snoopy's blog

Laak Attack

Wed, 25 Jul 2007 19:17:40 +0100

Now that I’ve recovered from my unscheduled extended journey home and overcome, although only recently, the devilish burden that is jetlag, I see no reason why I can’t retell a few of my experiences from Vegas. Unfortunately, I don’t have too many tales of drugs, sex and rock n roll that I am allowed to nonchalantly spill into written form without suffering the previously avoidable consequences, but I can share an encounter with Phil Laak that will, hopefully, entertain you for at least a few moments.

Laak’s an interesting chap. Annoys some, but is admittedly highly endearing and hard to dislike. When I first saw him, I think he was undertaking press-ups on a WPT stage with his trademark hood concealing his true identity. At the time, I deemed this to be a detrimental practice that would do nothing but denounce the credibility of poker, but, as with Humerto Brenes, I have recently altered my views and now consider it to be a fun part of the game that is required to keep us all sane, even if they aren’t. If we take poker too seriously, then we’re all at risk of going round the bend, so it’s ironic that it’s the insane ones that bring a balance to what can sometimes be a very serious, conservative and restrained past-time.

I’ve reported on Unibomber events before, but never enjoyed an exchange with him. However, I did receive this opportunity at the World Series, and it was a confusing encounter that left both of us baffled. As I passed his table one time, I was glancing at his chips for a count, when he counted them out for me. Just to break the ice, as I do with many of the successful pro’s, I amusingly (although not in retrospect) said, “If you need any help, let me know and I’ll send you a text telling you what you should do.”

In response, Phillip, as his best buds call him, replied by requesting that I write my number down on a piece of paper for him to refer to. At first, although I was baffled by his serious demeanour, I assumed that he was merely playing along with the jovial banter. However, after he’d asked who I worked for and been bemused by my non-Pokernews response, it suddenly became clear that we were experiencing a small case of crossed wires with Phil believing that I was requesting he calls me up with any information if anything exciting happened at his table.

After some very bizarre dialogue where neither us knew what the other one was talking about, we did eventually defeat the language barrier that had been plaguing this highly unnecessary yet surreal conversation and reach a common ground, albeit after a temporary stunned silence. At this point of realisation, Phil said, “Aaaaaaaah, I see, it was English sarcasm.”

Although the moment of simple amusement that should have succeeded my one liner had turned into something rather more embarrassing, what did make me smile was that Phil was prepared to ring me, or at least give the idea that he was prepared to help even if he wasn’t, to retell any table info that may occur. Of course, my phone wouldn’t have rung, especially because that would have meant conceding his number to a seemingly mad Englishman, but the fact that he humoured me instead of telling me to fuck off showed how nice a guy he actually is and why he is so hugely popular among everyone within poker.

He didn’t tell me to fuck off, instead, simply enjoyed the fact that our wires had got crossed and offered his hand to shake as a meet and greet gesture. Of course I obliged, although almost ruined the very start of a friendship by saying that I wouldn’t wash my hand again as his had touched Jennifer Tilley. I opted against this in case my English humour was again misinterpreted, perhaps even as something rather more mischevious and sinister.

Later on in the tournament, which, I believe, was the 5k short-handed event, I heard a voice exclaim, “Snoop dog.” It was Phil, and it seemed like he had an enthralling story to tell me after all. As I skipped over, he whispered in my ear, “Have you noticed how big (although he may have used a more derogatory term) Dutch Boyd is?”

Slightly surprised, but simultaneously eager to continue along the line of humour that he’d drawn out, I said that he ought to focus on his game and that my offer to send him texts of tips while he plays was still open. He was reluctant at first, but seemed more intrigued when I informed him that my advice had seen Chip Reese through to H.O.R.S.E glory the year prior.

“I would, naturally,” he said, “but it’s an international call. I’d need at least 2 bucks.” “2 bucks!” I thought, “what a croc, me pay him for my advice, that doesn’t sound right.” Anyhow, although I did initially whip out my wallet naively, I ultimately rejected the suggestion and retracted my offer.

