Player Interview : Daniel Negreanu

Kid Poker is one of the most admired figures in poker, but do big losses mean he's biting off more than he can chew
We become tainted by the value of the dollar

The plush new poker room in the Venetian reeks of exclusivity. Its spacious grandeur exudes an air of calm sophistication, and it’s no surprise the separate VIP room has started to attract the biggest players in town from across the street at the Bellagio. So it seems all the more out of place to notice the flurry of activity building up in the far-right enclave as I enter the room one Saturday afternoon.
Half a dozen people are standing around one small man wearing a beige jumper and black jacket – nothing too outrageous there. Even from here, it’s plain to see he’s laughing, joking and playing to the crowd, all the while furiously signing anything thrust in front of him. I manage to catch his eye, at which point he nods, excuses himself from the crowd and makes his way over to me greeting me with a warm, ‘Hey, Buddy.’
It’s obvious why Daniel Negreanu has become one of the most popular poker players of his generation. He’s possesses an easy-going charm and openness that’s full of jokes, smiles and friendly chat, and is instantly endearing. You certainly wouldn’t guess that his world is in chaos.
First up is the legislation in the US that’s seeking to ban online gambling, and second is that for infrared contact lenses the latter part of this year, Negreanu has endured some of the worst bad beats of his glittering career. He’s been stalked by an unprecedented number of coolers and haunted by some horrific suck-outs, losing more than $1 million along the way.
‘It’s bizarre how it keeps happening,’ he says. ‘I feel like I’m realistically objective about how poker works, but I don’t think people are being cold-decked as often as I am.’ Yet despite his insistence that the cards have just not fallen his way, there’s evidence to suggest there’s a deeper malaise: something is decidedly not right in his world.v It had been going so well in 2006. In January, he won the $10,000 WSOP Circuit Event in Tunica, taking his career tournament winnings over the $7 million mark and, more importantly, obliterating in one fell swoop the idea that he was past his best. He was running even better in cash games, notably the Big Game at the Bellagio where he was up more than $1m for the year. ‘Life is good,’ he said at the time.
So as he sat down for Season Two of High Stakes Poker a month later, there was no good reason for him to think that his winning streak would be curtailed. The enigmatic Canadian would be facing players he had played day-in, day-out in the Big Game for years; players such as Barry Greenstein, Jennifer Harman, Gus Hansen and Doyle Brunson. He was at the top of his game and brimming with confidence.
To bring those of you not familiar with the format of the show up to speed, it’s a televised no-limit cash game where the invited players stake their own money. Players can rebuy as many times as they like, and get up and leave whenever they want. It’s also the closest you’ll ever get to glimpsing the high-rolling action of the Big Game.
For a renowned post-flop specialist and veteran of the Big Game such as Negreanu, this was home turf and more than suited his ability to play any two cards. ‘Your big-money decisions aren’t made before the flop,’ he says, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. ‘If you have J ♥-3 ♥, whether you call 600 or don’t call 600, it’s not going to change much either way. But what you do after the flop, when it comes J-10-4 or J-10-3, that’s where the brunt of your money is going to be invested.’ His confidence was aptly demonstrated by his decision to bring a cool $1m along to the show. This was a particularly bold statement of intent given that everyone else had bought in for around the minimum $100,000. ‘I knew I was going to be there for several days and I was willing to invest,’ he says, leaning forward now, his fingers steepled. ‘I thought, “I’ll just put it all up now instead of $100k at a time.” I wanted to make sure I was never all-in, that I could always make a decision on my chips.’
It didn’t take long for things to go wrong, though. On one early hand, Sam Farha sucked out on him with a flush on the river when Negreanu had made trips on the flop, which cost him a $128,800 pot. That was just a harbinger of things to come. Negreanu didn’t know it yet, but he and Gus Hansen – who is also no stranger to massive cashgame swings – were about to be caught up in the biggest pot in the history of High Stakes Poker. And unfortunately for Negreanu, he was on the wrong end of it.
‘That hand was so ridiculously interesting it’s unbelievable,’ Negreanu says with the kind of wide-eyed optimism that seems ill-fitting considering the circumstances. ‘Gus and I were the two players with a lot of money at the table. First, Gus made it $2,100. I made a very bizarre play with two 6s that wouldn’t normally be made. I reraised to $5,000, hoping to represent a hand such as Aces or Kings. Then if I flopped a set of 6s and he hit two pair, I could drop him for everything. He called. The flop came 9-6-5, he checked, I bet, he check-raised me. At that point, he could have had me beat. He could have had a straight – Gus plays a lot of hands – but at the same time, there was no reason to get it all-in yet.
‘I was trying my best to sell an overpair – everyone at the table believed it. The turn card came the 5. Now Gus bet again and I was thinking and thinking, trying to pretend wholeheartedly that I had Aces or Kings. So I called. The river card came an 8, which put a straight there. Gus checked and I bet $65,000 looking to get paid off by a straight or something along those lines. Then he raised me $167,000 more.’
Gus Hansen was now all-in, the pot already more than $400,000 and Negreanu had the dilemma of calling with his sixes full of fives – not much of a dilemma, you’d think. ‘If I lose this pot, it’s a cooler: I can’t feel too bad,’ he said on the show. Hansen flipped over pocket 5s, revealing his monster quads and raking in the pot of $575,700, and even the usually icecool Dane took a few moments to process the enormity of the situation. To his left, an utterly shell-shocked Negreanu was staring into space and shaking his head incredulously. In hindsight, though, he admits it wasn’t really the size of the pot that was painful. It was more the way things played out. ‘I talked to [Gus] after and he basically said, “I did put you on Aces or Kings,”’ says Negreanu ruefully. ‘If he put me on Aces or Kings, what in the world was he doing check-raising me? But he thought – and he was wrong – that I was more likely to bet than I was to call a bet.’
‘I wouldn’t have bet Aces or Kings there had he checked to me. He was totally wrong. So it was really backwards thinking on his part and it ended up working out in his favour, but for the wrong reasons. I lost $160,000 because he made a stupid play in a weird way marked cards contact lenses! It was that more than the money. It’s astonishing to think he could be check-raising me with quads.’
Negreanu could be forgiven for thinking that running into quads with his full house was the end of his bad streak, but to his horror, the cards continued to torture him. ‘You watch the show on television and it looks like it’s over a two-week period, but basically I took about seven beats in an hour and ten minutes.’
