However, to give the devil his due, he did come up with one of the funniest lines of the poker year during a key hand against Hansen. Hansen had gone all-in for $156,000 with a K-J unsuited, and Laak called him with a K-Q of spades for most of his stack. The Unabomber was a 3-1 favorite to eliminate Hansen before the flop, but the flop came J-3-2 (one spade), making Hansen and his pair of jacks a heavy favorite. To come back and win the pot, Laak needed to catch either a queen or running spades for a backdoor flush. When a seven of spades came on the turn, the Unabomber kneeled down behind the dealer in praying position and said, if only the dealer would turn up a flush-completing spade on the river, "I'll wash your car."

I guess you can make a case for the Devilfish being a bad boy, too. Though he dresses better than 99.9 percent of all players -- he usually wears a suit when he makes a televised final table -- and is very well-mannered, he knows how to trash-talk with the best of them and he's got a wonderful "bad boy" look going, kind of an emaciated Eric Clapton thing. And, according to legend, he spent some time in the clink during his formative years.

Esfandiari's claim to being a bad boy is the poker wave -- sometimes, after winning a big hand, he'll wriggle and wave his arms at the chip pile. But he really has to strain, big-time, to make the bad-boy thing work. For example, in a "character-revealing" mini-documentary between hands, he stares at the camera with his best tough-guy look and says, "I really don't like it when someone is trying to out-aggress me." English teachers across the land are still cringing in fear.

And Darden as a bad boy is a total mystery. I've watched him on TV and played with him several times at Foxwoods in Act III tournaments, and he is among the quietest, most polite players around.

If it were me, I'd have invited Phil "Super Brat" Hellmuth (the John McEnroe of Poker), Mike "The Mouth" Matusow, Tony G., Scott Fischman and John Bonetti, along with Laak, to participate in a poker death match behind locked doors, with the winner to be the last guy who still has his hearing -- and/or sanity.

PROBLEM NO. 4: WHAT WERE THEY PLAYING FOR?

If, indeed, there even was one, at no point during the show was the prize structure explained -- not at the beginning, not when players were knocked out, not even at the end when a bunch of "police officers" came in and dumped bundles of cash on the table between the two finalists, Hansen and Darden.

So what, you say? Considering that one of the lures of watching poker on TV is the ever-increasing prize money, this was rather peculiar. It also might have helped explain one of the strangest plays ever made by a top-flight player.

Hansen and Esfandiari were the two chip leaders, with about $450,000 each (the six players had started the broadcast with $250,000 in chips). Esfandiari raised the blinds to $29,000 with 7-7. Hansen, with a lowly 10-8 suited -- he's famous, or maybe infamous, for aggressively playing junk -- made it $100,000. After thinking about it for a few moments, all the while casting suspicious glances at Hansen, Esfandiari went all in for $434,000. As the tournament director started to count Esfandiari's chips, Hansen said, "It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to count it. I got a 10-high, so there's no way I'm gonna fold. Okay, I call."

Needless to say, when they flipped the cards over, everyone was in shock. There was almost no hand that Esfandiari could conceivably have had that would not have dominated Hansen's 10-8. Any two cards higher than a 10 would be favored by about 2-1. Any two high cards that included a 10 would be favored by about 3-1. A pair of 10s, nines or eights would be heavily favored; A-A, K-K, Q-Q or J-J even more so. Even a 10-9 would be about a 3-1 favorite. In fact, the only conceivable hands that Hansen would be close to a horse race with -- and even those would be slight favorites over his 10-8 -- would be 7-7, 6-6, 5-5, 4-4, 3-3 and 2-2. In other words, this was just about as bad a call as you will ever see, and Hansen surely knew that.

Of course, the flop came 8-6-5, giving Hansen the lead with a pair of eights, though Esfandiari also had an open-ended straight draw. When his draw failed to materialize -- the turn was an A, the river a three -- Esfandiari was out.

"You're the best, Gus," was his exit line, and I'm not sure whether he was being sarcastic or not.

Gus, for his part, looked a bit embarrassed by the whole thing. But the question is: Why did he call?

Well, according to speculation I read on a couple of poker chat sites and heard at Foxwoods later in the week, the total prize pool for "The Bad Boys of Poker" was a free seat for the winner in the WPT championship tournament, worth $25,000. Since Hansen had already won a free seat into the championship, he had little, if anything, to play for. (I'm guessing that the pros got an appearance fee from the WPT, however, or some other consideration for showing up.)