It was around this point that we (the bloggers) got to see the full Laak in action. After a bet and a raise (the initial action deriving from online pro Carl Olsen), the relatively shortstacked Laak pushed all-in on a raggy Flop with just about enough to get both players to fold.

Now, Phil isn’t known for a stoic poker face, instead opting for a more animated approach to concealing his hand, and this occasion was no different. Perhaps to relieve tension, Phil causally got his stuff together and started to pack away. He then put on his jacket, stood up from his chair and braced himself to leave, even positioning himself in a standing running position. After a long session in the think tank, the raiser folded and Phil survived, but I’d be interested to see what he had. Guess I’ll never know if his act was one of a bluffer or not.

Gradually becoming a bigger fan of the genuinely nice Laak as the day progressed, I decided to back up my offer of tactical aid by writing down my advice on a piece of paper rather than costing him the price of an international call. So, with 3 tips, one of them being “Always play Eye of the Tiger on you ipod” in hand, I headed out to share my pearls of wisdom. But, on exiting the pressroom, the solemn figure of Phil Laak was standing dejectedly in the corridor. “Out?" I asked hesitantly. “Yep, I’m gone,” he replied disappointedly and nowhere near the excitable childlike figure he was just moments ago. I decided it best not to give him my 3 tips at this point.

All blog entries should have a point of some kind, shouldn’t they? Well, this was just to retell my first encounter with one of the game’s most famous players and one which I’d witnessed countless times on the TV before, albeit with a slight annoyance. However, if I was to draw a conclusion of some kind, it would be that Phil Laak is a bizarre, zany character who is exactly how he appears on the small screen. He doesn’t simply ham it up for the cameras – he’s just as surreal away from them and you can’t help but think that there's a small screw clinging around in there as you speak to him. What’s most important though is that although his playfulness can give the impression that he either doesn’t care or doesn’t take poker seriously, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He loves his poker, and he loves to enjoy his poker, but when it comes down to it, he’s just as desperate to win as the Hellmuths and the Fergusons, and that was proven by his contrasting mannerisms and gutted lethargy upon elimination.

Battle Of The Blinds

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 23:46:19 +0100

Well, here we are, final time, and what an accomplishment for Jon Kalmar. There isn’t too much more I can say that hasn’t been recycled over and over on the various forums. He’s done marvellous, and it’s great to hear of a real rags to riches story, Skalie confessing that he couldn’t even afford to fly his Mrs. over until the latter stages when he was guaranteed a lucrative payday.

At the moment, I’m in the pressroom at the Rio awaiting a press conference, which, I think, will interrupt my penning of this blog entry. I’m not really working today as we brought live updates to a halt due to lack of access, but I’m simply bored and have several hours to kill before my flight departs tomorrow, so thought I’d pop in and offer my support.

Actually, I haven’t slept yet. It's true what they say, there really is no day or night in Vegas, and that has become crystal clear with my sleeping and eating habits. My appetite has completely vanished after living off a Subway per day and I'm finding myself forcing food down my mouth to keep myself going. Also, I went to bed at 5pm yesterday afternoon and woke up at 1am this morning, so every thing's a bit topsy turvy and my head is really starting to spin.

Looking back over the last week, it’s been an interesting Main Event and I was genuinely chagrined to see Scotty Nguyen miss out. Doyle Brunson said recently that no former Champion would ever repeat the feat, but I happen to think that’s poppycock. Scotty, Carlos Mortensen, Berry Johnston and Huck Seed all went deep from a 6,000 plus field this year, and considering their skill and experience, they could easily have gone all the way if the cards had fell for them. I’m not saying that it’s going to happen in the next few years, but sooner or later, unless numbers reach ridiculous proportions, a former winner is surely going to take it down again.

