Irish Poker Cup

Hell of a weekend, an absolute humdinger, holy shit was I drunk on Saturday night, the Galway captain and I went on a little bit of a bender, as did most of the 310 player that had taken part in the weekends main event. The crack at the sit n’ go tables on Saturday night was fantastic, you certainly wouldn’t want to have been the sensitive type, as the offence was being piled on by the barrow load. I should apologise to the ginger from Wexford that I meet in the €200 multi table, I’m not going to, but I definitely should. I actually split 2 of the €200 multi tables, to salvage a weekend that was well and truly in the crapper, yeehaw.

The Highlights of the weekend for me were:

I got to meet the impresario for the first time since I pointed out a small weakness in his game on this blog a few weeks ago. As expected, he thanked me for the help and said he had been working on that part of his game ever since. We then decided that the best way to test Mr. L(en)’s new game was to have a last longer bet in the €400 freezeout on the Saturday. I unfortunately was unable to resist the urge to get the chips into the middle after playing so tight in the teams event, with the result that I was out after about 20 minutes.

This week’s event saw the unveiling of Ireland’s newest pro poker player, not so much a new player but a new name, yes ladies and gentlemen the player formally know as Tony “The Shafter” AKA Tony “The Cartoon” Rafter has , and this is very important, renamed HIMSELF, Tony “The Pirate, no I’m not taking the piss I’m deadly serious” Rafter. Where to start on this uummmmm. I have had a lot of nicknames over the past 30 or so years and they have rarely been complementary. Some examples would be, Shortfinge, Dom, Chops, Shithead and currently Duck, and these are the nice ones. All of these names have 1 thing in common, they were given to me by other people and this, as far as I can see, is the unbreakable rule when it comes to nicknames, you cannot give one to yourself. I mean I would much prefer to be called “El Bandito” then Duck, but what ya going to do. I don’t lay all of the blame with Tony “The Pirate, please try not to laugh in my face” Rafter, as we must remember that he is close personal friends with one of Irelands most famous players, Paul “The Hangman, this is actually a registered trade mark” Roper, who is currently trying to put together an Irish version of the Hendon Mob, I can only assume they will be called something like “The Irish X-Men” or “The Justice League”. I’m just waiting for the day he pays some guy to play theme music as he enters the poker room. But this is our big chance to help out. I think we should have a competition to name this Irish Hendon mob for “The Hangman, yes I actually paid a film crew to follow me around Monte Carlo” Roper. I will start a thread on the Irishpokerforum.ie. and Boards. Please post any suggestions there.

Mr N(icky), I can only assume, was the most disappointed man in the Citywest, not only was his the first team to be completely eliminated from the event, but it appears that due to a lack of communication about a planned protest of the event by the Limerick team over an extra €10 on the registration fee, 2 of there team, the Brothers C(osgrove) chained themselves to the railing outside the casino in Galway and missed the event completely (one can only assume there is a Darwin award somewhere in their future). But despite this massive stroke of good fortune which allowed them to replace the Brothers C(osgrove) with 2 random people off the street, the team simply underperformed. I can only assume that Mr. N(icky) will soon announce his resignation a Limerick Captain and not make himself available for selection for next years team after what has been described by some as, "a complete failure as a player and a leader".

By the way Leitrim won the team event.

Oh ya, nearly forgot, the 20 minutes I lasted in the €400 was 15 minutes longer then the impresario. Thanks Mr L(en).

Lord Protect Me From Optimist and Lunatics.

It taken until now for me to get over the Westwood on Wednesday. I can never just lose the easy way, oh no not this shithead. Pair against to suited over cards, could he not just hit an Ace, no, runner runner flush, 2 big cards against 2 little, an Optimist, Mr F(intan) of course, Lunatic, (not bitter) could he hit a small pair, no, straight on the river. But the worst is the Optimist Lunitic, Mr A(lbert), who, after I bet out my top pair on the flop, raises with bottom pair like a man that had already seen the 2 pair coming on the turn. And just to put the tin hat on it The Nuts(ginger from Athlone) cracked may Aces with A5 (dead on the turn), there was plenty watching the hand, nobody gave me a chance pre-flop.

But today is a new day and it Irish Poker Cup day. Off to the City West to represent Galway. Hopefully the Westwood took care of this weeks allotment of shitty luck, Ya right. Anyway every character in the game will be there, so there will be plenty of material for next week.

Tune in Monday to find out all about the story the other sites won’t share.

The Verbal’s

The majority of poker players say sweet FA when they are at the table, and then you have the talkers. We’ve all meet them at the table and for the most part they make the game a more enjoyable experience. I can tell you for a fact that a tournament without them is the most horrible experience.

Case in point, the €300 Freezeout at the IPT in June, after sitting quietly at a table I had been moved to for 20 minutes I made a raise, the dealer looked at me for the first time since my arrival and in a surprised tone said “Oh hello, I didn’t recognise you there”. (Its not that I’m famous like Mr N(icky), it just the fact that I was one of his bosses that tipped him of to my identity). I simply explained that today I had decided to disguise myself as an incredibly handsome fat man, whereas normally I am just an annoying little runt (oops another reference to the prima donna, better be careful or he’ll come looking for royalties). Ok perhaps not the funniest joke ever told at the poker table but Jesus not one player even blinked. After a few hours of this you’re welcoming the warm embrace of death.

Anyway back to the talkers, I have broken them down into 3 categories:
The Player, the Gent and the guy I met last night.