One of those beats was dealt by his best friend Erick Lindgren, aka E-Dog. Negreanu made his standard raise to $2,000 with 10♥-9♥ and Lindgren called with pocket 8s. The flop came Q♣-8♥- J ♦, giving Negreanu the nut straight and Lindgren a set. Negreanu bet out $4,000, hoping to lure Lindgren into a trap and he duly obliged. Astonishingly, the turn was an 8. Both players checked, so when E-Dog pushed all-in on the river, an exasperated Negreanu slammed his palms on the table, exclaiming: ‘This is getting so sick! How can I flop the nuts every single time and lose. What in the world is going on? Are you kidding me?’ After several minutes of deliberation, Negreanu couldn’t make the lay-down and made the call, gifting a pot worth almost a quarter of a million dollars to Lindgren.
‘It was much easier to lose that pot to Erick because I like him,’ says Negreanu with a pensive smile. However, even five months on, he’s still kicking himself for making the call: ‘I thought he might be trying to set up a bluff, or that just because I kept betting the river, maybe he would have figured that I was going to lay one down finally. But, yeah, in hindsight, I should definitely have laid down that hand. I was frustrated and flustered. It was such a stretch for him to be bluffing in that spot.’
In monetary terms, the total loss of those two hands was in excess of $800,000. However, he doesn’t seem remotely phased by the financial loss he sustained. ‘We become tainted with the value of the dollar and what it really means to us’, he says with a shrug. ‘I look back at the hands and I think, “Well, what could I have done differently?” Nothing. I was just supposed to lose that money.
‘A lot of young kids that come into the game don’t realise they can go on a nice run, build up a big bankroll and think they’re invincible, and then, all of a sudden, they lose two hands and they think, “What’s going on here?” And then their play falters. For me, I’ve been through it so many times – it’s just the way it’s going to go.’
However, perhaps Negreanu’s current bad run goes beyond standard deviation. It’s difficult, for instance, to name another player who has more on his plate. Negreanu is constantly posting on his website, attending charity events, playing golf, writing articles and producing television shows. Not surprisingly, he realises his extra-curricular activities are starting to have a detrimental effect.
‘There’s no question about it. I mean, if I spent no time on the internet, no time writing and doing other things I enjoy, and spent all my time playing poker, I’d most likely be doing a lot better. Having said that, I don’t necessarily want to play five days a week. Also, I feel like I’ve been put in a place in the poker world. If I don’t do anything for poker, who will? If I’m not one of the ambassadors of the game, who is going to be? I feel a role; I feel a responsibility,’ he explains. Ironically, shortly after saying this, some of his fans approach and he signs some autographs with a grin. It distracts him and he loses his train of thought.
And therein lies the root of the problem: Negreanu is caught between trying to please the poker world and trying to please himself. ‘I want to win every national event and every title you can possibly win – and I want to win it every year,’ he says, before adding. ‘I really genuinely care about poker and its wellbeing. Y’know, like fighting things such as the online gaming bill. When I pass on, I hope people remember me and say, “Daniel Negreanu helped poker get to where it is. He helped it to get to the next level of respectability.”’
Some would accuse Negreanu of caring too much. Take his ill-tempered spat with Greg Raymer and the other six major players over the lawsuit they brought against the WPT. The two posted increasingly hostile messages on poker forums as they argued, and it’s clear it still makes Negreanu’s blood boil.
‘It frustrated me that seven people decided to take it upon themselves to decide they would represent the poker world. I really believe that had they gone about things in the proper way, which was to come to the poker world first and then gone through with it, then fine. The fact that they didn’t shows a disdain and disrespect for other people in the poker world.’ It would seem that if you’re a poker player and you think you’re bigger than the game itself, Negreanu will come down on you like a ton of bricks. Take Phil Hellmuth, for example. The Poker Brat was one of the few top pros to opt out of a new poker venture called the PPL (Professional Poker League), reportedly after his demands weren’t met. Negreanu wasn’t impressed with Hellmuth’s behaviour. ‘It was an arrogant decision to think he was bigger than the poker world. Basically, his bluff was called.’ However, while most would agree that Hellmuth could learn some humility from Negreanu, you could argue that when it comes to prioritising poker, the situation should be reversed. In the six months prior to the World Series, Hellmuth was having one of the driest patches of his career. And it was only when he set aside all his other interests and forgot about solely generating money that he stormed to his tenth bracelet and could easily have won another two.
In stark contrast, Negreanu’s WSOP was a virtual wash-out. He found it ‘draining’ but that’s hardly surprising, given that he spent so much time chastising the organisers, and expended so much effort pushing the HORSE event and voluntarily drawing up a new tournament schedule for next year. His entire winnings for the World Series amounted to just under $150,000, which represents a serious underachievement for such a high calibre player.
And his actions at the $1,000 rebuy event – where he rebought 48 times, but failed to cash – caused some raised eyebrows. ‘I’m a rebuy junkie,’ he says. ‘Some people play craps, some people bet sports, I rebuy. It’s a little maniacal, but it’s also calculated. If there’s rebuys available, I’ll take advantage and gamble until I have a stack that’s going to be good enough to get to the next stage. People are going to think whatever they want, that I wanted attention, that I’m some idiot. I had no plans to rebuy that many times.’
Few people would call Negreranu an idiot, but even he would find it difficult not to admit that he craves attention. One of his biggest fears, he says is ‘throwing a party and nobody showing up. That would be devastating.’ At the table, he’s a figure of constant chatter, playing up to 90% of pots. He constantly updates his blog, not just with poker, but politics, his golf swing, anything that comes to mind. But is he spending too much time on being all things to all men? He shakes his head. ‘I realise I’m an integral part of poker’s future and how well we market it to the world. It goes back to making my mother proud. When I was a teenager, she was like, “What are you doing?” Her friends would be saying, “Oh, I’d hate for my son to be doing what your son does.” I was embarrassed for her. If there’s anything I can do to help my mother feel more comfortable or other mothers feel more comfortable, I’ll do it. I’m not a criminal, I’m not a degenerate. I’m actually a contributing member of society, and by putting poker in the mainstream and giving it a cleaner look, I accomplish that. I feel like I’m equipped for that. I feel like I have the tools necessary to do that. This game has been very good to me – seriously, it’s given me a lot.’
However, poker doesn’t owe him a living. And the question that Daniel Negreanu has to ask himself is does he really want to be the best player in the world or does he want to be the most influential? He exudes the charisma and geniality that his peers can only dream of having, but being the best poker player in the world isn’t a part-time pursuit: it’s a full-time job that requires constant improvement and consistent honing.
He may feel as though he has a duty to give back to the poker world what it’s given him, but doesn’t he also have a duty to himself to fulfil the potential of his god-given poker talents? Let’s hope one of poker’s genuine nice guys can still find time to finish first.