I mentioned Tobey Maguire in an earlier blog entry, when I was discussing the 5k I believe. Well, he did pretty well here too and may even have cashed. Imagine how crazy the TV execs would have gone if Spiderman had made the final, they would have wet their pants in excitement. To be honest, though, I would have loved to have seen him go deeper, it makes for great entertainment.

Not sure what he would have done about the photographers and TV crew though. Whenever people try and take photos of him, or even hover the camera in his general vicinity, he waves his arms across his face like a maniac to prevent himself from being photographed. I find it quite annoying to be honest, as if he’s too important to be photographed playing poker with common folk.

From what I understand, the players sign a waiver pre-comp regarding their image rights, so I don’t think he can complain, but it’s still a pain in the arse when you need a piccy of him. I’m not sure what his problem is, we’re not Hello magazine or anything. I guess he’s really conscious about the way he looks when he’s not on the red carpet and doesn’t want to be seen without his makeup on.

Barry (named because he has a Barry White-esque vocal chord) from Poker Listings told me that Vince Vaughn was the same once, so he asked him afterwards why he wouldn’t let him take his photograph. Vince just looked at him, turned around and walked away. How wude, as Ja Ja Binks would say. Barry also observed that Phil Ivey sometimes snarls at the cameras and does his best to shy away, which is slightly hypocritical perhaps considering he gets paid so much money from Full Tilt to be one of their many faces.

One guy who won’t be waving his hands in front of his face is Hal Lubarski, and if he does, it’ll be his mate’s hands rather than his. Hal’s the blind dude that everyone’s been banging on about recently, and although the media said he wasn’t going to be registered in the Main Event, surprise, surprise, he turned up and was allowed to play. I’m pretty sure that was the plan all along, it’s all about the publicity.

How it works, is that he has an accomplice (although I think friend may be a more appropriate word) seated beside him throughout the tournament, and when Hal is dealt his cards, Helpeyboy (as I shall now refer to him as) whispers into his ear what he has. Actually, Hal had been there all day on Day 2B, but I only caught sight of him (no pun intended) when I overheard Helpeyboy shouting out the board. I raced over to see what the hell was going on and, after a quick glance down at Hal, it clicked that he was the chap that I'd read about in the news.

But blind or not, Hal was all-in with Pocket Kings versus Ace King. As the board came out, Helpey boy shouted out the raggy flop, which, to the delight of the crowd, meant that the man of the day had won the hand, thus giving him 136k in chips. What is weird, and you'll see this from the photo, is the way that Helpeyboy was perched over his shoulder (double stacked, incidentally) - it's almost as if they were a ventriloquist act.

However, although I think it's great that he lived his dream, I can't deny that I held the odd reservation. Firstly, is it fair for one guy to be whispering in his ear? I mean, this isn't a team game, and what's to stop him from providing alternative information beyond what he actually has in his hand? Can I have Phil Ivey on my shoulder letting me know when he thinks someone bluffing? In that sense, there's a big sense of trust that Helpeyboy is an honourable genetleman.

Also, is it distracting for the other players to have to listen to him whispering the cards each time, potentially slowing the game down, and hearing every board that he's involved in read out loud? Not a major problem with me personally, but I'd be interested to know if it does cause frustration. Hmm, so many questions, I think I’ve turned into a scrooge in my old age. I'd be too tempted to shout out the wrong cards for a laugh if I was Helpeyboy, is that old age too?

Pens, Jens, Jesters & People Who Can Spell Poker

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 22:52:45 +0100

As with last year, the first four days of the World Series were absolutely exhausting and a nightmare to update. A 12pm to 4am shift and a lengthy taxi queue meant that we didn’t get home till around 5am each night, and if you consider that it’s in bed by 5.30am and up at 10.30am for the three s’s, that’s a hefty day’s work with just 5 hours sleep and no free time – even during the breaks and lunch hour I’m uploading results and fulfilling my other blonde poker duties. When I outline it as such, updating really doesn’t look like the pretty picture you think it is, and when you’ve witnessed Jen sleeping under a table in the pressroom, you wonder why so many think we live the life of Reilly.

