As I reflect on the 2007 WSOP I have very mixed feelings. The highlight, of course, was finally getting my bracelet after all these years. The support and congratulatory sentiments I got from family and friends, some of whom I hadn’t heard from for years, was overwhelming. (I wrote a report on my bracelet event for All In magazine that will be published in two segments, starting in the next issue.) The flip side is my disappointment at how drastically the WSOP has changed for the worse from when I first came on the scene.

In the old days, when Jack and Benny Binion ran the show, the anticipation as the WSOP approached was almost unbearable, the 2½ weeks of action was the unquestioned highlight of every gambler’s year, and the letdown when it was over was palpable. The cast of characters (and most of them were real characters, not the made-for-TV boors of today) came from the underground gambling world of the U.S., many of them grizzled road gamblers from the South. Most of the players, as well as dealers, floor people and cocktail waitresses, knew each other and there was a real sense of being part of an elite group. In keeping with that theme, the Binion’s made sure players were treated with dignity and respect. I don’t think pampered is too strong a word. The player’s buffet was legendary and comps flowed freely throughout the day and night. Alas, nothing great lasts forever.

The modern WSOP bears little resemblance to its predecessor. The intimate feel is long gone, the host is a faceless conglomerate, and players are treated with a pronounced lack of dignity and respect. While attendance figures might lead observers to conclude that the WSOP is alive and well, myriad problems are eating at the foundations of what made it great and if steps aren’t taken the WSOP is in danger of a major crash.

My feelings about the WSOP run deep, and I have more to say than I can cover in one entry. In future posts I’ll run down what I see as the specific problems and what our hope is as players for possible solutions. For now, I’ll just address what I see as the major threat to the health of the WSOP–the fact that it has become more of a test of endurance than a test of poker skill.

Players are routinely asked to put in 14 and 16-hour days at crowded, 10-handed tables, and are subjected to all manner of temperature extremes. To go all the way in a bracelet event is a mini-marathon. To do this on a regular basis for 6 weeks is a major-marathon. The quality of play among players who play multiple events is definitely sub-par toward the end of the tournament. I know I struggled to stay focused in the event I won, which was my 20th of the tournament. I think one of the reasons more pros don’t perform well in the Main Event is that they are burned out by the time it comes along and play far below their best game. Why is it that the that the standard work day in this country is 8 hours, yet we’re expected to put in 14 or more hours day after day? I don’t think any playing session should exceed 12 hours. If they have to go to 4-day, or even 5-day events in the preliminaries and extend the ME a few more days, so be it.

The result of the present policy is that the WSOP is fast becoming a young man’s game. While many kids think it’s ok because the stamina factor gives them an edge, the fact is that many older players are simply refusing to play. I ran into Steve Z as I was walking into the Rio on the day of my final table. We were talking about how brutal the playing conditions were and he went on to say that next year he was just going to play a few selected events that he really wanted to play. He was reading my mind, as I’d been thinking the same thing. I know a lot of older players who passed on playing the ME when it was announced that there would be 6 two-hour levels of play on Day 1. Combined with the absurd policy of half-hour breaks after each level and an extended dinner break, this meant players wouldn’t be done until 4 am. I used to wonder how anybody with the means to afford the entry fee could pass up the ME, but now I understand.

While people may look at the numbers of entrants this year and assume that the WSOP as a whole is still in a growth pattern, looking beyond the numbers points to a different story. Many of the older players who helped build the WSOP into the phenomenon it has become still participate because it’s an event they have always loved. Many of these are players who are past their prime, but are financially secure and can afford to play for the entertainment value. However, as conditions cause their enthusiasm to deteriorate they will stop playing and a much needed financial base will be lost. The poker economy is finite, and many of the kids playing today are on shaky financial footing. Add in the effects of the UIGEA and the huge amounts being raked from the prize pools and the overall situation becomes less rosy.

I always envisioned the scene and how I’d feel when I won a bracelet—cheering crowd, all my friends in attendance and an immense feeling of joy. Instead, I was trapped in a little curtained off room (sequestered) and my immediate feeling was one of relief that it was over. I was completely exhausted and had barely enough energy to do the post-game interviews, much less start celebrating. Now that I’ve had some time to reflect, my dominant feeling is still one of relief—I’ve achieved my goal, gotten my bracelet and won’t torture myself further to try to get another.