skalie.org

Monday 5^th of October

It’s 8 am and a beautiful autumn day in Ireland. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. A slight frost stretches across the fields. In the distance is the majestic figure of Lee pope chasing someone across the car park before SLAP!!!! The silence is broken and he falls flat on his face……………………….

20 HOURS EARLIER

Sunday 4^th of October

It was the final day of the main event and although many of the attendees had departed the place was still buzzing, so was my head.

We wandered over to the main hotel to watch the racing where we met up with Julian, Jeff and Kev. We decided to wander into town to grab some lunch and Watch the Arc de Triumph.

200 euros later and it was back to the hotel. Why do I listen to peoples tips. Julian had lumped on “Sea of Stars” which came in at around 4/5. In typical poker player style he was still disappointed with the result as he “Shudda had more on.”

Upon our return we bumped into Lee Pope. He’d had something of a sleepless night hearing two Irishmen arguing at silly o clock in the morning in the adjacent room. He banged violently on the dividing door.

“Geeeeezusss paddy, someone’s hiding in the cupboard!” He heard one say.

“Who’s that?”

“It’s Me!” he replied.

There was silence. Realising this could be quite confusing for them he decided to not make matters worse and left them too it.

We decided a round of golf seemed like a good idea.

Jeff declined the offer.

“Why hit a ball down a field just to chase after it, if you want it what the hell you doing knocking all the way down there.” He said.

Now, when I say golf, I mean pitch and putt. Kila and Kev joined us as caddies. When I say caddies I mean to offer moral support. When I say moral support, I mean to laugh at every fluffed shot we make. When I say we, I mean every fluff shot that I make.

We agreed on match play, with a hole having to be won outright to claim the point. This would save on the complication of keeping scores. No one was in a fit state to do that.

Tenner for the match and a fiver bonus if you made a green on your own. Pride was obviously more important than money for this match up. Besides we were all terrified the other bastards were hustling.

Jules and me knocked ours to within 40 feet of the flag. Sounds impressive for the hole was only 120 feet long and the green was only 20 feet wide. Lee caught a beauty and knocked his some 80 feet passed the green. Unhappy with this, he hit his next shot almost all the way back to the tee. Obviously he wanted to have another go at the green.

Julian took an early lead and was 2 holes up by the 4^th. However pure grit and determination had pulled me back to within one shot by the 9^th. Lee had learnt to control his mighty swing and managed to fluke a few holes too and by the time we got to the 13^th hole it was all to play for. With Julian on 4 holes and me and Lee back on 3 we were all in with a shout.

Julian somehow scrapes through on the 15^th after an unlucky bounce left me pressed up against a holly bush. With a 2 shot lead the pivotal hole played out.

On the 15^th Julian hit a lovely tee shot to drop just 6 feet from the flag and looked sure to take the fiver bonus’s. However, with skill and determination I played a low shot, skimmed it across the grass to pop up nicely on the green to deny him. At around 18 feet away I eyed up my putt. I knew if Julian won this hole he’d be 3 up with 3 play and uncatchable. I studied the break and stroked it in with Vintage Faldo-esk style. The pressure was too much for Jules as he fluffed his putt, pulling me back to within 1.

On the next hole I tried to settle poor Julian’s nerves. He was obviously shaken by this set back.

“Look mate, try not to think about that last hole. About how you would almost certainly have won had I not played such masterful golf. You just hold yourself together now.”

He fired it 20 feet over the green into the rough. Holding my nerve I made a 3 foot putt to pull level.

On the 17^th Julian hit a cracker. Just shy of the green he was on for 2. He was just 9 feet from the hole and had 2 shots to win. I tried to settle his nerves.

“Look mate, we all know you should have had this won by now, but you can make up for all that by simply putting this. No presh, take ya time and your one up with one to play, you can do it.”

My encouragement didn’t work. He tapped in 3 feet.

Julian’s meltdown on the 17^th let Lee in for a win. And with the scores at 4, 4, 3 if he could win the last one it would be all to play for. Alas, I hit a peach of a tee shot, landing just inside the fringe of one of the world’s most difficult greens, taking the nice fiver bonus off each of them. Having seen such flair, my opponents were obviously deflated and sent their tee shots viciously wide. Leaving me 2 puts for the win which I duly converted. Leaving me a deserved and gracious winner to the applause of all those around.