Kafuffles & Scuffles

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 09:21:50 +0100

The third Event we covered this year was the $10,000 Pot Limit Omaha Freezeout that was infested with British and European potential and touted as being our best chance of a bracelet. However, come money time, it was the Americans who triumphed, Paul Jackson being the only one to cash for England. With this in mind, isn’t it about time we scrapped our “Omaha is where we excel” theory – let’s be frank, when it comes to poker, all forms of poker, the Americans dominate, and the more we push Omaha as “our game”, the more embarrassing our lack of progress becomes.

Spiderman IV: Attack Of The Walruses

Wed, 04 Jul 2007 07:49:52 +0100

Although the $50k H.O.R.S.E was brimming with talent and established names, it was the less lucrative $5k 6-Handed Event that provided more entertainment, Finish pro Thomas ‘The Eggman’ Wahlroos being the star of the show.

Grab A Grand, Lose A Grand

Thu, 28 Jun 2007 04:56:51 +0100

I’ve had two free days prior to the H.O.R.S.E and one day-off during, at which point I have decided to ambush the cash games.

On day 1, I played at the Orleans and won $503. On day 2, I played at Caesars Palace and won $458 for a grand total of $961 – not bad for a few hours work.

On day 4, I decided to spend the whole day playing poker, so braced myself for a 12 hour shift at Caesars Palace. I am keen to improve my stamina, so this was an experiment of sorts. No breaks, no sitting out, no moving games, just 12 hours of non-stop $1/3 No Limit Hold’Em poker.

This isn’t a vanity project, as you will detect from the title of this entry and the end result, I just thought it would help my game and perhaps be of interest to some of you cash game players reading my blog.

So, notepad in hand, this is what happened:

3.15pm: Ate the buffet at the Gold Coast and headed down to Caesar’s Palace with $1,000 in my back pocket.

3.30pm: Sat down at a $1/3 table with the maximum of $500.

Status Report: A little tired from updating the night before, but feeling good overall, although not overly confident of a win.

3.45pm: First real hand I played was a bet with second pair in the small blind. I was re-raised, so folded.

4.00pm: A round later, again in the small blind, won a nice pot calling a River bet with 5-4o on 5s-3h-3s-2d-7h board. I’d check-raised the Flop and checked the Turn. He mucked and later announced a flush draw.

4.15pm: Lost those chips back from the small blind again with a poor call on the River of an Ad-7c-7s-3c-Js board with Ac-6c. He bet every street, I called thinking he wouldn’t bet the seven (and unlikely to hold it from early position) and that if he had a slightly bigger kicker, we’d split. Also Turned flush draw. He showed J-7o. I made a mistake because I knew he was a tight player.

4.30pm: Not hitting anything, dealt a few Ace Kings and small pocket pairs, but to no avail.

4.45pm: Still not making any hands and a few bets with marginal hands have gone astray. Made one poor call with T-8 on x-x-T-x-K board. Thought he had missed flush due to betting pattern, but he had K-T, which made sense, but only because he hit River too.

5.00pm: Raise with Aces utg+1, receive 3 callers and 6-6-8 Flop. Everyone checks. Turn = T. Everyone checks. River = 8. Big Blind bets, I call, so does button. BB has 9-6, button 9-7. Thought I smelt a rat, lost the minimum.

5.15pm: Still no luck or successful moves, down around $250.

5.30pm: Request a table change. Only 2 weak players on current table, 2 very good players, the rest too tight.

Status Report: Still feeling fine, perhaps a little peckish, pleased I had discipline to change table.

5.30pm: Sit down at new table with $500. Pack is bent, I request a change of deck. Falls on stony ground, am told that it’s the machine’s fault.

6.00pm: Not played too many hands, when I have, my bets have been ill-timed and raised.

6.45pm: Am $150 down ($400 total), so refill back to $500.

Status Report: A little frustrated to be $400 down, made a few bad River calls, but playing well overall. Not getting a good run of cards.

