Menendez to Inroduce Senate Bill Similar to Barney Frank's

US Senator Robert Menendez (D-NJ), pictured right, plans to introduce a bill similar to the bill Barney Frank (D-MA) introduced in the House of Representatives. Both houses working on Internet gambling legislation could speed up the process of overturning the Unlawful Internet Gambling Enforcement Act (UIGEA).

Senator Menendez is looking forward to overturn UIGEA so that the online gaming industry would be regulated. His goal is the same as Barney Frank’s, but a two pronged attack offers the promise of speeding up passage.

We’ll see … it’s a long way from the introduction of a bill until it becomes law. But time is on our side, and not on the side of opponents of this legislation. Support for online gaming and the tax revenue it promises to generate, continues to grow. Although I’m hopeful, I’m not ready to start counting my chickens just yet. They need some time to hatch.

ESPN's 2009 Coverage of the WSOP

If you’ve seen just about enough of Peter Eastgate as you care to watch and are wondering when ESPN will begin airing 2009 coverage, you’re in luck. This year’s programming starts July 28, when ESPN airs the $40,000 buy-in Fortieth Anniversary tournament between 8 p.m. and 10 p.m. Eastern Time.

ESPN shows the WSOP Champions Cup Invitational event on August 4, and on August 11, the Ante Up For Africa Charity tournament is scheduled.

The main event begins August 18 and runs through November 10, when the main event is aired in near real time, between 9 p.m. and 11:30 p.m.

For those of you wondering when other showcase events, such as the $50,000 buy-in HORSE event will air, don’t waste your time worrying. They won’t be aired. You get four events and four only this year: the Special 40 Anniversary Tournament, WSOP Champions Cup Invitational, Ante Up For Africa Charity, and the main event.

Here’s the complete schedule:

July 28—8-10 p.m., WSOP $40,000 Special Anniversary Tournament

August 4—8-10 p.m., WSOP Champions Cup Invitational

August 11—8-10 p.m., Ante Up For Africa Charity

Main event coverage

August 18 to Sept. 22 8-10 p.m., WSOP main event episodes 7-18

September 29 8-11 p.m., WSOP main event episodes 19-21

October 6 10-11 p.m., WSOP main event episode 22

October 13 to November 3—9-11 p.m., WSOP main event shows 23-30

November 10—9-11:30 p.m., WSOP main event final table

Poker in Russia? Nyet!

You won’t be playing poker in Moscow, or most anywhere else in Russia in the near future. The new Russian ban on gambling came into effect this month. Many Russian operators were planning to make themselves over into poker clubs under a Russian law that recognized poker as a sport rather than a game of chance.

Will the Russian government allow this legal loophole to exist? An estimated 400,000 jobs are at stake.

New Russian gambling laws permit casinos to operate only in four remote regions of Russia, each of which is at least 600 miles from Moscow.

Moscow will really feel the pain. They had 524 casinos and gaming halls before the law took effect.

Three-Fourths Healed (No Poker Content)

The fingernail on my left ring finger is three-fourths grown back. I lost it—all of it—and almost lost my entire finger in a bicycling accident March 8.

I punctured my rear tire. I can recall the bike wobbling, and then I started going down. I was going very slowly at the time. A group of us just started out on a group ride early Sunday morning. I’ve fallen before. Everyone who rides has fallen before and will fall again. It’s just a matter when, and how bad it is.

Most falls aren’t much. A little road rash, some cuts and bruises and that’s it. But this one was different. When I fell my handlebar landed on my left ring finger with the weight of my body holding the bar.

I remember the beginning of the fall, but not the fall itself. Then I recall shouting, “I’m down. Rider down,” to alert riders in front of me.

There was blood all over, and I felt for a moment that I might lose my finger. Another rider helped me wrap my finger in his bandana. We called 911. They were there in a few minutes and took me to Eisenhower Hospital’s emergency room, less than two miles away.

I didn’t have to wait. When the paramedics bring you in, you get priority over walk-ins and drive-ins. One of my friends took my bike back to the gym where we met to begin our ride, and stuck it in the spinning room for safe keeping.

