TEXAS HOLDEM ONLINE POKER

A last-second field goal opportunity to win the Super Bowl? Bottom of the ninth with two outs in Game 7 of the World Series, the home team down by three with the bases loaded and the cleanup hitter at the plate? Kobe Bryant sweating profusely as the jury foreman begins to speak the words, "We the jury, find the defendant ..."

Try the final table at Bingham's Horseshoe Casino during the World Series of Poker, where players can go from being millionaires to catching the bus home in a matter of minutes.

What could be better? Seven people, sitting around a table playing cards. But not for $10 pots with plastic chips like you play at home with your friends. A low pot for these guys is a quarter of a million dollars, or, as I like to think of it, a nice house in the suburbs.

Players there act like they're in "The Matrix," sporting sunglasses and wearing blank stares, anything to mask the fact that millions of dollars are at stake. People who have nothing better than a three of spades bluff their way into winning enough money to retire for life.

Routinely, the amount of money in the center of the table is in the neighborhood of seven figures. Chips are stacked so high that sometimes you can't even see the Texas Holdem player behind the pile. If you think NBA players are overpaid, wait until you get a glimpse of a 300-pound man leaving the tournament a cool half mil richer.

It takes a healthy mix of luck and skill to make it to the coveted final table. Last year's winner, Chris Moneymaker (a poker player with the last name Moneymaker sounds about as real as a muscular movie star named Vin Diesel), was an accountant who had only played poker on the Internet before heading home $2.5 million dollars richer.

He enjoyed a series of timely bets, and once went all in (betting all your chips) with a losing hand and would have taken a huge hit had his opponent called his bluff.

How did we know he was bluffing? Because ESPN, the network that televises the event, shows the viewers at home what each player holds, as well as their chances of winning. This allows fans to stare in amazement when a player wins with a pair of twos, or scream in frustration when someone folds with a winning hand.

If the people at home get tense when Texas Holdem players lose, imagine how it feels to be the player sitting at the table.

As legendary Texas Holdem poker player and two-time Series champion Doyle Brunson once said, "The worst day of the year is the day you get knocked out of this tournament."

He couldn't have put it better. The looks on players' faces when they have no more chips to lose are priceless. But most don't overreact. They politely shake hands with the remaining competitors and walk away, albeit mumbling much under their breath.

Not like it's that bad to come in fourth or fifth. Last year, the fourth-place gambler took home $435,000. Not bad considering the only comparable payday in sports comes in golf, and even in the best PGA tourneys you can't make that for fourth. And this year, the prize for the winner has been doubled to $5 million, so expect the loot to increase down the board as well.

Like all sports, the World Series of Poker is most entertaining when it comes down to the final act. It's one-on-one; no limit Texas HoldEm for all the money. And the best part, the absolute best part, is when it gets down to these final two players, because Bingham's adds an extra twist to up the drama.

The casino staff, armed with shotguns and bulletproof vests, brings out the prize money in a plain white box and stacks it on the table in front of the players. This is a brilliant psychological move, forcing the two remaining competitors to recognize exactly what's at stake - cold hard cash.

And that kind of mental game is what makes the World Series of Poker such a draw. Sure, it's just two guys playing cards for a lot of money, and no matter how good a bluff someone pulls off, it won't make SportsCenter.

But the thrill of watching other people gamble for that much money is irresistible. You try and put yourself in their shoes, but you can't. It's impossible to fathom how much pressure those players are under with that much cash in front of them. I could always picture myself hitting a major league fastball or catching a pass over the middle in the NFL, but I could never, ever, be that cool with that much money staring me down. I'd be too busy drooling on my lap and trying to figure out which sports car I'd buy first.

So next time you turn on the TV and there's a Seattle Mariners-Pittsburgh Pirates minor league game on, flip over to ESPN and see if you can catch reruns of last year's tournament, or watch the new episodes starting July 6.

I bet you will.