It was the last night and the main bar was shutting up early. We decided to have a drink in the main cardroom. As I have said before the venue is exceptional not least for the fact a mezzanine and balcony surrounds the main room which is ideal for spectators. Equipped with a bar and pool tables we could watch the action from there.

Julian challenged me to a game of pool. He argued over what odds I should give him demanding 3/1 from me. I managed to knock him down to 13/10. However after seeing how he held is cue with the same grip he did his golf club I needn’t have bothered.

By 6 am the poker had drawn to a close and the bar had called last orders. Kila had retired for the night and Lee had taken his good Lady back to the room. He swore heds be back out but this seemed rather unlikely.

Several of the Ladbrokes staff were still around and I thought it prudent to get some drinks in before the bar shut. Not having time to take their orders I got 4 Guinness and 4 Large Jacks and coke. Hey if they didn’t like those I am sure I could find a use myself.

They didn’t like them!

Wondering how I could consume all these myself and still get up for my flights I found Lee back, talking with Adam Fergerson, the new Ladbrokes VIP manager. Impressed with their staying power I rewarded them with a share of my spoils.

By 7 am out drinks were gone and so was everyone else. We appeared to be the only people left baring those who were getting up to check out of the hotel. We ventured across the road to my hotel to order room service drinks. The porter was less than pleased but after a tenner tip he eventually agreed. As we sat in reception waiting, he walked straight passed us holding our tray.

“Where you going” We asked.

“Taking the drinks to your room.”

“Are you insane, Kila is in bed, she’ll go booloo! Give em here!”

“You can’t drink them here” He argued.

We had to follow him up the elevator and retrieve them on our room floor. Poured the coke into the glasses and then caught the next lift down. Covertly slipping out the front door while he wasn’t looking.

Now I know I am running bad at present, but how unlucky is it to get stuck with the last people to go to bed every time I go out. Why is it always me who gets stuck with people who can’t go to bed at a reasonable time.

Now It may have been the drink but I notice a stain around Lee’s mouth which I could only describe as jam. I pointed it out at which point Adam proclaimed to have mentioned it early. You aint caught leprosy have you at which point he tried to infect me. I ran for my life, in fact it’s possible the first time I’ve run anywhere in over ten years. At least since I stopped catching a bus to work.

The useless bastard still couldn’t catch me and concentrated his futile efforts instead on Adam. Chasing him off into the distance before going arse over tit onto the floor. Still stood by the door I was obviously concerned for his well being. However by now he was miles away and we still hadn’t got to the bottom of whether he was contagious. I decided the prudent thing to do was retire to bed, I’ll let the VIP host deal with it. That’s what they are for.

Monday 5^th of October (After sleep this time)

Kila was up and packed and ready to go.

“Are you getting up”

“When they ring and tell us to leave” I grunted.

Almost instantly

“brrrrrrriiiiiinggggg brrrrriiiiiiiiinggggggggg” went the phone.

“Bollox, how do they know?”

I reluctantly dragged myself up and made our way down to the hotel bar.

Tim offered me a drink but I settled for a cup of tea. I was feeling a little off colour and was sure I was coming down with something. A few people were the same so maybe there was something going round.

Lee was nowhere to be seen. I tried to call but there was no reply. Either he was hurt, more hungover than me or the leprosy had finished him off. He was hungover!

Fortunately our flight home was hitching a ride on Kev’s Jet with Julian. A 20 minute taxi ride was much better than the hour and a half from cork. And considering our tender state somewhat more survivable.

The pilot was waiting in the car park to help with our luggage. Very cool! And we made our way though the grind of airport security. Nearly 3 minutes It took! What a pain.

The Ryannaire flight had landed to take everyone else back to Stansted and the pilot ever so politely waited on the runway before taxiing to the terminal to let us through.

The flight back was not only quick but very pleasant. The views as we crossed the Irish Sea were fantastic and the Isle of Man was in clear view.

“I that one of the Channel Islands” Julian asked……………………

Saturday 3^rd October.

The set-up in the hotel was fantastic. Between Ladbrokes and Big Slick they had certainly organised things well. As well as the poker Ladbrokes had organised a Bookmakers within the hotel.