I called my wife who drove down to the ER and got there just as the doctor was looking at my finger. The ER doc and I were talking about bicycles.

Lucky for me he was a cyclist himself and understood why the first question out of my mouth was, “When can I get back on the bike?” That’s when Deirdre walked in, saying to the ER doc, “Are you sure you should be treating him? You sound as crazy as he does.”

I took 14 stitches, and because one of them went right into the nail bed, he told me he’d have to extract the nail. He gave me a nerve block that removed all feeling from my hand. Then he extracted the nail. I couldn’t watch. Deirdre scrutinized the whole thing.

After he stitched me up, they bandaged me and put an aluminum splint around my finger, and told me to go to my doctor for follow up wound care in about a week.

On March 17—St. Patrick’s Day for those who care, and because my wife was born in Ireland, this household cares a lot—I took my first ride in 10 days. When you get beyond the Guinness, St. Patrick’s Day symbolizes springtime and new beginnings, and I took that as a good omen for getting back on my bike again. Going down hill was difficult because my left hand had a tough time putting pressure on the brake lever, but that got better in time.

I wore that aluminum splint over a bandage for months, until I began riding with just a band aid over the area where the nail was growing back.

They told me it would take about five to six months for the nail to grow back, so it seems to be right on schedule.

I still have numbness in the finger, and it tingles when I exert pressure on the tip of the finger, and tingles when I type “2,” “w,” “s,” and “x” on my keyboard.

I’ve picked up my guitar recently, but it’s tough to form chords with that finger, so I’m going to have to work on it. Perhaps the tingling and numbness goes away with time. I’m not sure. But at least I feel three-quarters healed. I’ve ridden more than 2,800 miles since the accident and tomorrow’s ride will put me over the 2,900 mark. That may sound like a lot of miles on a bike, but some people do a lot more than that. And I’m not talking pros either. Regular people like you and me ride a lot more than I do.

Earlier this spring I was riding when I saw a group of riders up ahead. Thinking I would ride with them a bit, I caught up and integrated myself into their peloton. They told me they were riding a supported tour across the United States. They left from Huntington Beach and would wind up in North Carolina. They were followed by a van with all their gear, spare wheels, food, water, jackets, and a mechanic. Their itinerary averaged 100 miles a day, from California to the Atlantic Ocean, and even riding west-to-east, which puts the wind at your back most of the time, you still have to deal with high mountains, all sorts of unpredictable weather and other unknowns.

I turned south after about 10 miles and continued on my ride while they headed east. When I got home that nice spring day was beginning to get hot. I did 40 miles and felt knackered. They still had 60 to go to complete their day.

I thought about their journey. There are oodles of supported tours like this, and if Pacific to Atlantic seems too far, there are supported rides from Oregon to San Diego, and all up and down the Eastern seaboard.

It’s very appealing to carry the idea of just dropping everything to ride across the country in 30 days. No computer and no poker for 30 days. Just the road, the repetition, the weather, and the other riders—precisely the kind of cocoon I could immerse myself in given half a chance. Maybe someday.

National Poker Week in Washington, DC

OK, OK … I get the message, and I apologize. I know I haven’t posted here since July 9 and I’ll try to do better in the future.

Meanwhile, this is National Poker Week, an event cooked up by the Poker Players Alliance (PPA)—poker’s million member grassroots advocacy group. More than 50 representatives of the PPA, including 33 state directors, traveled to Washington, D.C. to tell lawmakers that poker is not a crime, and ask them to support licensing and regulation legislation that protects online poker—a game played by more than 10 million Americans.

“From the more than 100 meetings with members and staff to the charity tournament that raised $35,000 for our wounded warriors, I’d say National Poker Week was a rousing success,” PPA chairman and former senator Alfonse D’Amato said. “Congress is preparing for hearings this fall on the licensing and regulation of the game we love, so I urge all PPA members to continue this activism and enthusiasm so our elected officials can take their marching orders and fight to protect our game.”

D’Amato kicked off National Poker Week with an appearance on the Howard Stern Show, where he signed Howard up as a member of the PPA.