7.00pm: Comeback starts with a few well-timed bluff re-raises. Up to $625.

7.45pm: Decide to order some food. Received menu, but no waitress. Have asked 3 times, but to no avail. Thinking about leaving.

7.45pm: Smooth call T-9 pre-flop. Check Flop, bet Turn and River of Queen high board. Opponent eventually folds. Phew, Ten high wins.

8.15pm: Finally hit a hand. Limped 5-2 in late position, Flop 3-4-6. Paid off, now over $700.

Status Report: Amazed to actually hit something, still confident I can finish the session up.

8.30pm: Waitress finally arrives, but says it’ll be an hour. I reluctantly accept.

8.45pm: Two complete novices sit down at the table. British, bit drunk, absolutely clueless – claim to have watched it once on TV that day. Game slows right down, but they are fish, so remain patient and pray for a hand.

9.00pm: Novices are inevitable calling stations. Game very slow due to the action stopping on their go and them asking questions constantly. Even dealer frustrated.

9.00pm: Have A-K in the small blind. Shortstack raises to $12, old woman calls, I make it $62 to virtually put him in if he wants to play. He folds, woman calls! I miss board and check it down scared she’ll call if I bet. She shows 7-7 on Jack high board.

9.15pm: Table frustrated. Novice cracks Aces by Rivering a flush with A-J.

Status Report: Really hungry, probably preventing me from focussing fully and would leave if food wasn’t on the way.

9.15pm: Food arrives 15 mins early. Good timing, was becoming very hungry indeed.

9.30pm: Finally hit a hand. Board = 2-Q-7-2, I have 2-4 and re-raise Turn after calling Flop. River = Q. Argh. Novice bets again, but I think I’m ahead and re-raise. He calls with 8-7. Phew.

10.00pm. One Novice doing well. New (senior) neighbour believes they are faking, I don’t as they are too convincing and I’ve never seen them before back home.

10.15pm: Senior neighbour proceeded to bet $100 on the River with both novices in hand. One folds, other calls. Incredibly, Senior mucks his hand (missed straight draw) immediately. Why on earth he’d try and bluff two novice calling stations, I’ll never know. Senior then leaves.

10.15pm I get up to $850 (only $50 down now) after making a nice call with Q-Q. Risky limp in early pos, no raise. Flop = Jc-7h-4c. I, and seat 9, smooth call the bet. Turn = 4d. Bettor bets again, I call, Seat re-raises another $85, I call after a long dwell, eager not to see a third club on the River. River is a blank, we both check – I win a nice pot.

Status Report: Am playing the novices well, not getting frustrated with the pace of the game and lack of hands, but thinking my bets through and not doing anything silly.

10.30pm: Lose a few pots with some loosely goosey calls with marginal hands.

10.30pm: Long delay as ruling is required. One hand, a player forgot to return his cards. Dealer put them in his rack and intended to add them to the pack next hand. He forgot, a new dealer was brought in and two hands were played with foul deck. The last hand, one player was in the middle of scooping a pot when the error was noticed by the dealer. The TD was called over, and he ruled that the pot should be dismantled, the winnings taken off the player and all chips/monies returned to the players. I thought this was absurd, especially when (1) action had occurred and (2) this was the second hand played with a foul deck. Player argued for ages, rather aggressively, but decision stood. Apparently, this is the ruling all across Vegas.

11.00pm: Back up to $850 after denting a relative shortstack with Jc-3c vs. Tc-7c on an Ac-Qc-4c board. Didn’t think he had the King, so made a good out-of-position $100 bet on the River.

11.15pm: Newbies leave, to the dismay of many. I think one was a couple of hundred up. The other several hundred down.

Status Report: Thought about leaving due to the novices standing up. Didn’t want to finish down – big mistake.

