The World Series is an emotional rollercoaster for any player involved. Walking around the Amazon room, it won't be long before you hear screaming or see a player jumping up and down at receiving a miracle card to make a hand.
Daniel Alaei is another story. The WSOP bracelet winner and cash game specialist sits in front of over 110,000 chips about five hours into the second day, good for top 20 in the room. He sports a hat pulled low, big aviator sunglasses, and an ipod with the best of DJ Tiesto. I have been watching Alaei for half an hour, and he hasn't moved his body an inch or spoken a single word.
I continue watching, and Alaei puts a player all-in for a little more than 10,000. The player calls and flips over KK. Alaei makes the most movement he has all day, flipping over QQ and gently knuckling the table twice while nodding at his opponent. The door card to the flop comes a Q, and the other card on the flop is stuck behind a 3. The card is revealed by the dealer to be another Q, giving Alaei quads and leaving his opponent drawing to running kings. Alaei softly knuckles the table twice again, expressing not a single iota of emotion.
On the other side of the room, Shirley Williams, David Williams' mother, is all-in on the short stack. Her opponent calls, and Williams flips over KK, while her opponent shows AQ. Williams tells the dealer to be good, but the flop comes A-high, giving her opponent a pair of aces and leaving her with only two outs. She gets up from the table and sighs, "What are you gonna do?" The turn comes a blank, but the river is a miracle king. The crowd gasps and Williams screams and begins dancing. The dance goes on for about fifteen seconds, as she looks into the ESPN camera and says, "Thank Jesus!"
Williams begins to stack her chips, then says, "I think I'm going to cry." True to her word, the waterworks start and she begins sniffling for the next few minutes, to the amusement of her table-mates. The gentleman with the AQ smiles and tells her, "Nice hand."