Professional poker player Andy Bloch, who participated in numerous meetings with members of Congress and their staff, said “every single meeting and every method of communication counts. Even if you’re cynical about the political process, you’ll be encouraged to know that these members, whether they agree yet or not, are listening to our arguments and are truly surprised to know just how popular poker is in their hometowns. I truly feel we are winning on this issue, and the time is ripe for pro-poker legislation to pass into law.”

PPA also hosted a charity poker tournament and presented a $25,000 check to the USO-Metro benefiting the Malone House at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Wounded servicemen and women played alongside poker pros, PPA’s State Directors, members of Congress, and their staff, with all $10,000 of the re-buys going “all-in” to the USO.

Earlier in the week, PPA pulled together online security experts for a Congressional staff briefing on how Internet poker can be effectively regulated in the United States. The panelists included Dr. Parry Aftab, Executive Director of Wired Safety, Stuart Dross, Vice President of Cigital, and Paul Mathews, former executive with International Game Technology. The panelists corrected many of the misperceptions of online poker and discussed with congressional staff the effective and available solutions to properly regulate online games.

A lot of effort has gone into this and other PPA events and I hope they are on the right track. As much as I like poker, and as strongly as I believe that Congress has no right to tell us what we can do with our money in the privacy of our own homes, as long as we’re not harming others by our actions, my gut feeling is that the issue of online poker just doesn’t register very high on the average congressional radar screen, what with the economy, war, President Obama’s weekly lecturing on his health care campaign, and whatever else pops up as the issue de jour.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m 100 percent behind the PPA in their efforts, and I believe they are constitutionally, morally, and ethically on the right side of this issue, it’s going to be a long, hard pull to get it over the hurdles required to properly regulate online poker. I hope they get there, but I’m afraid it might be later rather than sooner.
I hope you can help prove me wrong: For more information and to contact members of Congress, please visit http://www.nationalpokerweek.com/

Phil Hellmuth Channels Julius Caesar for his Grand Entrance to the WSOP's Main Event

"Kiss my ring!" said Phil Hellmuth, dressed as Julius Caesar for his arrival at the WSOP’s main event. He was escorted by a dozen models dressed as female gladiators and heralded by trumpeters.

He arrived as expected, two hours late, to make his entrance into the Rio’s Amazon Room. "When you dress as Caesar you actually feel more powerful," Hellmuth told The Associated Press.

It’s theater. It’s publicity—and no one does it better than Phil. But Julius Caesar? Hellmuth looked more like he was decked out for an appearance at the White Party than the WSOP. Hail Caesar … errrrr, Phil? Call me silly, but I’ll pass on that opportunity!

Suffering (Steve Nissman, RIP)

In the canyon you can hear the cars and trucks coming up behind you a long way away. But there are few of them today. It’s July 6 and I’m riding up Thousand Palms Canyon. I’m in the middle of nowhere—no houses, stores, or people—though I’m only about 10 miles away from home right now.

Once I head up Washington Street and pass Sun City, civilization seems to stop abruptly. Washington begins climbing after Sun City and turns west. After cresting a hill there’s a right turn that takes me due north, right up Thousand Palms Canyon about six steep miles to Dillon Road.

I’m climbing … and fighting a headwind to boot. The morning is still early—it’s not yet 8 a.m. but out here in the desert it gets very hot very early, and the temperature is already edging north of ninety and it’s not going to get any cooler. I have to be careful to dose my water. There’s no place to refill anywhere near here, and won’t be for about 20 more miles.

The hill ramps up a bit right before a trailhead where hikers park and head off into smaller, even more remote canyons. The trailhead and a small visitor’s is center about half way up to the top. The sweat is running down my forehead and into my eyes. The salt stings. So I take off my sunglasses, stick them in my teeth, and use the soft, back part of my glove to wipe the sweat off. Then I pour some of my water down my back to cool me off and take a drink.

Just beyond the trailhead about four motorcycles pass me as they roar up the grade. I’m not making much speed into the hill and headwind and at the rate I’m going, I expect to spend about 45 minutes on the climb.