11.15pm: Disaster strikes. New player sits down and calls my pre-flop raise with 7-6s from the big blind. Flop = 8-9-T rainbow. Both check. Rag Turn. He bets,, I call. Rag River. He bets $40, I make it $100 (I almost flat called), he makes it $290. I fold face-up, he is enraged (literally red in the face). “That’s a crazy fold!” he cries. Down to $600. Later learn he had Q-J.

Status Report: Knew I should be leaving now. So close to profit, yet knocked back down annoyed me and I played poor poker hereafter. Remember thinking I ought to call it a day.

11.30pm: Players leave, new players join, including aggressive Scandie.

Turn And Face The Strain

Sun, 24 Jun 2007 07:36:07 +0100

Every time I go to America, I always notice those small cultural differences…

1. Us Brits possess little Geographical awareness of America. I took a connecting flight to Minneapolis, yet I still have no idea where in the States it is. I have enough trouble getting to the loo during the middle of the night, never mind working out where some random American city is.

Grumpy Old Beagle

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 07:19:30 +0100

As I sit in Gatwick airport waiting for my plane to depart, I guess now is as good a time as any to commence my WSOP blog. As expected, the journey here was an unpleasant experience. The shock of getting up at 7.30am combined with having my face pressed up against the window of the rush-hour infested tube was to be easily outdone by the 20 minutes I spent in a broken down lift at the station, which, to my horror, jolted twice just to gently remind us that the dear Lord could erase us from our irrelevant little lives at any given moment. With the Poker Gods also on board, there are way too many divine forces gunning for my blood at the moment.

All Quiet On The Western Front

Sun, 27 May 2007 05:28:08 +0100

It’s been pretty slow going for me recently with very little in the way of excitement. I did pop over to Paris (not my favourite place in the world) for the Grand Prix, but with the WPT cameras barred from the premises, there was a subsequent lack of ‘name’ players, and who wants to hear stories about nobodies?!

Ranting With The Poker Brat In Vegas

Thu, 17 May 2007 19:32:56 +0100

Continued from Goo Goo G'Joobing With The Eggman In Vegas...

Another character who likes to make his voice heard is that of the Poker Brat Phil Hellmuth, who just missed out on the big money after he was unable to fold Jacks to The Eggman’s Aces on a raggy Flop. Inevitable ygraceless in defeat, Phil tried his best to leave without complaint, but couldn’t resist commenting, “Unbelievable, knocked out by a guy who plays 9-6.”

There was another hand prior to his exit that saw Hellmuth spurt out some classic lines. Shawn Buchanan raising pre-flop, betting the flop, and hitting a pair on the River with K-7, leading to Hellmuth vomiting lines such as “Great bluff on the flop, genius!’, “He probably can’t even spell poker”, and “I bet he doesn’t even make it to the end of the day.” Well, the first two might be bollox, but the final prediction ultimately came true. What a burk though. I asked Pauly if Phil really was an idiot or whether it was just a part of his game or self promotion: “Well, he’s a real family guy and often misses big comps to spend time with his family but yes, overall he’s still a sausage jockey.”

Before I return to the poker, a quick mention on the Bellagio, which I was making my first ever visit to. If you haven’t been, then you really should, if only to see the incredible fountains dancing in time to the classical music being played over the loudspeakers.

Inside is equally impressive. Pristine conditions, lots of norkage and even a chocolate fountain – something for everyone! There’s also a garden in the lobby area, the mixture of overhead fountains, butterfly sanctuary and giant watering can, slug and ladybird creating a surreal cross between Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and Edward Scissor Hands’ back garden.

Speaking in a more broader sense, the contrast between the taxi drivers back in Brum and the ones in Vegas is immense, the latter being made up of a wide range of nationalities spanning from Russia to the Philippines. I even encountered an Ethiopian Canadian who had spent 4 years in Italy but was now working in America – work that one out! Even though he had a Canadian passport, he was seemingly in love with America, saying, “I adore America. I’m officially Canadian, but in my heart I’m American. I earn 10 times as much here than I would anywhere else.”

