With the WSOP Main Event winding its way into the money earlier this evening, I've finally been able to breathe, following the last couple of weeks of very serious work. Most of said work was behind the scenes, where you won't see it, but that's fine -- things needed to be done to make other things run as smoothly as possible. At times the WSOP turns into a battle for survival, and when you begin to emerge from it all, it's a very sweet feeling indeed.
I'll be heading in for one more longish shift within the hour, then can look forward to a day or two of decreasing time constraints as I pick my moment to leave. I could stay to the bitter end -- to when the final table's lineup is determined -- but I probably won't. I don't enjoy the circus crush that takes place as the field narrows down to nothing, even if I am part of that circus itself.
The job demands of the last two weeks pretty much left no time for anything else, though I do have plenty of stories to tell. After an 0-6 start on prop bets I'm now up to 3-6, which is still cellar-dwelling but no longer shameful. There are poker stories, media stories, stories on the WSOP and the Rio and on life itself.
But it all has to wait, just a little bit longer.
In the meantime, root on the little dwarf -- errm, that be Iggy -- as he attempts to run deep into the money. I could not help but laugh as I saw the frequent visits from bloggers and media types throughout his three days to date. Other players at his table simply must have wondered who he was, to draw all the attention from folks with badges. Funny stuff. I've got at least three friends left in the field to root for, so we'll see how they do on Day 4.
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