Paddy's Corner

I've got a pain in my rear end from listening over and over again to people saying, "Well, you have to be lucky to win a tournament." That statement in itself, unqualified, is probably OK, but maybe there's another side to it. Let me give an example, because that's the only way I can explain.



In 2003, a redheaded Irish player, whom we will call Player A, qualified to play in the World Series of Poker through an online satellite. He was absolutely thrilled to be there, and he was so delighted, that at the start of day two, when he had $40,000 in chips and I had $15,000, I swapped 5 percent with him. Player A wasn't a brand name, but a lot of the Irish players knew that he could play. When he had $50,000 in chips, Player A looked down at his shoes and thought that perhaps they could have been shined up a little bit better. So, while everybody else was worried about staying in the world championship, Player A left his table, crossed the street to the Golden Nugget, and had his shoes shined by the resident professional. The resident professional spotted Player A as a potential regular customer, so not alone did he perform the function that he was employed to do, but he also leisurely regaled Player A with the gossip of the day. Player A was far too polite to inform his shoe shiner that perhaps he should get back to the World Series of Poker, where his chips were being anted away. Instead, Player A let nature follow its course and appeared back at the table just in time for the dinner break. He then played out of his skin for the remainder of the tournament, made a couple of mistakes by his own admission, but was still a force to be reckoned with when it came to the prize money end of things. Player A received $15,000 for his endeavors, which I can testify to, because I had 5 percent of it. It was a job well done. And it was, by the way, the first time Player A had ever played in the World Series of Poker.



A year later, another redheaded Irish player, whom we will call Player B, turned up in Las Vegas to play the World Series of Poker. Player B wasn't going the best at the time, but he still insisted on putting up the $10,000 entry fee because all of the other Irish players were playing. Most of the Irish thought that Player B had no chance, under the circumstances, but he confounded the critics by having $30,000 in chips after day one. Come the break on day three, I was privileged enough to still be in the tournament, and I was delighted to see that Player B was still alive, as well. There was a 20-minute break, which I spent talking with Julian Gardener, as we were both still in the tournament, but in the back of my head, I could hear a conversation going on between my friend Scott Gray and Player B, of whom we are very fond. It transpired that Gray couldn't watch what I was doing, and as he'd had a large measure of success in this tournament before, he appointed himself as Player B's advisor. I can clearly remember Scott saying to Player B, as an Asian gentleman had arrived at the table just before the break with loads of chips, that Player B should relax for half an hour just to see whether this guy was a lunatic who had gotten lucky or a very aggressive player. I particularly remember this peripheral conversation, because I heard it twice.



Being the old pro, two minutes before the end of the break, I left the room at the Las Vegas Club and strolled toward the lift with a view to getting back to my table a couple of hands before my big blind. I knew I was probably going to miss a couple of hands because I'd spent too long at the break, but there was no way that I was going to sprint into the room and show any weakness. As I strolled across the street, planning to look cool after missing a couple of hands, I was amazed to see a red ball of fire, who should hereafter be referred to as Player B, fly past me. Well, there wasn't any problem, really, as Player B and Scott Gray had already worked out that how the new player played his chips was going to determine Player B's future tactics. But wait a minute! Player B bust himself crossing the street to get back to the table for his big blind, and had J-9 for the first hand, both black. Player B looked around, saw that his confidant wasn't there, and called Mr. Load of Chips' raise anyway. Oops. The flop came 10-4-3. Player B checked, and Mr. Load of Chips bet. "Raise!" came the call from Player B. "Call!" responded Mr. Load of Chips. Now, I don't care if Scott was there or not; this call meant three tens or three fours. And Player B had committed only $8,000 in chips from $35,000 at this point. The turn card was a jack. "All in!" declared Player B. "Call!" replied Mr. Load of Chips. Player B was drawing stone dead, and it was the end of his World Series. And it was probably the worst play in the entire history of the World Series of Poker, especially considering the ability of Player B.

Player A and Player B probably had the same dreams and aspirations. One went the right way about it, and the other made a mess. The extraordinary thing about it is that Player A, who played like a champion, is the great young Irish player Rory Liffey, and Player B, well, that's Rory Liffey, as well. That's for the next time anybody says to you that you have to get lucky to win a tournament.



Editor's note: Padraig Parkinson is well-known on the European poker scene, both for his poker prowess and ever-present good cheer. He was but one bluff away from winning the 1999 World Series of Poker, but unfortunately got called. Padraig co-authored the manual The Secrets of Online Power Poker, available at www.winonpoker.com.