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Every May, you knew that the Horseshoe was the place to go for the World Series of Poker,” said Flipchip in 2005. “It’s going to take a while to get used to that change.”
For almost three decades, Flipchip had been photographing the WSOP. Every May, Flipchip headed to Binion’s Horseshoe in downtown Las Vegas along with poker players from all over the world during their yearly pilgrimage when the casino became poker’s Mecca.
The WSOP and the Horseshoe were such powerful brands that you never thought that one would ever be able to exist without the other. And yet, that’s what happened when Becky Behnen, daughter of Horseshoe founder Benny Binion, allowed the casino to fall deeply into debt after she became president of the business in 1998. After a cash seizure by the IRS in 2004 to repay money owed to Horseshoe employees, the casino was forced to close its doors. Harrah’s Entertainment purchased the bankrupt Binion’s Horseshoe and acquired the rights to the WSOP. They sold Binion’s to the MTR Gaming Group, who took control of the casino. MTR renamed it Binion’s Gambling Hall and Hotel and doors reopened in April of 2004.
Harrah’s retained the WSOP brand and planned to continue the tradition of the greatest poker tournament in the world but needed to move it to a new location. By 2004 the WSOP had become so popular that Binion’s had a tough time handling the infl ux of rabid poker players and fans so the Harrah’s sale and subsequent relocation was ideal timing. The series was moved to the convention center at the Rio which had the space to accommodate the expanding tournaments. But the executives at Harrah’s respected the historical signifi cance and tradition of the WSOP and agreed to play the fi nal two days of the 2005 Main Event downtown in Benny’s Bullpen at Binion’s. That fi nal table would be the last WSOP event ever played inside one of the holiest poker sanctuaries in the universe.
In blunt terms, Binion’s was a piece of shit after Becky ran it into the ground. The lighting was poor. The air conditioning was shoddy. The rugs were musty and dirty. Parts of the casino smelled like a combination of a nursing home, stale cigars, and the men’s room at a truck stop. Downtown Las Vegas lost its luster as the Strip became the hip place in town to gamble and party. Downtown slipped into a time warp. Nothing had been updated in a decade and parts of the area quickly transformed into a dump. The crowd became seedier. Sure, you had the steady fl ow of tourists looking for cheap rooms and cheap food, but the majority of the clientele represented some of the lowest forms of gambling scum in the Las Vegas valley. Ninety-nine cent shrimp cocktail specials don’t exactly attract a jetsetting crowd.
Downtown’s dinginess made it a perfect backdrop for the most prestigious poker tournament in the world. When you had to step over homeless people lying in puddles of their own urine on Fremont Street in order to get into the Horseshoe, it was harsh reminder that you might be only one bad beat away from lying face down in the gutter.
That’s what was so special about it the WSOP at Binion’s. The ambiance and atmosphere were just as Al Alvarez described in The Biggest Game in Town. At one moment you expect to see a high roller jump out of a limousine with a bag full of cash and the next you were worried about getting shanked in the parking lot by a tweaker. You could catch a glimpse of Johnny Chan signing autographs and then turn around to see an old lady in a wheelchair stuffi ng the last of her social security check into the penny slots.
Benny’s Bullpen should be enshrined in glass and set aside as a historical landmark. Several of the most signifi cant events in the history of poker occurred in Benny’s Bullpen and you could feel that energy as soon as you walked into the room. During my fi rst visit, I got goose bumps and a chill ran up my spine. I was inundated by a warm, nostalgic feeling like the one I got when I set foot in Yankee Stadium and looked out onto the fi eld where the ghosts of Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Mickey Mantle, and Joe DiMaggio mingled.
Benny’s Bullpen was poker’s version of Yankee Stadium and a post-modern version of the Roman Coliseum where gladiators fought to the death. Benny’s Bullpen was where regular gamblers were transformed into the legends of poker. Moss. Brunson. Ungar. Chan. They all shared the same stale air as me. No wonder Benny’s Bullpen was such an intimidating place. Not only did you have to slug it out with the best contemporary players in the world, you also had to survive the taunts and teases from the ghosts of the gambling greats.
On the day of the fi nal fi nal table at the Horseshoe, Flipchip drove me to Binion’s and we parked in a desolate and creepy parking garage. Flipchip knew downtown Las Vegas like the back of his hand. He pointed to an unmarked door and I followed him. We walked up a fl ight of stairs, across the street, down a long corridor, and down an escalator. And then we were magically in Binion’s and I felt as if we had stepped back in time thirty years. We made our way to the Chinese restaurant serving as a makeshift media room via a secret passageway through the kitchen to avoid the huge congestion in the hallway. It reminded me of that cool tracking shot in the Copacabana scene from Martin Scorcese’s fl ick Goodfellas.
It was dark as hell in there and smaller than I imagined. The media area was in the far back, tucked away in a corner. We could not view the fi - nal table from media row but I had no other place to go since Benny’s Bullpen was standing room only.
