed on the floor in any capacity. This was quickly overturned, however, when it was realized that he had been in so many shots that his jubilant mug was now required as a matter of continuity.

It was this inability to reconcile the media organizations who looked at the WSOP as a poker tournament and those who looked at it as a TV show that led to the Gangs of Las Vegas scenario. And when that started getting out of hand, the only thing to do was change the channel to Survivor: Amazon Room. Unfortunately, the tribal council was made up entirely of the ESPN crew. "Poker-rocks-and-rules-the-nation.com.org.edu.gov, the tribe has spoken." Cue Jeff Probst with his flame put-er out-er thingy as a bunch of frat guys with digicams are asked to stand with the railbirds.

While I'd like to blame ESPN entirely for the cold shoulder tournament staff was instructed to give any media organization that wasn't them, I would have to agree with Scott when I say that such "media" organizations as Greg "FBT" Mueller, who cruised the floor without so much as a pen or a stack of post it notes, are the ones who should have been on the business end of Tweedledee's heat-seeking boom mic.

The Card Player interns managed to outwit, outlast, outplay them, not due to our particularly stellar conduct, but more likely due to the long leash provided us, through our "special relationship with Harrah's," a phrase that got me in trouble with my girlfriend more than once in my six weeks away. "Special relationship? What? Who's Hannah?"

"Harrah's, honey. It's a corporation."

"Whatever, it better not be a girl."

"Didn't you hear me? I said: It - is - a - corporation."

"It better not be a girl."

"OK."

Now, while a few people working for the ESPN staff were total a-holes, there were some who were pretty decent as well. One producer specifically, Matt, was actually quite cooperative and made many attempts to share resources and viewing space, so that all could do their respective jobs.

After measures were put in place to keep only the serious media organizations inside the velvet ropes, everyone buried the hatchet, and began to interact in a civilized manner. None of us were in love, but at least we weren't cutting each other off on the way to the office. Of course, there was one detractor. One of the ESPN crew, a boom mic operator we'll call "Hypothyroid Mr. Potato Head," you know, he's the guy in the movie who is so untrusting that when the leader of the crew says, "We're cool with them, now, man. Don't sweat it," just keeps saying, "I don't trust 'em, Johnny. I just don't trust 'em," and then ends up shooting someone in the head and reigniting a gang war.

I can't even begin to tell you how much it irritates me to have someone put his hands on me, such as, needless to say, the numerous instances in which I was literally shoved out of the way by a slightly more hairy Magilla Gorilla operating a boom mic. Didn't we all stop pushing people way back in, like, the seventh grade? If this wasn't enough, the guy wore sandals. Unless you're an outdoorsman, a hippie, or a member of the Hare Krishna, wearing sandals automatically means an increase of 50 percent in the Asshole Factor.

Or, if the pop culture references are getting old: He's like an o-ring on a shuttle launch. Such as tiny piece of the equation, but if he malfunctions, boom. I can't tell you how many times I heard this, "If Hypothyroid Mr. Potato Head hits me with that boom mic one more time … " He clearly just didn't get the memo, or more likely, couldn't read it.

However, even when we were able to get over not liking ESPN for the overt reasons, we started finding out about the covert reasons. It should be noted, although it doesn't pertain to poker, that women have an innate ability to sense when a man is in a relationship. It's like in school, when you used to walk into the classroom and you could just tell the second you walked in that it was going to be movie day. Even before you saw the strapped down monitor and the VCR chained to the A/V cart you could just taste it. "There is a television on in this room." Well, the second that the average-to-marginally-above-average-looking ESPN associate producer girls set foot in the Amazon room, they could instantly sense the hum of Scott Huff's "relationship-o-meter." As a result of this, they would approach and solicit him constantly, and we were able to find out a great deal of information about ESPN's cushy "perks."

A lot of the gripes we had during the WSOP were legitimate. In this case, jealousy is a bitch. And that's all. After a long day of filming, the ESPN crew talked about heading back to their suites in either the Rio or Bellagio, I think it was the Rio. In the meantime, we were stuck covering finales of dying games being contested by dying players, and what did we have to look forward to? Four guys, two beds, a couch, and a closet - I think we might have a sitcom on our hands. The closest thing we had to the Jacuzzi suite was us saying to the ESPN associate producers, "You guys have Jacuzzis? Sweet."

It's just a matter of fact that Hollywood will always win out over legitimate journalism. If breaking news were to happen in the heartland of America, involving a farmer who unwittingly foiled a terrorist plot, A-Team Style, by dressing up his tractor to make it look like a tank, and the first two reporters on the scene were James Woodward and Jerry Springer - who do you think would get the first interview? Compared to Card Player, ESPN is Hollywood. I can't even tell you how many times I would be covering a final table and, as the players were unbagging their chips from the night before, they would eventually notice that they weren't being placed up on the main stage. Keep in mind that these nine players were usually all guaranteed somewhere between $25,000 and $500,000, but the looks on their faces were not ones that would say "I can't wait to tell my boss to fuck off tomorrow." They were, in fact, dejected, and many of them would ask with the wide eyes of a child, "TV table?" Even the big-name pros, people who we only know as being television stars, would oftentimes ask the same question, and oddly enough, they all seemed just as disappointed.

Hollywood does win. It has been such a blessing and curse for poker that I'm still trying to figure out where I stand. On the one hand, you have record fields and prize pools, and new players surfacing every day to donk off their hard-earned money. On the other hand, you have the "all in and call" rule put in place at the WSOP, wherein dealers were required to shout "all in and call" whenever two players or more were all in and about to flip their cards up. After all, that's all poker is, right? People pushing all in with pocket queens against ace-king. Wrong. Think of any other sporting or gaming event on earth. Do you want to see only the home runs in a baseball game? The buzzer-beaters in hoops? The hackweight takeouts in curling? No, the sport of any sport is in the minutiae: stolen bases, a solid switch on defense, sweeping (curling again), or a value bet. In the name of diplomacy, I admit the all in sells. We were there for the minutiae. Plus, none of this would have mattered all that much to me if Hypothyroid Mr. Potato Head would've just stopped cracking me on the skull with the fucking boom mic.

In the end, I think Card Player ended up with the moral victory. One of our bosses - we'll call him Justin - excels at many things, and two of them are most definitely being hard and getting in people's faces. He's that friend you can always have a heart-to-heart with, and that usually manifests itself in drinking and punching you in the upper arm. However, when it comes time for shit to hit the fan, he becomes more aggressive than Layne Flack on steroids. That's when you're glad the guy is on your side. So when Justin heard that we were no longer allowed our exclusive access, he just stood up, and power-walked out onto the floor with his arms puffed out to the sides as if he were carrying two watermelons, and ready to get in someone's face. I don't know whose face he got in, or how he has the strength to carry around those two invisible watermelons everywhere he goes, but we got our access back - tout d'suite.

We were the Bad News Bears, the Mighty Ducks, the Hoosiers - the lovable underdogs who got the job done, even when the evil bad men tried to strip us of our pride, our dignity, and our press passes.

I guess you could say that Card Player won the battle. We got our access back and had the first and best coverage of the entire WSOP. Unfortunately, the glitz and glamour of Hollywood still won the war. More Americans will learn of Hachem's victory through the magic of television than the efficiency of the written word. But that's life. I myself took home a sense of satisfaction knowing we were the New York Times and they were Entertainment Tonight. Sure more people get their information from the latter, but isn't it so much better to be able to look down your noses at people as the former?

It should be known that Joe's last statement is a total lie. This is totally true: Before leaving Las Vegas, he handed his business card to every ESPN staffer he could find, desperately begging for a job for next year.