QUITTING? I AIN’T QUITTING!

At last year’s WSOP, Mike Sexton was telling us about a game that used to run years ago in Carolina or someplace like that. Every now and again, it would get out of hand, especially as everyone was banging away on credit (a bit like the old Full Tilt games). This wasn’t usually a problem as most of the guys were caked up, but on one particular day the guy who ran the game was getting a little nervous, especially as one particular guy was in way over his head and everyone knew this to be the case. To calm himself down, the host announced that the game could continue indefinitely but everyone would have to settle up when they quit. He was looking at the guy who was obviously not going to be able to pay as he said it. The guy looked back at him and said “Quitting? I ain’t quitting”, which went down pretty good with the other punters who were enjoying the craic immensely.

I kicked off the WSOP main event on Day 1C. The line-up at my table included my Irish teammate BigMickG (that’s his real name), Johnny Chan, two American guys who were a bit of craic and 4 extras from Star Wars VII. At a guess SW V11 is a silent movie. Very xxxxing silent actually. Mr Chan tried to convince me we’d been playing against each other for 30 years. The way he was eyeing up my chipstack, I got the distinct impression he wished we played together every day. I remember the first time we did play together it was at Caesars in Tahoe. I was part of a group of Irish desperadoes who’d travelled with Terry Rogers as the tournament had Terry’s name on it. Terry forgot to tell us we were the cannon fodder. To be fair, I forgot to tell Terry I was going to say my name was Rogers and misappropriate the limo Caesars sent to collect him in Reno. Well, one of us was going to have to take the bus. Before the tournament, some cocky kid was busy telling anyone who wanted to listen and several others that he was going to win that year’s WSOP main event. The year was 1989 and as far as I can remember the kids name was Phil something. About half an hour into the event, there was a commotion in the casino. Some guy who was obviously a VIP had arrived as he was immediately surrounded by suits who looked liked they’d die for him if he only asked. Unfortunately, he didn’t make such a request so they led him over to the empty seat beside mine. He sat down and placed an orange on the table. I politely turned to Tom McEvoy and asked “Who the **** is this guy?” Everyone looked at me as though I’d farted in church just as they were getting to the good bit.

I started this years Day 2 with 3 chips (two orange and one yellow). Apparently, that’s not very good as people walk away very quickly when you reply “three” to their “how many have you got?” question. Poker players would rather french kiss a leper than be seen conversing in the Rio with a guy with three chips. I tried four but that didn’t improve my status too much. Twelve hours later, I lost a pot containing 24 chips (all orange). Before the flop, I was mentally practising “24” so that Id be more than ready for the next patronising xxxxer who got inquisitive. After the flop, I was walking through the Rio as the announcer went through giving a bunch of obviously dumb people instructions on how to put chips in a bag and print their names wondering how I could lose to these idiots. I walked past the spot where Mike had told us the “Quit? I ain’t quitting” story and started to laugh. I guess that makes me as dumb as the rest of them.