The morning goes like this: breakfast in the hotel buffet, then a walk along the seafront and back to the hotel — narrowly avoiding Jack from near Sacramento, whose blustery attempts to bolster his fragile self-esteem are becoming rather wearing — then a shit and a shower (excuse me if this is more than you want to know), and I’ll pack my bag and smoke too many cigarettes.
They played last night until nearly 1.30 am, when the 113th casualty of the day was eliminated. So, we’ll be playing for the same length of time, although, it seems, with a bigger field. Moneymaker made it till midnight (the word is, that every player in the room was gunning for him, bluffing him, trying to push him off pots, calling his bets down on every street), Boris Becker lasted a significantly shorter time. None of the Brazilian models who were playing made it through the day, but my neophyte Dutch chum Patrick survived, albeit in 24th place of the 27, with 32,100 chips. The Day 1A chip leader is Jaime Ateneloff from Uruguay, with 108,300 chips, followed by Eduardo Santi of Argentina with 96,300. Santi looks about 10 years old, but is as ancient as 19. Ateneloff, known in these parts as ‘The Godfather of Uruguayan poker’, is 77. There’s hope for us all.