Jon Kalmar says...

Irish Poker Festival report 1

Wednesday 30 Sep 2009

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 €550 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 because he’s being flash, but mainly because he can smoke on the plane.

Unluckily he wasn’t travelling til 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, where the hell 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 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 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. 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.

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 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 “Alexdb” 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 so and so rivered the 10. ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. I 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 Alexdb and bbmoney (representing the side of truth and justice), 2 Scandies, and the two lucky Irish players 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.

I 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). Three other of our friends joined him. 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.

Just a note. The phrase “Scandi” is what we call our Scandinavian friends. They do not take offence 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 b******s.