At the start of the tournament, she was a curiosity, a distraction. "It's nice that they let people like that play, I guess, I'll be happy to take her money," people would joke. Some tried to go easy on her, others thought they could easily bully her with crazy bluffs. But the young, steely-faced, oddly intimidating young woman in the wheelchair, using an aide to help her view her cards and throw in her chips, took full advantage, busting player after player as she amassed a huge stack of chips.

Days later, to everyone's surprise except for those paying attention, she was at the final table. One of the more obnoxious players tried to get her disqualified, citing an obscure rule that she needed to handle the cards and chips herself, without help. "Have it your way, asshole," she sneered, asking the tournament director if there was a rule against having her lay on the table. Apparently there wasn't, and three hands later she'd busted the objecting player as well.

Hours later, there I was, heads up with her, holding about forty percent of the chips in play. First place paid over a million more than second, and I made a generous offer to chop the winnings more evenly, that any sane player would have taken. But not her. "Ha, no thanks...I'm used to beating the odds," she said with a smirk, a rare show of emotion for her. Then, a few hands later...

"Check," she said, casually tapping her chin on the table as soon as the turn card hit the table. I sat stone-faced as I double-checked my hole cards, KJ of diamonds, my heart racing. I made a modest half-pot-sized bet, hoping not to chase her away, only for her to immediately push her nose into her pile of chips, spilling them everywhere. "All in."

We were heads-up. There's just no chance she had it. Maybe two pair or a set that she was overvaluing, maybe a semi-bluff with just the ace...she was just too quick, too bold about it. "Call," I said confidently after a few seconds of thought, slamming my flush down on the table.

She blinked a few times, then smiled wide for the first time all night, delicately picking up her hole cards in her mouth and spitting them out onto the table face up. A5 of diamonds. My heart sank.

But not all was lost. As I graciously stood by and accepted my 2nd place check while she was presented her gaudy, oversized one, and had the winner's bracelet hung from a chain on her neck, she nodded to the aide, who quietly handed me a key.

"You played good today, kid. You have promise, not to mention you're the only one not to talk shit about me," she smiled up at me from her chair. "If you want, stop by room 456 later, and I'll give you some pointers," she whispered, with a raised eyebrow.