Timo Pfutzenreuter was off the stage. When Frei Dilling moved all-in, Pfutzenreuter ran back.
But the thing was there had been so little movement both on and off the stage that to see someone running up the stairs was like seeing one of those inebriated people dancing onstage at an Pulp concert. If you don’t stop them they think they can start crowd surfing.
This was a member of staff attempting to stop him before realising his mistake. But there was no doubting that this little vignette had woken people up.
The stage from above. Note the spectators to the left, not the right
So far everyone seems to realise that today will be all about waiting. There are two banks of seating around the main stage, separated by the rather awkwardly placed High Roller final table, positioned between so that the cameras can reach it without their cables unplugging.
On one side, nearest the door, there isn’t a free seat to be had. They’re full of Bulgarians and Germans cheering home their boys. On the far side though there’s nobody. It’s too much hassle to push past the crowd to get there. But all seem happy to wait and anticipate a happy ended to their support.
So when it came it was almost a complete surprise. Suddenly Pfutzenreuter was rushing the stage and Frei Dilling was out of his chair shaking hands with people.
Looking at the screen the hands were there for everyone to see, we just hadn’t noticed.
Dilling’s ace-four had been undone by Marko Neumann’s king-seven. A king hit the flop, Dilling hit the rail. The crowd chanted Neumann’s name a few times before settling back into their quiet pre-occupation. For the time being at least.
Stephen Bartley is a PokerStars Blog reporter.