You Don't Have to Be A Detective, But It Helps

The final day of this year’s Irish Open was a great laugh. If you happened to be in the bar. Popular Northern Irish player Billy Johnstone was claiming he’d chopped up a side event. If you’d seen him playing, you’d find it hard to believe. His wife certainly did, as when he phoned to tell her he’d had a good touch, she assumed it was an April Fool joke.

There a school of though he should have told her she was right. I only believed it myself when he started buying beer for everyone, as he’s originally from Scotland, where such extravagance is frowned upon.

Then two cops arrived. They seemed surprised that the place was half empty. They quickly figured out that the TV set was the biggest security headache and set about staking out the area immediately around it. They had obviously been to disguise school as they removed their hats during the horse racing. You’d never have known they were cops. If you only looked at their heads.

One of them asked me how I was getting on at the poker. I told him if the poker was going well, it was unlikely I’d be in the bar talking to him. I also advised him not to waste too much time studying for detective exams. You’d need to have been a pretty good detective (or play on 888) to figure out that there was an 888 Super Stack tournament in Dublin last weekend.

It was the best kept secret in the history of Irish poker. Considering most Irish players are either gossips, drunks or both it was a hell of an achievement. Those who didn’t know about it missed out on a decent overlay and a tournament played in the true spirit of Irish poker, played mainly by English players and three Danes who turned up out of nowhere. Sadly, the next one is going to be open to everyone!

I fell in love with the Irish Open when I first played it in the Eccentrics Club in the eighties and became its biggest fan (except for Jesse May maybe). It’s sad, despite the efforts of a dedicated and talented team, to watch it slide down the totem pole of must-play european tournaments.

I blame the bean counters who’ve cut out TV coverage, added money to side events and a few other things that made this event the best in Europe. I’d like to take them in a time machine to visit the Eccentrics Club the day Furlong beat the great Jimmy Langan.

Then, I’d take them to The Jackpot to hear Micky Finn’s victory speech which showed just how much this title used to mean. After that, to the Burlington to see Marty Smyth and Neil Channing win in as electric an atmosphere as you’ll ever witness at a poker tournament.

Maybe then, they’d realise that what they have is priceless.