On our last day, it was time for the final table, being held in the Convention centre of the Bellagio rather than the Main Casino. For those of you who’ve never experienced the full WPT Final Table experience, then don’t bother, it’s shite. Not only do they try and teach the crowd how to clap and cheer as if they were useless chimps, but they even force them into practicing the art of ‘oooooohing’.

What’s most skin crawling, however, is their complete disregard for the clock and, what had been up to that point, excellent structure of the tournament. Yep, instead of the clock increasing, it goes from 90 mins, to 1 hour, down to 30 mins and even hitting an all-time embarrassing low of 13 minutes, just so they can get the thing wrapped up and fuck off. At this pace, the shitty all-in fest is inevitable and you have to keep reminding yourself of how much they’re playing for.

When I watched it on TV, I knew it was a raise, all-in, call kinda show, but I just thought that it was an edited version. However, after watching the show live, you suddenly realise that it’s not too far from what actually happens. In fact, the whole thing would have been done and dusted in a blink of an eye if it hadn’t been for the heads-up confrontation, an unexpectedly lengthy exchange between Kirk Morrison and Carlos Mortensen which was only time-consuming due to a combination of passive play from the Kiwi and the shorter stacked player winning one of the many random all-ins. 600k and 1.2 million blinds with just 30 million in play – are you kidding me?? I guess that’s just business. The TV company want to get it over with as quickly and cheaply as possible, so you can’t blame them – why should they care about the structure? It’s just a shame when you hear the crowd booing (I bet that doesn’t make the cut) and the announcer trying to make out as if this was an epic final. Try announcing last year’s 7 hour H.O.R.S.E Final, now that’s was a fucking epic!

Anyhow, ranting aside, when the dust settled and the smoke cleared, it was The Matador (genius whoever thought of that nickname) who was left standing – a great performance, cringe-worthy acceptance speech, but who cares, he’s rich!!! Well, richer.

So that was it, the Card Player blogging team supposedly all quit (although I’m sure they’d changed their minds by Monday morning) and Mrs Sabina Gadecki was given the boot (I assume my source is not yanking my chain) for being shithot in the looks department, but just plain shit at everything else and simply not giving a toss about poker.

I’ll leave you with these words…

Bring back my Shana!

Some Things Never Change

Thu, 10 May 2007 13:59:51 +0100

This week sees the Great British Poker Tour, in association with Gala Casinos, travel to the Gala Casino in Nottingham. This will be the third stop on what has been a magnificent tour and a more than welcome addition to the poker calendar.

Goo Goo G'Joobing With The Eggman in Vegas - Part I

Mon, 07 May 2007 06:07:01 +0100

As mentioned in my last entry, this April saw me make my second visit to Vegas, and although I wasn’t covering an event quite as popular as the World Series, the WPT Championship Final isn’t too far behind and is held in higher esteem by many of the big name players.

From Good Samaritan To Bad Thief

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 09:11:34 +0100

At the time of writing, I have just returned home to London after a tough but rewarding week at the Bellagio. Although the journey home was uneventful, the trip there was slightly more amusing, predominantly due to my stupidity which resulted in the following anecdote...

Losing With Wilson in Dublin

Mon, 23 Apr 2007 01:14:30 +0100

Before I had time to get used to my own bed, it was back on the road to Dublin, land of Guinness, leprechauns and maniacal taxi drivers, one of which forced me into a long silence after honking his horn like a mentalist, shouting racist obscenities at other road users and pointing out local ‘broads’ passing by. Although I would have welcomed the latter, I feel it deserved a tad more subtlety than glaring at them unremittingly and exclaiming the phrase ‘pussy galore’.

Boozing In Polska

Mon, 23 Apr 2007 01:12:58 +0100

Just got back off a heavy week in Poland where Peter Willers Jespen and his girlfriend masseuse (yes, THAT masseuse) took home €325,633. It was all in zloty actually, but I still haven’t worked out the exchange rate. I do recall John Conroy saying he was a “half a zlotyaire” though.