“You have no idea what it used to be like,” said Mike Paulle, former media director of the WSOP. “They never used to give internet guys badges. Five years ago, they never would have let you in.”
The lucky nine souls who made the fi nal table included Joe Hachem, Andy Black, Tex Barch, Daniel Bergsdorf, Mike Matusow, Aaron Kanter, Brad Kondracki, Steve Dannenmann, and Scott Lazar. The stands were packed with friends and family of the fi nal table players. Railbirds lined up three hours before game time just to catch a glimpse of the historic last WSOP table ever at Binion’s. The line wrapped around the buffet, down the narrow hall, and backed up all the way to the media room. Everyone else that couldn’t get inside Benny’s Bullpen watched the action on big screens inside the buffet or downstairs at the sports book.
1973 WSOP champion Puggy Pearson made an appearance at the fi nal table proceedings and even sang a song that he wrote specifi cally for the occasion. Several pros were in the crowd including Phil Hellmuth, Jen Harman, Andy Bloch, Greg Raymer, Tom McEvoy, Jesus Ferguson, and Erik Seidel.
At 4:47pm, Greg Raymer started off the fi - nal table as he announced, “Shuffl e up and deal.” Less than eight minutes later, Matusow went all in with pocket kings against Scott Lazar’s aces. Matusow had Lazar covered and in bad shape when he fl opped a set of kings, but Lazar caught running hearts to make a four fl ush. He won the pot and the anti-Matusow fans in the crowd went ballistic. Matusow looked devastated as he slipped to four million in chips.
By the end of the fi rst break, Matusow was in trouble with a short stack and sweat was dripping off of his face like Patrick Ewing during a free throw attempt. Alas, Matusow’s magnifi cent run came to a screeching halt. On a fl op of 5s-3s-2c, Matusow was all in with 10-10 against Dannenmann’s A-J. Matusow was about to double up, but Dannenmann caught a wheel on the turn when a 4 spiked. Matusow was the fi rst player eliminated at the fi nal table, but won a cool $1,000,000 for ninth place.
With Matusow’s departure, Andy Black was the best player remaining at the fi nal table, applying a lot of pressure on his competitors with timely raises. Black had increased his stack to 18.23 million and took the lead. With six remaining, Joe Hachem doubled up his short stack which woke up his now f a m o u s cheering s e c t i o n who had been silent for most of the fi nal table. As soon as Hachem doubled up, they chanted “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie! Oy, oy, oy!” and sang and waved the Australian fl ag. On the next hand, Lazar made a tilty move and shoved all in with Q-10. Andy Black woke up with jacks and called. Black won the pot as a dejected Lazar headed to the rail in 6th place. That’s how tough the WSOP can be - you can get busted inside of two hands, and all the work you did for a week gets thrown out the window in an instant.
Black coughed up the chip lead after he lost two decisive pots. He soon found himself nursing a short stack and went from being the hunter to the hunted. Black busted out in 5th place when he lost a race with 10-10 against Dannenmann’s A-K. Although Black won $1,750,000, he looked like he was going to cry. Phil Hellmuth rushed to Black and offered up some encouraging words as the crowd gave him the loudest send off of the fi nal table.
“He deserved better than fi rst. He played his heart out,” said Tom Murphy, a journalist from Ireland covering his fellow countryman’s sensational run.
Action slowed down when the fi nal table was fourhanded. By 3:15am, the crowd at Benny’s Bullpen had thinned out a bit. Only the diehards remained. Just before 5am Aaron Kanter busted out in fourth place and Hachem took over the chip lead.
Once it got three-handed, ESPN halted production for the “money presentation,” which was a procession of two thugs with shotguns followed by several suits with boxes of cash. They dumped it on the table and put the winner’s bracelet on top. Security was need to keep the swarm of photographers away from the table.
“Unless you have a shotgun, you need to be away from the money,” tournament director Johnny Grooms said over the PA.
The action was slow for another hour until Barch was eliminated in third place. When heads-up play began, Hachem held almost 40 million while Dannenmann had 16.3 million. At 6:40am, after half an hour of heads-up play, Joe Hachem emerged victorious when he fl opped a straight with 7-3 offsuit. Dannenmann moved all in on the turn when he paired his ace and was quickly called by Hachem. The Australian won $7.5 million and outlasted 5,618 players - the largest fi eld ever at the WSOP Main Event up until that point.
That table was the longest Main Event fi nal table in the history of the WSOP, clocking in at over 14 hours. Like most major poker events, the climax was muted because everyone involved was exhausted and dog-tired. Flipchip waited patiently to snap a winner’s photo, and at around 8am we left the Horseshoe and said goodbye to Benny’s Bullpen for the last time.
“The WSOP might go on forever,” mused Flipchip. “But as long as the fi nal table is not played in Benny’s Bullpen, it will never be the same.”
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