• You would have known what Phil Hellmuth did on ESPN. As in, Favorito: "You got a few boos" after your introduction. Hellmuth: "After what I did on the ESPN last night, if they boo me I don't blame 'em."

• You could join in the argument between Hellmuth and Smith about why the Q-7 is called "the computer hand" in Texas Hold 'em.

Wow. To think that early this year, I wondered if a musical for Red Hat ladies was casting its audience net too narrowly.

But "Hats!" was a conventional stage offering. "The Real Deal" is a game show that aims to pull you right through the TV screen to sit at the table with celebrity pros. Think "Pleasantville" or "The Purple Rose of Cairo" for the La-Z-Boy World Series of Poker player.

Game shows are still a new and uncrowded niche on the Strip, pioneered by the live version of "The Price Is Right" at Bally's two years ago. (A second title, "The $250,000 Game Show Spectacular," came and went.)

"Price" no longer uses key pads to let the audience play along, but touch-screen consoles are key to the "Real Deal" appeal. Yes, there is a ticketing option that allows you to watch The Venetian action without playing along. But it's a sucker play, unless producers care to bring the opening night spectacle of Mike "Mannix" Connors trumping serious poker player Jennifer Tilly.

On this more typical afternoon, Favorito randomly called up some personality-challenged amateurs and one local pro who goes by the handle of Coach Roberto. A guy wearing a Washington Redskins hog-snout hat was passed over.

"It's not 'Let's Make a Deal.' You picked the wrong show, Tiger," quipped Favorito, an insult comic who has his own show at the Flamingo Las Vegas, and who replaced Paul Rodriguez as "front position" host.

Those called to the stage play a live game against two Las Vegas-based pros; on this day Smith and Hellmuth (who also hosts part time). Favorito's jokes quickly faded to the background as the action got rolling at a pace that can lose novices. Audience members share the same two hole cards, but individually choose whether to fold or keep betting their pre-allotted points for "the turn" and "the river" cards.

Near the end, the crowd member with the highest point total is called up for a showdown against the table's last survivor. The new arrival has the advantage of being coached by one of the pros, but Hellmuth and "Qgirl" didn't stop Coach Roberto from winning this one.

Any ticket-buyer who beats both pros gets a silver Stefano Canturi bracelet. The secondary prizes also are generous, at least in the early going. We'll see if ticket sales can support the flow of spa treatments and DVD players.

Even I won something, which was pretty amazing for a guy whose poker name never showed up in the Top 15 point totals. But the game onstage is interrupted by four dumb-luck games of five-card pick-'ems. My console yielded an electronic full house. Once I realized the call for "New Shole" was mispronouncing my "News Hole" handle, I was awarded a trio of how-to books signed by the pros.

I didn't keep them because I didn't buy my ticket, though they could only help. When I later asked Favorito if it ever makes sense to fold an electronic hand not backed up by real money, his detailed answer somehow turned into Chinese. It had something to do with the fact that the audience isn't always going to win five hands, a feat that also won each of us a poster.

The generosity didn't end there. At the end, thanks to some kind of side bet between the two pros, Hellmuth stepped off the stage and handed the Redskins hog-snout guy a wad of cash to go buy himself some champagne.

Let's make a deal now, Vinnie.

Contact reporter Mike Weatherford at mweatherford@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0288.