With the dog tip, which seemed apparent most of the room was on, they must have taking a small bashing I turned up to collect mine and Julian’s winnings.

We had taken a price at 6/4 but the bookie tried to pay me only 5/4, stating a none-runner in the race. He told me the prices revert to SP. I argued that there is no rule 4 (rule 4 is a betting rule for a horse racing when a horse is pulled out just before the off) on the dogs and my price stands. He agreed to pay me 6/4 to shut me up, but assured me I was wrong.

I enquired with Kate what she thought the rule was and she thought I was right, but checked back with Ladbrokes head office. Turns out the rules do state that prices revert to SP in the case of a none- runner and me and Julian owed the bookie 50euros each. I was about to suggest we return the money when Julian informed me he’d done his “Conkers” in. Oh, well! Guess they got it anyway, the bookies always do.

Bolton were playing Spurs on the telly and at 10/11 Spurs really did look like the bet of the day. Before I had even put the slip in my pocket, Bolton scored. DOH!

The poker was slow. I picked up no cards to mention and slowly wiffled away. Apart from taking out “HamsterBoy” with AQ vs his 66 (spiking my ace on the river) I won no significant pots (And he was shortstacked the useless…………)

My mate Steve “Slim-Gifted” Trafford joined my table (sorry always makes me giggle when I write his alias, oh the irony). Pushing under the gun for around 20k with 5s5d, he started a huge pot. A guy behind re-pushed for 60k, holding ak of diamonds. The small blind dwelled for an age before passing Jacks and the big blind called with jacks. The flop came 4d 6s 7d. The turn was the 8 of diamonds, giving Slim the straight but also giving the AK the flush. He still had one out though, the 6 of diamonds would give him the straight flush. The river gets turned and would you believe it, the 2 of clubs. He was out, but a fine effort none the less.

My tournament finally came to an end when my 67 got cracked.

To be fair an aggressive kid had come to the table and not failed to raise from the cut off or button. With the blinds at 1000/2000 and a running ante of 200 he raised from the button on my big blind. I had decided to push my last 20 odd thousand in regardless, knowing the vast majority of hands he would be raising with he would fold, unfortunately AQ of clubs wasn’t one of them. At least I had 2 live cards but when the flop came A Q 2, I knew I was in bad shape. When the turn was neither a 6 or 7 time it was time to retire to best place in the hotel. The bar!

Traff and the boys were already there watching the end of Sunderland and Jam United. United, obviously scoring in the dying seconds of stoppage time for a change.

We were joined by Jonas, Kevin, Julian and Kila and were planning a trip into town for a meal. The Scandinavian contingent where there and invited us to join them for Dinner at the 5 Seasons restaurant. We accept and after finishing our drink we set off to find them in a taxi.

The taxi driver had never heard of the place and eventually said here’s a good place just go there. Ok, and got out at the 5^th season restaurant. Hmmmm sounds familiar. Indeed they where in there, however they were taking up all the room and couldn’t get a table for an hour. No biggy, theres a pub next door.

Several Guinness’ later there was room for us in the restaurant as the Scandie crew had finished. They had moved onto a club but had paid on a few bottles of wine for us, which was very nice.

After the meal most people made their way back to the hotel. Jonas had agreed to meet the rest of the Scandies in a club so Kila, Dopey and me agreed to join him for a couple.

Jonas was on the phone to Andreas asking where they were.

“The Sky Bar”

No one had heard of the place.

He got further directions.

“McGyvors, or McSpiders, Drivers, Gadivors…….”

The problem was having to translate Scandie to English and then English to Irish while I asked directions. Don’t ask me how but we found them in the end.

Make no mistake, although Killarney sounds like a sleepy south Irish town, (And looks like one)it is anything but. Crammed with bars and clubs all of which bouncing you can’t fail to have a good night out.

After a while Kila, Dopey and me returned to the hotel. Although it was getting late the cash games were still flying. I had around 300 euros on me and suggested to Dopey he buy a piece of me in the cash game. Now Dopey is no gambler. It’s not that he’s tight, he has just never joined in with the whole gambling lifestyle. However he’s had a couple to drink and risking 75 quid on me seemed like a reasonable thing to do, despite it possibly being the biggest bet he’d ever had in his life.

