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LAPT Grand Final: Tick...tock...tick...

lapt-promo.gifDay 2 has put me in the awkward position of admitting something about the nature of covering poker tournaments: by and large, we reporter types hate dinner breaks. We understand they are probably necessary, and we grok the whole idea of "people needing sustenance to survive." But, really, dinner breaks are The Suck, especially when you're in a city full of excitement and energy. Doubly so when that city is celebrating Carnival.

But, being that they are the nature of the business, we ate food court shrimp curry and bided our time for the 60 minutes it took the remaining 30 players in this tournament to find a meal. That doesn't mean we have to like it.

It hurt a little more tonight, because we knew only six players had to bust before we could pack up our stuff and leave to enjoy Saturday night. Or, in short, we had to wait an hour to undertake what is expected to be about half an hour of work.

Across the universe, I hear people saying, "Shut your bloody mouth, you ungrateful son of a--."

I hear you. I do. We're fortunate people to have these jobs, and we don't have any interest in what's in the gift horse's mouth (unless he's squirreled away one of those Brazilian samba dancers, in which case...well, sign us up). But, the thing is, I expect all six of those people will have been eliminated before I finish this post.

And to be fair, we're not the only ones looking at the clock. Even Daniel Negreanu is wondering what kind of fun he can have. His problem is that he actually has a big stack and in his words, "It would be pretty stupid to stop trying now."

GRAND FINAL LAPT SEASON 4 SAO PAULO 00266.JPG

What? Me stop trying? Don't count on it.

Now, normally this post would go into the current goings-on after dinner, but as predicted, there is now no time to write. In the first 25 minutes after dinner, we've lost--on average--a player every five minutes. After one more person is eliminated, the day is done.

So, now it's chip-counting time. Here's to hoping it helps us forget we could've been dancing the samba with a pretty Brazilian girl half an hour ago. And by we, I mean the members of the blog staff who haven't been married for nearly 12 years.

What's that? Sorry, have to go. Forget everything you've read here.

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