The last part is frustrating. I can see utility poles in the distance and I know it’s Dillon Road, the top of the climb. But the more I pedal, the more the poles seem to recede in the distance. Finally I reach the top. I can stop here and catch my breath, but I don’t. Instead, I take one look back to the west, then turn right and head east on Dillon Road. I remember riding up here in February when it was cold. When I glanced westward then, all the westward mountains were covered with snow. Now they’re dry and brown.

Dillon Road rises from it’s juncture at Thousand Palms Canyon. So I’m pedaling up hill for about another half mile or so, but things are easier now. The headwind that was hitting me at an angle going up the canyon now hits me at an angle from the rear, helping me up the hill.

I’m heading east, through an unincorporated area of Riverside County called Indio Hills. There’s really nothing much here, and even if there is a convenience store, I know it won’t be open at this early hour on Sunday morning. So I pedal on.

Once I crest the hill it’s all rollers for the next few miles, and the downhill speed is usually enough to propel me up the next uphill section. I see a couple of cyclists coming in the other direction. We wave but don’t stop. We’re both going somewhere and trying to make time before the day gets too hot.

A few miles later I start a long descent. Now I’m heading south toward the city of Indio, and the wind is at my back. I’m in the big chain ring and on top of my gears. I’m doing about 45 miles per hour, which is a lot considering the condition of the road. It’s old, has it’s share of bumps and washed out sections, and I’m quite happy with the speed I’m making. If I really pushed it, if I got down into the drops and concentrated on turning my biggest gear as fast as I could, I might be able to get up to fifty, but I still had a long way to go and there was no sense in draining all my energy way up here.

After a few miles at speed, I hit a flat section and slow down. I’m looking for a small turn off for Avenue 44, at this point it’s a two lane, old, country road but it will eventually take me home. A few guys riding in a pace line pass me and I jump on the back of their line, happy for the extra speed I’ll gain by drafting behind them. They tow me along for about half a mile when I turn off. I yell “Thank you” and head west. After about half a mile, Avenue 44 widens out and is topped with new pavement. This is an area of all new homes—gated communities, for the most part—that are pretty much deserted because most were built just as the economy took its tumble.

I ride out here a lot. The roads are terrific. Traffic is thankfully absent, and it’s a strange, surreal feeling pedaling through modern ghost towns, all nice and neat and new and even striped with bike lanes.

I cut through Terra Lago, a large golf community built around a man-made lake. As usual, it seems deserted. From there I work my way north and west to a shopping center that has a Fresh and Easy that I know will be open. It is. I go inside and buy two bottles of water. I sit outside and drink one while I suck down a gel to give me some more energy. Then I pour the other into my water bottle and ride off.

It’s getting very hot now … too hot to ride, really … but I have to get home. There’s only a mild head wind down here, not enough to slow me down at all, so I stop thinking and just concentrate on turning my pedals over. The main streets here are named after the presidents, and I’m working my way down from Jackson to Washington. Once I get to Washington, there’s a Just Java that opens every day at 5:30 a.m., so I’ll stop there for an iced tea. If I’m lucky, someone will have left the sports page, so I can check the ball scores and devour the Cliff Bar that’s in my jersey pocket while I cool down. From there, it’s only about four miles home.

When I get home, the little computer on my bike tells me I’ve done about 46 miles. It was work, and it was hot, which made it tougher. But it feels good, and if you can’t suffer, you’re not a cyclist. The shower feels great. So does the nap that follows.

Today is July 7. I took another ride … flatter and only about 30 miles this time, and I started before 6 a.m. to beat the heat. People ask me why I ride and it’s tough to explain. It’s cleansing—purifying, really—and you feel good and clear, clean and precise, while you’re riding, and better when you’re done.

When I get to my computer I find an email telling me that Steve Nissman died. Apparently it was a heart attack, but they’re not sure yet. My friend Adam had to identify the body. Steve was a poker player, and a good one—though not a household name most people would be familiar with. He was only 52, far too young to die.