I sat in a 1 / 2 game as he sat nervously on the rail. I sent Trev Reardon over to wind him up

“WHAT THE HELL YOU DOING BUYING SOME OF SKAL. HE’S NUTS WHEN HE’S PISSED, ITS MONEY DOWN THE DRAIN”

After losing 80euros in the very first hand it all got too much for him to watch and he went to bed.

Hey I made him 300 quid before I went to bed, made him sweat for it though.

Texted him the result about 6 am, I knew he’s wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I did.

Friday 2nd October
It’s the day of the main event and after lunch we took our seats. With over 750 entries the room was packed to the rafters yet was still a very comfortable environment to play.
There was a 1hr clock and 15,000 starting stacks. With the blinds starting at 25/25 the structure was absolutely fantastic, the organisers were determined to give us our money’s worth but I was concerned how the hell it would finish by Sunday night.
The 1st two levels were quiet and I reached the break with just 12,500 chips. Not in bad shape and I had already seen which players on the table were likely to donate chips to me. Unfortunately candidate number 1 gave them someone else the very first hand we got back.
A player to my left got very busy, raising my big blind under the gun twice. Both times he rivered me for tasty pots once with 23 of hearts the other 78 of hearts. I was now down to less than 8k.
With the blinds at 100/200 I find AQ on the button. Rivvver (A Ladbrokes regular) had limped under the gun. I raise to 600 to find where I am and he flat calls. The flop comes A 8 2. He checks and I bet 900, hoping he comes over the top. I am sure he doesn’t have AK, if he’s flopped the set, well I guess I am going out. He dwells for some time and eventually flat calls. I am now sure he has a pocket pair, probably somewhere between the 8 and ace, 10’s or jacks’s maybe. The turn is a blank and he checks to me. If I bet now, he will fold and I get nothing more. He knows me and he expects me to continuation bet the flop whether I hit or not. I check, knowing he will either bet the river or at least call a bet from me thinking there is a good chance I am bluffing. The river is again a blank and he checks to me. I bet 2000 which he calls and he shows me his pocket kings. If he’d reraised pre-flop I was gone. Phew!
The guy to my right, called Joseph had been harping on about a dog all day. I have an almost perfect record when it comes to backing horse and dog tips. If I back ‘em they lose, if I don’t, they win. Simple. I had tried to resist the temptation of knowing about it. However when the dinner break came he reminded everyone again that it was running at 9.25 and the whole table assured him they were backing it, including the old dear (Vera) to his right. I now had no choice, if I came back from the break to hear the whole table celebrating a win I was sure to tilt. I had to consider the bet as a life insurance policy.
Julian and Traff joined me for dinner at our hotel where we discussed the days play and the bet. (of course). Traff wasn’t interested but Julian and me rushed back to get our bets on. It was only 6/4 so we had 200 each on and stood around waiting for the start of the race. At 9.30, 5 mins after the off someone informed us it was some far out Irish track and there wasn’t gonna be any coverage so we rushed back to the tournament. By the time I got to the table everyone was celebrating, it had indeed won. Sweet.

Without any major battles or large pots I had battled my way to over 20,000. On my table was Rory Brown, a young lad who I first met in Galway of January of this year. I knew he had moves and his read of the game is good. We locked horns a little and it was only a matter of time before we played a critical pot.
With the blinds at 150/300 He raised under the gun to 1000. I find pocket Jacks and re-raise to 3000. He contemplates his next move. He knows I could be squeezing but he dosen’t want to risk pushing all in, but his hand is good enough to at least see a flop and calls. The board is 7 4 2, perfect. He checks to me. I bet out just over 4,000. I know he has around 11,000 and I hope he feels I will fold to a push. He dwells before indeed pushing all in and I make the call. He flips over pocket 10’s and when the turn and river are blanks I have over 35k and am very much in the game and taken out the one player on the table who might have had me worried.

