The Heart of a Champion
Lots of people wonder what makes the difference between a very good player and a champion. Occasionally, I've been asked for my opinion on this matter. I usually give a flippant answer, as I'm pretty sure that anyone who asks me is just trying to wind me up. The truth is, I do know. I came across it in an interview that Boris Becker gave. I like Becker (the trick is to forget that he's German). Anyway, he said that great champions have the ability to play like it means nothing when it means everything. That's good enough for me.
I've had the pleasure of knowing two of the serial winners of the
Irish Open championship, and I've learnt a lot about how champions think from listening to them. They come from different backgrounds, but what they do have in common is a fiercely competitive streak.
Noel Furlong has never really received the credit he deserves. Three
Irish Open championships, a
World Series of Poker championship, and another appearance at a final table of the World Series of Poker would be a record for which many pro players would kill. I would, anyway! The fact that Noel has done this while being just an occasional player is mind-boggling.
I've spent a lot of time hanging out with Noel on the road. It's always good for a laugh. We were recently at Foxwoods for the
World Poker Tour event. I like Foxwoods, but the way they turn these events into an endurance test rather than a test of poker skill is a joke, and it definitely gives an unfair advantage to the younger players. Anyway, as I was ticking over, Noel was in flying form and had his stack up to more than $100,000 after about 13 hours on day one. Twenty minutes later, I glanced over to see how he was doing, and saw just an empty seat. At breakfast the next morning, Noel told me what happened. He said that after 13 hours of play, he misread the board and lost most of his stack. He blamed his glasses, saying that they weren't designed to focus properly when his eyes were so tired. "That was it," he said. "I'll never come over here again; it's ridiculous." I laughed, because I was pretty sure that Noel has too big a heart to quit like that. I was proven right about half an hour later. As we were leaving the restaurant, Noel had found the solution: He reckoned that if he stayed up for 15 hours and then got his eyes tested, he could get a special pair of glasses for when he was tired. Champions have a way of finding a way.
Before he won two
Irish Open championships, the late, great Jimmy Langan was Ireland's number-one table-tennis player for a long time. That mightn't sound like very much, but Jimmy was in a different class. By coincidence, at the same time, England had a champion, Chester Barnes, who also was in a class of his own. They became great rivals, but it seemed that Barnes always won by a couple of points in closely fought matches. Jimmy didn't like to lose, and came up with a plan. The next time they met, Jimmy wore a woolly hat pulled down over his ears from the moment he arrived at the venue until the end of the warm-up. As the match started and Barnes was about to serve, Jimmy whipped off his hat and threw it away. Barnes was used to seeing Jimmy with long flowing locks, and was shocked to see that Jimmy hadn't a hair on his head. He was shocked enough to lose concentration for long enough to let Jimmy get off to a flying start and beat him for the first time. Don't ever underestimate the heart of a champion.
Irish hospitality
Player D told me of an incident that happened in the Clonmel Arms Hotel in Ireland some years ago. There was a great coming together of Irish gamblers in Clonmel. The result was inevitable. The hotel bar may have closed at midnight, but at 4 o'clock in the morning, a number of the usual suspects were still employing the services of the night porter and drinking like there was no tomorrow. Player D was as drunk as a monkey, but still was looking pretty well-turned-out in his suit and tie. In fact, he was looking so dapper that when a drunken Scotsman appeared from who knows where, he assumed player D was the night manager. This was great news for Scotland, because he couldn't get his room key to work and was in bad need of getting the old head down. Player D is a caring chap by nature, and he didn't like to see a fellow drunk faced with such a calamity and said that he'd take care of everything. He neglected to mention that he didn't really have any official connection with the hotel, but after 14 hours in the bar, he felt like he genuinely belonged. He assured the Scotsman that everything would be fine, and went upstairs with him. Surprisingly, the key really didn't work, or maybe it was a case of the wrong room number, but this didn't faze player D. He told his new best friend to stand aside, and he kicked the lock till the door flew open. The Scotsman couldn't believe his eyes. Player D ushered him into his room and said, "Good night, sir. Sleep well. We'll see you at breakfast in the morning!" I'd really love to have a few pints with the mystery Scot and hear his side of the story.
Padraig Parkinson is well-known on the European poker scene, both for his poker prowess and sense of humour. He was one bluff away from winning the 1999 World Series of Poker, but unfortunately got called.
