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Posted: Monday, July 18, 2005

By Michael Kaplan

Steve Dannenmann of Maryland (L) watches as Australian Joseph Hachem (R) ponders the cards on the final hand of the final table of the World Series of Poker.

At four o'clock on Friday afternoon, they file into an upstairs ballroom at Binion's Gambling Hall and Hotel in downtown Las Vegas. Night-colored drapes wrap the space, dotted with holes and lit from behind to create a starlight effect. Cameras seem to be everywhere. Three sets of aluminum bleachers close in on a low black stage, upon which resides what the World Series of Poker people call their "TV table."

Greg "Fossilman" Raymer, who probably qualifies as the classiest, most graceful World Series winner in the game's history, circles the table, shakes hands with each player, hugs a few, wishes them all luck. Then he pats the PokerStars logo on University of Penn law student Brad Kondracki's shirt and, presumably, tells him to win one for the team.

The table has been dramatically lit and customized with hole-card cameras that spy on players' wired aces and long-shot hands. More impressive than the hardware, however, are the nine contenders: coming from places as far flung as Ireland, Australia, Texas and Maryland as well as right here in Las Vegas, they've all outlasted more than 5,600 other players and are guaranteed at least $1 million.

If anyone in the crowd -- all friends, family and media -- fear that the early action will be a tightness-fest, with no player willing to risk being the first one out, Kondracki quickly puts that concern to rest. Just a couple hands in, he bets his entire stack of chips. Nobody calls, he rakes in antes and blinds, and sets the pace for an aggressive style of play that will define the rest of the day.

Considering that Mike "The Mouth" Matusow has been the life of the World Series, it only makes sense that he'd be the focus of attention on the final day. He comes to the table smiling and bowing and pumping his fists in the air, obviously psyched for the tournament, ignoring all the speculation on "how long it will take for Mike to melt down."

The question seems to be answered several hands into the tournament when Matusow pushes all his chips to the table's center. Scott Lazar, a production assistant from L.A. who made four final tables this year, calls the bet. Because he has fewer chips than Matusow, he will not be able to knock out Mike The Mouth, but is in danger of being knocked out himself -- especially after Matusow turns over his cards and shows a pair of Kings. Then Lazar reveals Aces. Uh oh.

Steve Dannemann, a CPA from Baltimore who has played the best poker of his life during the Series, sees the cards hit, jumps from his seat and high-fives a posse of friends from his home poker game. He had folded Jacks -- which would have been the underdog hand -- and is proud to have made the lay-down. Matusow needs one of two cards -- a third King -- to have a chance of winning. It hits on the flop and he leaps in the air, jumping so his knees practically touch his chest. He circles the room, high-fiving and hugging boosters, relieved to be back in the game.

Matusow resumes his seat, clasps his hands behind his head, and dips forward, oozing intensity. When a heart comes on the turn, the room suddenly hushes, as it puts three hearts on the board and one in Lazar's hand, creating an unthinkable situation: Lazar might draw four suited cards to make a heart flush.

A fifth heart hits on the river, giving Lazar a winning hand. Matusow jumps from his seat, does a pained jig around the room, collapses into the arms of a pal and returns to his seat. Body twisted and hands covering his ears, he knows he needs to resume playing poker -- and he does, betting $270,000, inducing Steve Dannemann to call, then pressuring him into folding a pair of 4s. Matusow take the pot.

It's still early when Matusow is first to go out -- his wired 10s are beaten by Swedish truck driver Daniel Bergsdorf's straight on the river -- to the crowd's taunts of "Is this the meltdown moment?" and "We can't hear you, Mouth." But Matusow is surprisingly dignified about the whole thing (no doubt, his million-dollar prize goes a long way in softening the blow of early elimination), and it is another player who does something bizarre.

It happens during the press conference, in which Matusow talks about sustaining bad beats and insists that he's never played better poker. Another player, with whom Matusow had been mixing it up throughout the Series, pops into the media room, jumps in front of Matusow and shouts something about Doyle Brunson being the best player. The intruder gets escorted out, and, for once, Mike The Mouth is stunned into silence.