I started to use my newly found stack to apply pressure. And things are going well. With the blinds at 200/400 I raise with Kd6d on the button to 1150 and both blinds call. Oh, well just a set back. The flop comes 9 Jack high all clubs. Checked to me and I bet 2000. The small blind passes and the big blind checks his cards and calls. I know he has a big club, probably the bare ace and when the turn is a red Jack he checks to me again. I now bet 4500, he only has around 20k and would be foolish to call. He calls, obviously. The river is a King of clubs. He checks and I check hoping I had read the hand wrong and my pair of kings would be enough. NOPE! The clown does indeed have the ace of clubs for the nuts. Not only does he call without pot odds, he had called with no implied odds. Does he really think I am stupid enough to bet the river when the club comes. Sickening when some people may as well turn their cards face up and you still can’t beat them.

The day wrapped up around 1am with still over 400 players remaining. I had around 38k, chip leader for my table and in a good spot. The great news was there would be no redraw and I would get my shot at the same players again.

My friend Steve Trafford has also made day 2 on his first ever major tournament and was obviously delighted. A good effort indeed. Kila had been less than fortunate. After a hefty pre-flop raise with AQ she was all in and out on a flop of Q K A. Her opponent attached to his monster 10 jack.
All that was left was preparation for day 2, so to the bar then.

Thursday 1st October

Woke up bright and early for Lunch and made our way over to the Card room. Marios and the rest of the Ladbrokes guys were running round erecting banners and stuff. I did my bit to help and stayed out of the way.

That night we had arranged a special tourney to be played on the main stage during the super satellite. It would be 6 Brits, 6 Scandies and 6 Irish. It would consist of 3 tables of 6, 2 from each team. The top 2 from each table playing the final. Points would be awarded to finalists. Six for 1st down to 1 for 6th. It was a 100 euro buy-in and we decided to split the money if our team won.

Our team consisted of Myself, Tim “T8MML” Blake, Richard “Daddymac” Sinclair, Bill “BBMoney” Fenn, Alex “Alexb” Bowler and Paul “LordLucan” McCann. Tim was my partner.

The middle table had the comfiest chairs so being team captain we sat there. (I told Tim that’s why to save his feelings, they looked like they were the strongest ones)

I started well and took a slender lead.
Blinds 50/100 I raise to 275 with A7 off suit. The scandi boy called from the button and the flop came 10c Jc 6d. I check, he bets 350.
“Are you at it” I ask. And he gives me a nervous smile. I raise to 900 he pauses, then calls. He knows I could be at it so I suspect he just wants to see what I do on the turn. The turn is a 4 of clubs and I check to him again. This time he bets 1100 leaving himself around 2500. I am certain he can’t call a raise and make it 2300 to go. I was right and he folds. Of course I have to show my hand, it was only a bit of fun after all. Big mistake, all respect from here was gone. (Not that I get much)
He tapped the table and said pocket sevens. I have a lot of respect for Scandinavians. Unlike many British Players they understand that the best hand doesn’t always win. They are not ashamed to pass the best hand to a good play. They don’t ever get mad when they are bluffed. Bluff a British player once and he would rather go to bed broke than risk you doing it to him again.
I raised from the button the next 2 rounds. Once with AJ, another with QJ of diamonds. Both times Alan “Biglad” Truick pushes all in. After the 3rd time, I make a stand and call with A8. He has QK and when the flop comes A J 3 I am in great shape. That was until of course the jammy Irish bastard rivered the 10. ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.
Still had plenty of chips though and when the other Irish Lad on the button pushes on my big blind, calling with AK of spades was not tough. However him spiking a winning pair with his 67 off, was!
Whoever said the Irish are lucky. Doh!

I had just enough left to make the big blind pass and push all in under the gun (5 handed by now) with 23 of diamonds. Mr 67 called this time holding AQ. I was unable to return the favour and a harmless board meant I was forced to be a spectator. Roy Brindley, the non Irish, Irish Captain, had been first to exit. So I didn’t feel too bad.

The final consisted of AlexB and BBMoney (representing the side of truth and justice), 2 Scandies, and the two lucky Irish bastards from my table (Who’s bitter?). Being a team event, collusion, slowrolling and rub downs were actively encouraged (at least by me). It was no surprise then that the two players from each team who had qualified for the final had both come from the same tables.
The Irish boys luck had run out and they finished in 6th and 5th leaving the Brits battling it out with their old adversaries.

After dispatching Scandi number 1 it was 2 brits v’s the young fish Jonas “Nebuchad” Danielson. A fellow Ladbrokes pro. His game is a little weak and his chances would be small…………………. Yeah right he smashed us.

