It's poker heaven in the City of Angels when the Commerce Casino serves up a nearly $4,000,000 prize pool in this L.A. Poker Classic. An amazing 382 contenders dropped $10,000 each for a chance to capture a WPT title and the life changing $1.4 million first prize. But now only six remain including Parisian playboy David Benyamine, volatile Houston gambler Vinny Vinh, Boston born amateur Mike Keohan and WPT mainstay Antonio Esfandiari, a former magician looking to perform one very profitable card trick. In a city that's all about the poker, the action is all down on the felt in this big money tournament that's bound to be a classic.

The final day of play started at 2 p.m. Well before noon, hundreds of fans were patiently waiting in a line outside the set, hoping to snag one of the 200 seats, some of which were reserved for members of finalists' families and the press.

Escorted by a Travel Channel official, a Wall Street Journal reporter [] and I pushed through the massed fans shortly after 1 p.m. Security guards closely examined precious clutched tickets. Our media IDs got us smoothly through. The stands were already nearly full, but there were four empty seats labeled "Media" in the second row, a position that we had been advised by WPT folks would afford a better view than the first row. A wooden barrier between the steeply angled bleachers and the raised set cut off the view at about chest level in the first row. Also, those in the first row were not much above the playing surface of the table and did not have the vantage point of higher rows.

Before play began, Linda Johnson ran the crowd through the paces of some of the expected responses in somewhat of a crowd warm-up. I believe those orchestrated demonstrations may actually end up being edited in at appropriate junctures, or added for additional atmosphere. Or, maybe they just wanted us to be pumped up for reactions to actual climactic moments. They may not need any canned shots, though, because several exciting confrontations brought the crowd to its feet.

Behind me sat members of Chris Moneymaker's family. Various family members and friends of the finalists seemed to fill most of rows two through four on our side of the set. Opposite us, on the other side of the set, the first two rows of those bleachers contained a full contingent of Tiltboys. You may recall that it was the Tiltboys who in 1996 led an invasion of a ladies tournament in this very same club. They all had showed up in drag and insisted they be allowed to play. You can read Bruscilla Hayek's hilarious account on the Tiltboys home page (http://www.tiltboys.com/); click on "Tiltboys in Panty Jose." One of the prominent gate-crashers you'll recognize is Phyllis (Phil Gordon). Gordon was the luminary the group had come to cheer on. Sometimes between hands Phil wandered over to the stands to exchange a few words with his supporters; at breaks, he was deep in conversation with them. They had an open cell phone line to Kim Scheinberg (the only real female Tiltboy) on the East Coast, relaying crucial plays.

In front of the bleachers at a table sat Jan Fisher and Lee Jones. Fisher is the official WPT statistician, and she kept track of hands. Jones operated the "thumb cam," an overhead camera directly above the table. Normally, that camera showed a bird's-eye view of the action, but whenever the dealer put out the flop, Jones zoomed the lens smoothly to close in on the cards. When the hand ended, he backed up the lens to its widest angle.

That camera was one of eight I counted. The trademark holecard "lipstick cams" added six more. There was the overhead "thumb cam"; two men wielded heavy-duty shoulder cameras (the kind you see at news scenes); two more carried what looked like ordinary camcorders; there was one camera mounted at each end of the table, remotely operated for close-ups of players at critical moments. You can see these cameras sometimes during broadcasts. One huge camera was at the end of a very large telescoping boom that wheeled around the set and could be raised from floor height all the way to the lofty ceiling. The operator sat in a chair with a monitor before him, while another workman moved the whole apparatus about the set. I've read that it costs $350,000 to produce each episode, and I could see where the money was spent.

High above the set on girders were eight spotlights, four at each end of the table. Periodically they were switched on and swung across the set and out into the audience at each end. Other lights had rotating filters that caused dancing beams to spin across the set. The inspiration for this creative lighting, which added greatly to the excitement (and threatened to dazzle the audience every few minutes) seems to have come from Who Wants to Be a Millionaire; it is certainly effective on this show.

During the warm-up, portable fog machines filled the set with a heavy layer of dry ice fog. This lent that special ambience to the entrance of the players as each was introduced. You could feel the excitement as the players were brought in and seated one at a time.

I know that Mike Sexton and Vince Van Patten were at their table only a few dozen feet away, but to see them I had to stand up, lean sideways, and peer around an intruding portion of the set. I don't have personal knowledge of whether they did any actual commentary during the play. This was something I had always wondered about. They must; otherwise, why have the table there to begin with? I couldn't hear anything they said, though. This was undoubtedly deliberate, to avoid disturbing the players and possibly influencing their play with their comments. With mikes right in front of their mouths, Sexton and Van Patten would not have to speak loudly at all, and it would all get picked up on the tape. That also would explain the earpieces they were wearing, to hear what the other was saying. I'll have to watch the show to hear any commentary. I know that some of their remarks are based on seeing holecards. Since no one sees those until the editing is done, those comments must perforce be recorded later. But I believe at least some of the commentary must be live. [Heh.]

The players sat down one at a time, Tournament Director Matt Savage said, "Shuffle up and deal," and play commenced. Actual final-table play lasted about five hours. The whole thing, including interviews, background shots, material shot the first night about Bay 101, atmosphere, and Bay Area shots, will all be edited down to something less than the two hours (to accommodate commercials) that you — and I — will get to view on June 9.

Originally posted by Wizdar
I think this was the best of the season, although Esfandiari seems like the type who could get on your nerves.

Is it my imagination, or were there a lot fewer inane comments from the morons than usual?

Originally posted by TheDude
Ok, so I've avoided reading your posts so far

Originally posted by Patman
Billy was a little spooky in how he would just stare at Antonio.