During a break in play, Steve Dannemann huddles with his home poker game buddies. I can't resist asking who's the best player in that particular game.

"We all have our days," one guy volunteers.

"Tell the truth," says Dannemann.

"Everybody's pretty similar," suggests another.

"The truth is," explains Danneman, "that I would be in the lower quadrant."

That hangs in the air for a minute, before a crony changes the subject by asking, "Hey, Steve, should we chant Taxman or ‘the taxman cometh' when you're between hands?"

"I'll leave that up to you guys to figure out," says Danneman, turning back toward the game.

The stress of playing high-end poker for nine days is something that cannot be overestimated. Sooner or later, everybody reaches a breaking point, and for Scott Lazar that moment comes after a Chinese dinner during the final day's supper break. Though he'd been playing superbly since the start of the tournament, Lazar suddenly begins making moves that seem half-cocked -- exactly what not to do during the last hours of a marathon multimillion-dollar tourney.

Before getting taken out by chip leader Andrew "The Monk" Black, Lazar has already blown off chips to two other players and appears to be steaming. This might explain why he chooses to risk his entire tournament life on Queen-10 unsuited, cards that do not hold up to Black's pair of Jacks.

Later, in trying to rationalize how his game fell apart so suddenly, sixth-place finisher Lazar admits, "I was too fatigued to make the proper calculations." Then he explains that he misplayed an Ace, folding it early on, only to see a pair of bullets come on the flop. "I was devastated to have missed such a golden opportunity."

Lazar acknowledges that things quickly unraveled after he missed out on his set of Aces. Almost in tears, the $1.5 million winner says, "I gambled at the end, and I'm disappointed to have done that after playing so perfectly for the entire tournament."

When Irishman Andrew Black gets eliminated in fifth place (taking home a prize of $1.75 million), agent to the game's biggest stars Brian Balsbaugh asks me if I know who is the happiest man in poker right now. Stumped, I suggest that it might be Steve Dannemann, who just knocked out Black and snagged millions of dollars in chips. Balsbaugh shakes his head and replies, "Andy Bloch. If Andrew Black had won, Andy Bloch would spend the rest of his poker career with people mistaking him for Andy Black, the guy who won the World Series of Poker."

By the time it inevitably comes down to two players, the hour is nearing seven o'clock on Saturday morning. The guys have been going at it for nearly 15 hours, the tournament room remains packed, runs to Starbucks (across the street at the Golden Nugget and open 24 hours) become increasingly frequent, and Steve "Taxman" Dannemann and Joseph Hachem (a soul-patched, slightly-sinister looking Australian chiropractor-turned-poker-pro) need no stimulants to remain awake. They have only to check out an adjacent table, piled high with some $20 million in banded hundreds. The currency represents the total pay out for the final table. It is topped off by a shimmering silver WSOP championship bracelet and guarded by a pair of rifle-toting goons.

No matter how unbiased you try to be, it's impossible not to get caught up in the competition and to keep from rooting for one player over the other. Initially I am pulling for Dannemann. He and his poker-playing buddies remind me of my friends and myself. Then I manage to snag a front row perch next to Joseph Hachem's younger brother, Tony, who comes off as a very decent guy. Tony tells me about their brother who died 18 years ago in a car accident. "Remember the hand when Joe had Queen-10?" he asks me. "Joe needed a pair to win. I closed my eyes and prayed to our deceased brother, asking him to give us a Queen. Then it came. He was looking out for Joe and I."

If the anecdote appears corny on-screen, it didn't seem that way in person. We talk a bit more, discuss their family dynamic, how much younger brother Tony has always idolized Joe, and I have to say I feel happy for both of them when Hachem's straight beats Dannemann's top pair -- leaving Danneman with a second-place prize of $5 million. Hachem's boosters roar, "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie; Oy! Oy! Oy!" as their man drapes an Australian flag across his shoulders and shouts, "Thank you. America." Reporters close in on Hachem and photographers instruct him to hold up bricks of money, representative of his $7.5-million first prize. Joseph Hachem seems happy and modest, and I think I know at least one thought that is going through his mind.

Photo Courtesy of Getty Images

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