(Had the pleasure to talk a few scenarios over with Jonas the night before, his thinking on the game is possibly beyond that of any other player in the world)

BBMoney was trying to explain how he made a huge (Uncallable move) which Jonas called to win.
“He’s a fish” he declared, yeah, yeah! HEEEE’S the fish.

Due to some stupid rule that I wasn’t consulted on, despite the points being even, the winning player took the prize for his team. Sigh!

One consolation was Kila had won her seat for the Main event during the super Satellite. Very well done, considering she had struggled for chips for much of the event.

Now I have been Playing poker for over 5 years, 4 of those professionally. In all that time, none of my mates from Chorley has ever joined me at an event. Finally my good friend Steve Trafford had qualified. (AKA Slim-Gifted, Ironic name as he is neither) He was joined by three other of our friends. Martin “Big Mart” Holcroft, Mick “The Pud” Parkinson and Dave “Dopey” Hope.
(These are not online poker alias’. Needless to say Chorley is not a great place to be given a nickname. Nobody is called “Ace”, “Chopper” or “Butch”. You get things like “Fat Dave”, “Fat Ging” or “Brain Damage” etc. In fact how big Marty gets away with it I don’t know. Maybe because he’s a lump who would clobber anyone who called him a less than flattering name)

It was getting late and it was time to prepare for the main event.
About 12 pints did the trick.

Just a note. The phrase “Scandi” is what we call our Scandinavian friends. They do not take offense as many have told me such. It is used as a term or endearment much in the same way we call people Taff’s, Jocks and Paddies and they call us English Bastards.

Wednesday 30th October

Unfortunately this was an event I missed last year due to playing the London EPT and I’d heard rave reviews from everyone who attended last year. So this year I was more than eager to attend. With just a 500euro buy in for the main event it would fit most bankrolls and so would be heavily attended. Despite the small(ish) entry fee this meant there was a very tasty prize pool and a 100k for the winner. With the Pound so weak against the Euro at the moment this makes it very tasty indeed. Although drinks were gonna be pricey.

Now Killarney isn’t the easiest place to get to. The nearest airport is Kerry and you can only fly there from Stansted. Luckily my good friend Kev O’Connell was attending and he normally books a Jet for short haul flights. Not just because he’s being flash, but mainly because he can smoke on the plane.
Unluckily he wasn’t travelling till Friday and Ladbrokes wanted me there Wednesday. DOH! We’d have to book a flight from Manchester to Cork and get a Taxi.
I would normally park my car at Manchester when flying from there, but as Kev would be returning to Blackpool it would be stuck there. So we were catching the train. First we needed a taxi to the station.
Taxis in Chorley have a habit of saying
“yep, be right there”
15 minutes later
“On me way”
10 Minutes later
“Coming doon road now lad!”
15 minutes later they arrive.
A friend, who shall remain nameless, works days for a local taxi firm. I didn’t want to risk missing my train so called him and arranged a lift.
Obviously 5 minutes before the train was due Shakey is nowhere to be seen.
“Shakey you twat, where the fuck are ya!”
“I’m on my way, just coming dooon ya road now lad!”
I needn’t have worried; he got us to the station a full 4 seconds before the train pulled in.

The flight was a doddle and we retrieved our luggage to find our pre-booked taxi. Ireland has a rather laid back attitude and I had a feeling that that finding the taxi would be less than easy. I was wrong, the guy was waiting outside the exit with my name on a card. Not only had he given me a discount rate of 130 from 169 euro but he had a brand new Audi A6 to make the 90 minute journey pretty comfortable. Not to mention unlike other taxi’s I’ve taken in the old Emerald Isle, he wasn’t talking for the entire journey.

Killarney is situated in county Kerry and it is no wonder it’s a huge tourist trap for the Americans. People travel all over the world for some of the scenes available practically on our doorstep. And the complex itself was far from a disappointment too. The set-up was excellent and after having a look round the card room I was eager to go.
Kila and me met the rest of the Ladbrokes team for supper in the bar where we sampled a couple of Steak sandwiches. (1 for me and 1 for Kila, there weren’t both mine before the comments start.) If I wasn’t already sure I was in Ireland it was completely confirmed when they turned up, minus the steaks.