It was incredibly unsettling news. He had a girlfriend. She was out of town when it happened and someone had to call and tell her that Steve was dead. He had a sister who lived 3,000 miles away. Another person shocked by the news.

There’s an autopsy tomorrow. Funeral arrangements are pending. It’s all such an unsettled situation, and I don’t seem to be doing a good job of processing it.

I’ll get up early tomorrow, before the sun comes up. When it’s light, at about 5:45 a.m.—the time lots of my poker playing friends are going to bed—I’ll be on my bike, out early to beat the heat. This will be a hard ride. It will involve a few hills and I’ll ride as hard as I can. When I’m there, at that point when legs scream and suffering becomes something I just accept and stop trying to fight, in those moments of clarity, I’ll be able to think about why Steve Nissman just upped and died all of a sudden, and for no good reason at all.

Happy Days at the WSOP, Hanging with the Radio Station Guys, Playing Poker, and Scarfing Shrimp Cocktails by the Barrel

I just got back from Las Vegas, the World Series of Poker, and a get together of some of my fellow show hosts at Rounder’s Radio and many listeners who showed up to meet one another and play in the station’s poker tournament.

Since the tournament was at the Golden Nugget, I arranged for anyone interested to meet in the poker room two hours before the tourney’s start so we could divert our attention from poker and think about a shrimp cocktail run to the Golden Gate, located a half-block away from the Nugget.

Anthony Curtis’ Las Vegas Advisor newsletter has listed the Golden Gate’s 99-cent shrimp cocktail among Las Vegas’ top deals for years. Actually, for 99 cents, you get those smallish, bay shrimp, but for a couple of bucks more, you can get jumbo shrimp cocktails instead of bay shrimp, and unless you’re really on a shoestring budget, it’s worth the upgrade.

I ate at the Golden Gate three times during the five days I was in Las Vegas. What can I say? I love the place and the shrimp is terrific. I had three shrimp cocktails prior to the start of the tournament, and I saw others doing the same. What about the other times I ate there? I had three shrimp cocktails on each of those occasions too.

The tournament was a lot of fun, even though I came up just a little bit short of making the money. It was terrific to meet so many listeners, and hang out with the guys from the station. The station is located in the Midwest; I’m in California, so we only seem to get together once a year at the WSOP.

I did not play in any of the WSOP events, but busied myself with cash games every time I headed up to the Rio. As usual, they were terrific. A lot of players seemed to be throwing money around, and that’s always a good thing.
I also played in one of Binion’s tournaments, a six-handed, no-limit hold’em event. I managed to come into the money in fifteenth place—not much to write home about after an entire day’s play, but the tourney was well run, and I enjoyed having room to spread out at a table that was always six-handed.

In between all of that, I got to take care of a lot of business, meet and schmooze with people I needed to catch up with, and was happy with the fact that other than the station’s tournament, where I failed to make the money, I did not have a single losing session during my stay.

Where Have all the HORSEs Gone

With record and near-record participation during the early stages of this year’s WSOP, what’s the story with the $50,000 HORSE event, which attracted only 95 entrants, significantly less than last year?

Other events at this year’s WSOP fared better. In fact, the $1,500 Omaha/8 tournament was the largest Omaha/8 event in WSOP history with 918 participants. One of the "Stimulus Special" events—referred to euphemistically by many players as the “donk-fest”—became the largest ever WSOP tournament outside of the main event.

A couple of reasons for the decline in HORSE participation come to mind. First and foremost, perhaps the WSOP’s one-off, $40,000 buy in event early on the calendar punctured the bankrolls of many players who ponied up their own money but were unable to cash.

A second reason seems to be the economy itself. With money tight, finding a backer is a bit more difficult now than it used to be, and players without the jack to pay their own way into the HORSE event won’t have any way to play if their backers have disappeared along with the easy money of past years.

We are fast approaching the main event. Last year it attracted 6,844 players. The high water mark was in 2006—back when online sites could register satellite winners—and the field that year was a whopping 8,773 players.

I’m guessing the main event attracts about 6,500 players. But I’m far from confident in my prediction, so don’t bet on it!