a common thing. Once in a while, when this overlapping occurs, I get my
big chance. This big chance is to do the write-up of the final table of a
major tournament. Actually, the only reason I get these occasional gigs
is that Max Shapiro has cornered the market on these write-ups. He’s
the “star.” Everybody wants him. Since Max can’t be in two places at the
same time, an understudy is needed. Max usually asks me — not
because he likes me, but, I think, because he knows he is in no jeopardy
of losing his job when he returns.
The first time I was asked, I thought it would be a piece of cake. It
looked like a fun job, plus I’d actually get paid. I thought I could do a
good job because I had a lot of experience as a player at final tables,
and I have been writing columns for the last several years.
Needless to say, if it had been the piece of cake I thought and an easy
job, I probably would not be writing this column.
Before I get into some of the pitfalls of doing these write-ups, I want to
mention some of the people who have done write-ups over the years.
The main people now are Max Shapiro, Andy Glazer, Mike Paulle, and
Debbie Burkhead, and some of the names from the past were Lynne
Loomis, Don Larrimore, Byron Liggett, and Rex Jones.
Having given credit to all those who have given us the accounts of final
tables over the years, I thought I might share some of the things those
who do the write-ups go through.
First of all, there is the matter of the hours. Although Los Angeles-area
casinos have experimented with afternoon starting times, 7 p.m. or so is
now the norm. Most everyone I talk to wishes the tournaments started
much earlier, but that is up to the powers that be. Because of this
starting time, final tables might not get under way until anywhere from 2
a.m. to 5 a.m., and then last several hours more. So, at an hour when
normal people are getting out of bed, the final-table writer may just be
getting started. He has to cover all of the action, which can last three to
five hours, and then go to an office and try to decipher his notes. So, a
couple of more hours are needed after the last card has been dealt in
order to do a reasonably coherent write-up.
In order to give an accurate account of what happens at a final table,
the writer must be close to the action. Now, anyone who has ever done
a write-up learns first and foremost not to get so close to the action that
the players think he can see their hands. The problem arises when the
writer sees an important or possible eliminating hand come up. He then
has to move close enough to the action to describe what is going on.
Most players understand that it’s his job to record when someone wins
a big, important hand, or someone gets knocked out of the tournament.
Unfortunately, there are those few who do not want the writer to stand
behind them at any time. I asked Max how he handles those situations. ”
It depends,” he said. ”If it’s someone who tips me after he cashes in, I
respect the gentleman’s right to privacy and move away from him. If it’s
someone I know will stiff me, I tell him where to go.” Not having Max’s
knack for diplomacy, on those few occasions when I have been asked to
move, I simply have complied and found someone less paranoid to stand
behind.
Fortunately, this problem disappears as players become eliminated, and
by the time there are six or seven players, it is much easier to get close
to the action and not be directly behind anyone.
Another problem that frequently occurs is that when someone goes all in
with cards to come, the dealer burns and turns too fast. When someone
goes all in, the writer gets his first glimpse of the hands. He then must
record the players’ hands, and then the flop, the turn, and the river.
With a lot of money at stake, most dealers will usually pause a couple of
beats between cards to allow the all-in players to maybe say a little
prayer or call for a special card. And sometimes the tournament director
will call out the cards and signal the dealer when to deal the next street.
But all too often a dealer will burn-turn, burn-turn, burn-turn in a blur. He
acts as if he is dealing a live game, in which the more hands he gets out,
the more tips he makes. Then, he’ll scoop up all the cards before the
writer is even close to recording them. It is not uncommon to have to
remind some dealers during the course of a final table to please slow
down.
When it comes to following and recording hands, hold’em is relatively
easy, because each player has only two cards. Omaha eight-or-better
gets more complicated, because players have four cards, and everyone
has to figure out who is high and who is low. Stud, on the other hand,
with seven cards for each player, can be a nightmare, especially when
there are several players in a pot, all turning up their hands at the same
time. The writer has only a few seconds to record the hands, try to
figure out what the downcards were that the players started with, and,
if it’s high-low, sort that out, too.
To give readers a sense of how the final table is shaping up, a writer will
jot down approximate chip counts from time to time. That’s not hard to
do if all the players cooperate and keep their stacks in neat, 20-chip
piles. Unfortunately, lots of players stack their checks haphazardly in
random amounts, so it’s anybody’s guess how much they have.
Then, does the writer just record the bets, the hands, and the outcome,
or does he go a step further and try to analyze what a player was
thinking and doing, and why, and maybe even critique his play? Some of
the better writers get into that, but I’m satisfied if I can just get the
hands correct.
When a tournament ends, the writer interview’s the winning player for a
biography. Some players will talk their heads off and expound on every
answer they give. Then, there’s the other extreme, the players who can’
t be bothered and say, “Just write whatever you want.”
Finally, when the writer sits down to write, he might have several
thousand words of notes, but he is restricted to maybe 600 or 700
words to fit on the write-up sheet. He then must get into editing and
deciding what to leave in and take out. This can be a lot harder than just
putting a bunch of words on paper. Thank God, that’s not a problem
when writing a column for Card Player, because they have the best
editor in the business, Steve Radulovich. Of course, I’m not Steve, so it’s
a long, laborious job for me.
Hopefully you get the gist of just a few of the hazards I’ve encountered
while doing guest writing jobs. I think I’ll just remain Max’s understudy.
Regular tournament writing is no way to make a living — believe me!
For what it’s worth …
