With Espandiari gone, ESPN went all out to talk about Daniel Negreanu and the Final Table, a story about a man who tragically hasn't yet won a proper place in the Nov. 9 game despite being the coolest person and the best poker player who blesses poker with his presence. But now that he has overcome the difficulties of bad posture and started working out as a vegan, he will definitely succeed this year because that's how the story goes.

Obviously, it didn't happen. In the meantime, I've spent a little bit more time wondering if I'm missing something. Did anyone else find it odd that the attached, short guy in his 40s is the one who hosts the feature table, and that basically one player can always host the feature table? I'm sure he continued to enjoy the delightful regular table talk, but in the face of countless comments about his being poker's line, I would have expected him to tease other people's accents a little less.

Seriously, there's literally a part of episode 16 where other poker players talk about how cool Negreanu is. I found it offensive. I also think it's time to throw away the nickname "Kid Poker" and start calling him "Poker Jesus," because that's what everyone thinks of him. And he grows a beard. (Note: There's another poker player nicknamed "Jesus." But he's not Poker Jesus, because ESPN didn't spend 14 episodes praising him.)

I'm probably being unfair to Negrianu here because poker is all about a long, long-standing subculture that I have no idea about, and poker has been perfectly entertaining. I probably would have liked him better if I didn't feel like I was getting hit in the head by how much I should like him.

That's why my favorite part of all the main event coverage was that Justin "Stelsmunk" Schwartz, a human disaster, landed on a special table and annoyed almost everyone there. I didn't know who this was, but it was clear that he didn't like Negrianu and neither did Negrianu, so he became the only one on screen to criticize the party line. He also almost constantly makes socially awkward noises, making all the gentle jokes of media-friendly players steamy and very uncomfortable with them. It's really fun.

My opinion is, it doesn't seem to be universally accepted. Almost everyone who doesn't think this was the best part of coverage seems to think this was the worst part of coverage. But around that time, I felt that this show wasn't objective news reporting on games. I was clearly watching reality television about poker players, and the whole point of reality television was watching the wrong people get into conflict with a lot of drama. Also, there's a surrogate freedom to watch others become completely outrageous, completely unburdened by social expectations that can constrain our behavior.

The show has been trying to provide a backdrop for what Schwartz and Negreanu's contract is, but all I get is that they've been mean to each other for years. But Negreanu wants to help Schwartz now and is very happy that he's been too generous. So they're taking on a challenge that combines poker games and weight loss. And I'm definitely missing out on what important elements of poker bro psychology help instead of condescending this, or if it's not well explained. But whatever the origin of the DNegs/Stelsmunk Beef, I'm going to watch it for a thousand hours. 바카라사이트 추천

The closer we get to the finals, the better we get to know about November's November, with the exception of Patrick Chan. It's as if they knew he was going to hit it with both hands. ESPN was particularly fascinated by Max Steinberg and Neil Blumenthal. The network reluctantly gives Joe McKeon airtime, where he stares at his opponents a lot and is otherwise not very expressive, but we can't really ignore him because he's basically mopping up the floor with everyone. One of the announcers (I think Ron) asks if we can believe Joe McKeon is a world champion in danger. I've also had him kicked in the ass by a lot of guys like Joe McKeon in danger, right? Federico Butteroni is incredibly Italian. Tom Canuli of New Jersey is very, very credibly, Italian-American.