Take a deep breath, close your eyes, clear your mind of anything and everything that’s perplexing, count slowly to three, exhale…now you’re ready to proceed.

Table 24, $4-$8 Holdem, only one player at the table is a local, James, 10s. All the rest are young, brawny, healthy guys except for the 4s and the 9s.

The 4s is very attractive in a sultry sort of way, pouting, full lips, somewhere in her late 30’s or early 40’s would be my guess. She’s wearing a flimsy, t-strap, black top that is cut down almost to her navel and most of her chest is bare. Use your imagination with it, not overly firm but still appealing and a certain, ‘I can hurt you and you’re going to like it’ kind of attitude.

The 9s was a little beauty queen, barely looked 20…that fresh, startling appeal like discovering a vibrant, scarlet flower that’s blooming in a bed of grey rock and barren desert.
The 4 and 9s were connected. No one knew how for sure. They didn’t look like sisters or like a mother/daughter duo but it’s hard to tell in this day and age.

The 1s was rambunctious, having a little fun and trying to flirt with Courtney, one of our drink servers. He was failing miserably as she was all business and after she walked away, he asked, “Is she married?”

I said, “Hey, that’s your job…find out on your own.”

He mumbled something about being bashful…

The 2s opened and our new player was a million pounds of bundled energy, stressed to the max to suck up every ounce of life he could in the next minute or blow, packaged in the form of a good looking, young, black, male body. He checked the 4s right out and asked if she was married. Her reply was no.

The 1 and 2s saw Courtney walk by the table and they both did a little ‘guy dialogue’ on “Wonder if that one’s married?”
The 4s did a spin that even I couldn’t believe. She jumped out of her chair and pointed to the 2s as she exclaimed, “I’m sick of your sexist remarks and your sexually lewd comments!”
I thought I’d really missed something here. I asked, “What happened?”

She pointed to the 2s, “He just keeps making comments to me and every woman that’s walked by. I can’t stand that sexist attitude.”

Now Dave, our Front Brush rushed to the Damsel in distress, ready to defend her from the ‘baddies’ that had her upset. Couldn’t be because her whole chest was exposed could it? No…it’s because he always pays extra, special attention to any woman under 40.

She demanded to the 9s to pick up her chips, they were leaving. She told Dave to cash her out. Dave did a little bit of foot shuffling, slipping in and out of gear…mainly out…the transmission was losing teeth in the shift…as he tried to make her happy and look like he was defending her.

I interjected, “Dave, nobody said anything out of line.”

All the guys jumped in to second that thought. Dave picked up her chips and walked her to the Cashier’s Cage…the Little Darling in the 9s picked up her chips and left also. The boys were glum about the 9s leaving and the conjecture started about what their relationship to each other was.

Dave walked back by and gave the boys one more finger wagging, “Gentlemen, let’s behave.”

I countered with, “Dave!!!! No one did anything out of line.”

James, 10s, exclaimed, “You mean the woman that had her breasts exposed to the table is upset over a sexist remark?
We all roared.

Yes…it’s like ‘look at me, I’m showing off my boobies, but don’t make any comment or expect me to be on show here’. Which brings me to the beginning…or possibly the end of something that I find to be quite irritating.

Poker has been hidden in dark corners, basements, someone’s home once a week, illegal games and legal games. It’s always appeared that poker is the ghetto of a casino. Many casinos won’t even waste their time with a poker room because poker isn’t a money maker. Please…let’s not get into the fact that players also play in the pit, their wives play slots while the player is in a game, etc. Stop trying to figure that the drop is whatever per hour because that would mean the game has to run 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, day in and day out and most poker rooms do not have that kind of action so it’s easier and more profitable to roll in the slot machines than it is to try to fade poker.

Suddenly poker is ‘big’. It’s on TV. Women players are being featured in all kinds of magazines and other media.

The WPT, along with other Television specials, has elevated poker, lifted it to a revered status where everyone wants to be part of it, play it, read about it, and hopefully reap the rewards of winning and being able to brush elbows with every ‘Name Brand’ player in the playing arena.

Here we have ‘the group’. The name brand players that have now reached a celebrity status…they have ‘exposed their breasts’ to the world but they don’t want anyone to know anything about them or expect anyone to be able to step into the privacy of a poker game they play in a casino.

Anyone can stand on the rail or drift by and see some of what’s going on. Anyone can write a tale, or post on numerous newsgroups and forums on the internet, about someone they saw or heard about in a poker game. New and old players get a kick out of being able to say they saw, Jennifer or Doyle or Johnny or Phil or Ted or Daniel…the list goes on and on…and to say they know something of the game play or lifestyle is a big rush for the teller.

For some reason, a random reporter or ‘noise maker’ can tell a tale but I, on the other hand, an employee of a major poker room in Nevada, receive a condescending tone from many posters, that I should be fired for writing about poker from the people side of it.

Take a short intermission here…have you figured out by now that I have a stemmed glass in my hand? If so, good for you. Maybe you should get one. The bitch is on a rant again. I know some of you literally love The Bitch. That’s why you’re here. Some of you are so twisted that you have to keep coming back just to marvel that I have the guts to write the things I write about.

I believe in the truth. I believe in telling it like it is. I do not believe that Johnny Moss or Stu Ungar or a lot of big name players were/are “Great players!” I want to puke when I hear that. I’ve had them throw cards at my chest and mumble all the swear words they could find when they lost a hand…so, they’re great when they win????? But when they lose it’s got to be someone else’s fault? Pshaw!

End of intermission.

Now that poker’s hit the Big Time, it’s reportable, it’s writable, it’s news. For someone to win, someone has to lose. That’s the way the game is played. Now if anyone’s going on Television or a magazine or newspaper gig, can they really look a reporter in the eye and state, “I’m a winner!” because my next question would be, “Define winner?” Hell, there are so many twists and answers to that…I can’t find enough wine tonight to get me through that one.

So back to the twist that has caused a wrinkle in my grey matter. Why would anyone that plays at Bellagio, think they should never have their name appear on the internet in a post or a written dissertation about what really happened while they were playing? If I worked at a newspaper office and found out the Editor was a wife beating, child molester, even I was a janitor, should I just let that slide because I worked there? Why should I be fired for reporting the news?

The President couldn’t have a discreet affair so why should you, the player think that your actions in a casino aren’t open to scrutiny and reportable?

The World is a sponge, ready to suck up ‘anything poker’…they have inquiring minds, they want to know about the game, about the people that play high limit, about the stars on TV, about the people that work in the industry, and where and when the next Big Game is being played.

If you play and think no one is entitled to know anything about you…start your own game, lock your game in a hole in the ground…otherwise, come up for air, Sunshine…poker is Big and I’m going to help turn a snowball into an avalanche.
I may be down but I’m not out and the referee hasn’t finished the count…