If so, that renders a few things disingenuous, to say the least, such as Sexton's exultant cry after the hand: "There's a new magic man in town, and his name's Gus Hansen!" And Esfandiari's post-hand comment to interviewer Shana Hiatt: "I can't imagine how he made that call. Maybe he sees something that I can't."

Which brings us to ...

PROBLEM NO. 5: WHAT IS VINCE VAN PATTEN TALKING ABOUT?
Van Patten, the color commentator for WPT broadcasts, is essentially a mythmaker, heavily favoring a verbal style that might be called "Hollywood Pom-Pom." Every play that works, no matter how ill-conceived, is brilliant poker; every player, no matter how poorly he plays, is great.

Even Mark Richards. (I'm not picking on Richards, who never claimed to be any good. He was obviously nervous and in waaaaaay over his head -- just happy to be there, garnering his 15 minutes of instant fame.)

When Richards was eliminated -- finishing in third place, mostly by folding almost every hand -- Van Patten praised him for the "great" poker he had played. I don't know, maybe he played great in hands that were not shown. But here's what he did on the two key hands he played that were shown.

Hansen opens for $23,000 with A-7 unsuited. Richards just calls with A-Q unsuited (I don't know any player who would not have thrown in a substantial raise at that point .. not any). And so, Esfandiari, who almost surely would have folded his K-10 unsuited if Richards had raised, called.

The flop came Q-J-7. Everybody checked. (I don't know any player who would not have thrown in a substantial raise at that point with Richards' A-Q, which gave him top pair with the best kicker -- but the flop also could easily have given Hansen or Esfandiari a draw, which is why Richards needed to raise to make them pay if they were, in fact, on a draw.) Because Richards once again failed to raise, Esfandiari was still in the hand when the turn came ...

... a nine, completing his straight.

Esfandiari then bet $54,000. Richards folded, a good laydown to be sure. But the hand should have been over long before that, which made Sexton's post-hand comment -- "That's amazing how he played that hand to lose as little as he did!" -- more than a bit disingenuous.

Key Hand No. 2:

The Unabomber raised the blinds to $24,000 with A-9 of clubs. Richards called with a K-9 unsuited.

The flop came king of spades, three of spades, seven of clubs. Laak bet $40,000 ... and Richards just called. (I don't know any player who would not have thrown in a substantial raise at that point.) "Doesn't raise, just calls," muttered Sexton, darkly.

The turn card was an eight of clubs, giving Laak a four flush. He checked, and so did Richards. (I don't know any player ... etc.) Sexton: "I'm amazed at both those checks."

On the river arrived ... the king of clubs, giving Richards top set, but giving the Unabomber a backdoor flush. He went all-in. Richards, of course, called, leaving him crippled, chip-wise.

Even Van Patten recognized this as a poorly-played hand. "He let Phil in, played it weak. There's a great poker lesson here: If you're gonna play with the big boys, you can't play passive."

So I ask you: Great poker, or what?

And if not great poker, what the heck was Van Patten talking about? And why?

PROBLEM NO. 6: WHAT DOES IT ALL PORTEND?
Two worries.

The lesser of the two is that more players will be encouraged to act badly at the tables, since being a "bad boy" is now an uncluttered path to television appearances. Get ready for legions of Unabomber wannabes.

The big worry is this: The WPT doesn't seem to think good poker is enough -- or even that people want to watch good poker. In the classic television progression, everything has to be gimmicked up, and then gimmicked up even more. Otherwise, don't you know, people will get bored and turn to whatever is the latest and greatest new thing.

I hate to say it, but I'm afraid the circus is coming to town. Up next: Three top pros who curse a lot against three actors -- like Robin Williams -- who have played creatures from another world on TV or in the movies. They could call it "The Nasty Boys vs. the Aliens from Outer Space for the Poker Championship of the Universe."

CORRECTION
In last week's mailbag, I mis-identified Gary Carson, the author of an e-mail (which was subsequently removed from the mailbag), as Gary Carson, the noted poker writer. My bad, and my apologies to both men.

HEY, IRS: HOW JAY IS DOING IN HIS NEW CAREER
Last week: lost $365.

CTD (career-to-date): plus $36,379.

Jay Lovinger, a former managing editor of Life and a founding editor of Page 2, is writing on his poker adventures for ESPN.com and also writing a book for HarperCollins. You can watch the 2004 World Series of Poker Tuesday nights at 9 p.m. ET on ESPN.