The Player makes talking a part of his game and without a doubt the best I have even seen is Mr F(intan), whom I am sure you all know. His ability to talk a player into calling or folding is amazing, but the most impressive thing I think is the way he gets a player to show his card to him at the end of a hand. He truly is a master of the gab, and it is a huge part of his game. Some would argue that it is the only part of his game, but it’s not my place to judge his awful plays or the rancid hands he chooses to make them with.

The Gent is the player you always want at your table, his foremost intention is to enjoy his tournament. Playful ribbing of his fellow players and the absolute ripping the piss out of the above mentioned "The Player" is the order of the night. You almost don’t mind losing your chips to The Gent, almost.

And then we have the guy I met last night, you’ve all meet him in one form or other, he is invariably young and always freakishly dense. The guy just can’t shut his gob, verbal diarrhoea of the worst kind. Every hand he has an opinion, advice or a critic and nothing you can do will stop him. If you get loud and aggressively rude to him he will just get louder, in an attempt to drown you out. If you start taking the piss out of him, he will either be too stupid to notice or he will attempt to take the piss out of you in return, but of course he is so bad at it, that with every word you can feel the old ulcers starting to flare. The more you insist he shut his face the more he genuinely believes you jealous of his obvious talent. I often wonder how this guy hasn’t tripped and accidentally strangled himself with his own lips.

Last night he was in Athlone and by God was he on form, world class form. A regular in the game that I know to be a rock managed to last 49 minutes listening to this guy before he called an all-in on the blind in the hope he would lose and be able to escape the agony. Thankfully his wishes were granted and as he stood up from the table a content smile spread across his face, he had no pity for the rest of us.

Something has to be done and I am sorry to say I am at a loss. Does anyone really know how to shut this guy up, or is this like the search for eternal youth, am I seeking Holy Grail of poker.

Bluffing.

An art form in the game of poker, and last night I was lucky enough meet one of the greatest bluffers of them all. As with all bluffs, if they get through you a genius, if your exposed you feel like a complete tit. Last night we got to see the tit end of one of the best bluffs I have ever seen.

A well know poker journalist (to save any further embarrassment we won’t name names. But you know who you are Len) who writes for PPP online poker site got into any interesting debate at the end of a hand, which is the better hand, a house of Kings over 4's or Kings over 8's. He held the k4 at the time. Don't get me wrong, he didn't take a complete leap from his senses, not for a moment did he feel he had won the pot, but the debate about whether or not he was entitled to half of the chips in the centre went on a little to long for comfort.

Often I have misread a hand I hear you cry, take it easy on the poor guy you say. Oh and what is this bluff I was talking about. Well here is an excerpt from this players bio on PPP. "Poker player extraordinaire, actor, impresario and beloved member of the paddypowerpoker.com family! Pro-Player Mr L(en) is not only a force to be reckoned with at the poker table he is also a larger than life personality who has gained the respect of his peers and the love of the team at paddypowerpoker.com."
And in truth he doesn't even know the Poker Ladder. I put it to you, surely this is one of the greatest bluffs of all time. I tip my hat to you sir. Makes me wonder though, does my Doc really know what he’s doing when I am undergoing my prostate exam.

The impresario is also captain of the Mayo team in PokerEvents up coming Irish Poker Cup. Shortly after explaining the Poker Ladder to Mr L(en), I was offered a place on the team, which for personal reasons I had to refuse, a desire to hold on to what little remains of my sanity. Mr L(en) has always maintained that I am the unluckiest poker player he has ever meet, but I feel after last night there may be 9 Mayo men who feel their in with a shot at that title.

But the impresario is a top class gentleman, so I implore PokerEvents to post copies of the poker Ladder on the walls in the Citywest in the hope that our friend can avoid further embarrassment. I am sure those Dublin player would be far less sensitive to his feeling then I.

I always wondered what it was like to be a tosser, now I know.
I have my own Blog.
Why you may ask have I joined the ranks of those suffering from the cyber induced impotence that is Blogging?
Is it to bore you all with mind numbing bad beat stories.
Perhaps its to analyse the sanity of the players that week after week in blinding flashes of stupidity make crazy calls and knock me out of tournaments.
Or maybe I will give a voice to the legion of luckless and talentless players of which I am one, that the rest of you anonymously refer to as Fish.
Oh god how I wish it was something so noble, but the real reason is this seems to be a side effect of working a day job in front of a computer.
So much time and so little will to live.

Ever since I retired from the high flying glamour of running poker tournaments and took up the day job I have found myself doing things I swore I never would.
It starts with small simple things like reading a post on a forum.
Soon you find yourself checking on it every day, then maybe before and after lunch, until
within the week the browser window with the forum never closes.
The it happens, some idiot posts something so offence to the intelligence of mankind in general that you feel honour bound to spring into action and correct this injustice.
I mean my god man what if someone was to read it an actually believe it and maybe even pass on these wildly inaccurate statements as fact.

The post that broke me was someone suggesting that poker tournament organisers should listen to the wishes of players. Maybe, if there is an unexpected lull in the mayhem that is the running of a tournament, you might think briefly about what the player might prefer.
But to actually listen to them, you must be out of your mind. Nothing would ever get done. There is no creature to have ever graced this beautiful planet that can moan, whinge and bitch like a poker player. They could win Olympic medals in it.

Hang on, sorry about that, started ranting slightly off topic, plenty of time for that later.
So here I am, finally fallen into the abyss, no longer a person but a festering opinion waiting to inflict itself on any cyber traveler unfortunate enough to happen by.

So another adventure tonight for me in the Westwood, I predict my first win tonight(this prediction is likely to become a regular here). Promise not to tell you about a single hand tomorrow, but if any of the usual suspects get up to anything interesting I will let you know.

Hey this might be fun...

Christ I'm lost forever, remember me fondly.