It's real interesting to cover the World Series, especially the main event. We on Team blog get close to the action without ever being involved in a meaningful way, but we're close to those who are. When a player we've been following busts out, it's like losing a friend, and when a player who's a douche takes down a huge pot, we all grumble at how unfair the world is.
Then there are the people who have shown up to cover the final few tables of the Main Event, the people we call "The fuckin' new kids." We've been here for weeks (some of us, like Pauly, have been here for two months) which is nearly a year in Vegas time, and when one of these hotshots from some big organization swaggers into the room and starts barking orders at us, we get a little . . . cranky.
(Example: We had one new guy freak out at one of our friends and proclaim, "I was just covering the White House!" to which our friend replied, "And now you're here. Are you sure that's something you want to brag about?")
We have our own shorthand language, we have our local eateries and watering holes, and most of all we've learned to lean on and support each other. We're all exhausted, but I will readily admit that when this is all over in a few days, I'm going to miss it. I will miss the camaraderie, and I will miss all those things we've done over the last few weeks to maintain our sanity.
I'll miss seeing my friends every day, and I'll miss working with people who I deeply respect. But mostly, I will miss hustling Otis for piles of money in various prop bets.