The Main Event, having survived in grand style what many predicted to be a far drier couple of years following the crackdown on online gaming, is now in the process of building yet again toward a finale which ranks at the top of the poker world's annual calendar.
The hundreds of players leaping over the first hurdle of the payout bubble will start the ball of tension rolling as the prize money grows and the field thins, until the final 10 players reach a bubble of far greater significance - that of the Final Table.
With the population on the rail expanding exponentially, the TV coverage reaching a frantic pitch, and the eyes of every wannabe Moneymaker on the $9 million first prize and the handful of players ready to compete for it ... everything will stop.
Supporters of the final nine will have to put their country's little flags in storage, and save up their cheers and heckles for almost four months (by which time they may have lost some of their pithy spontaneity).
For the poker aficionados swarming over the Rio at the moment like cash-fed locusts, that is surely akin to being told that the ending of the movie you've come all the way to Vegas to watch, or even participate in, won't be ready for release until November.
The cast might be assembled, the atmosphere as intense as it gets in the airplane hangar of the Amazon Room, but there will be no champion crowned until the coronation can take place live on TV after the full Series has aired.
This is the first year that the delayed final table is scheduled to be implemented, and it has come in for its share of criticism, as well as gaining approval from the majority - or at least from those behind the scenes who run the biggest show in poker and have made it a TV fixture.
One issue raised is that of the authenticity of the game itself. But fears that autumnal coaching might "unfairly" raise the bar for the play on the final don't really have that much of a basis in reality.
A hard-fought battle between unknown players who've spent nearly four months obsessively playing and watching will make for more interesting commentating than one between unknown players who may have had little or no previous experience, either on TV or at the end of deep-stack tournaments.
If the standard of play escalates thanks to finalists having been given a nice long interlude in which to sweat over their upcoming battle, so much the better.
What happens, though, if a finalist just ups and leaves/dies/decides to withdraw from the world and the World Series to live a life of penitence in a monastery? An empty seat with a chip stack in front of it on the WSOP final table is worth quite a bit.
Do that player's chips go to a lucky runner-up? Is she blinded out while the first 16 hours of televised play see the other eight taking turns picking up her dead money? Is his stack divided pro rata between the survivors? Or do they find a convincing stand-in?
Those who reach the final stage of the tournament are more than likely to be hounded by media and promoters, particularly at the end of July and beginning of November, and presumably quite intensively in the interim.
A family business owner who satellited in for $10 and now has a shot at multiple millions is a great story by anyone's standard, but while Patrik Antonius and Daniel Negreanu might be used to marketing themselves as poker products, unfazed by the attention of press, nippers and hangers-on, it could be a fairly disruptive change to a life unused to it.
Poker, and televised poker especially, is big business now - you have only to look in the Gaming Life Expo attached to the Rio's convention center like some kind of huge, garishly colored parasite, to see that.
It will be interesting to see if a suitable level of excitement can really be maintained for nearly half a year while the plan, presumably to increase viewing figures of the live final, cryogenically freezes the action and springs the finale of the event back to life in time to hook another few thousand runners for next year's events.