Interviewing Phil Laak

Enter the mind of Phil Laak as he jumps out of planes, drops to the floor to give us ten and reveals why he's simply mad about poker
When I started playing online, I had to admit I was missing out on something. I’d see more hands, so the information was more accurate

Cast your mind back to a time when children’s toys were more about imagination than gimmicky electronics. Remember kaleidoscopes? Countless colourful patterns would emerge, each more vibrant than the last. Before a new shape had time to settle into a fully formed image, impatient hands were already shuffling to create the next. Now imagine a human kaleidoscope, and you’ve got an idea what it’s like spending time with Phil Laak. Conversation with him is breathless. Half spoken sentences marked cards never quite reach their destination. His brain has already run off with another thought, image or fragment. Your head’s swirling, leaving you dazed and confused.
Just pinning the man down is a complex operation. We arrange to meet about half a dozen times, but once he gets locked into a game, it can be days before he surfaces. One time, we find ourselves 10,000 feet up in the air, trapped in a very small and uncomfortably hot plane, during the Nevada Loser’s Leap – Extreme Poker’s latest high risk tournament. The moment I flip the record button on, Phil busts out. Thrillseeker that he is, he positively relishes the penalty. For when you bust out of this particular sit&go, the punishment is being kicked off the plane mid-flight, all limbs flailing.

Stop bugging me!

Back on terra firma, Phil tells me to come find him some time ‘between 10pm and 6am’ in the Bellagio’s High Stakes room. The room’s packed, but it’s not hard to spot Laak. There may be no cameras around, but there he is, ragging some guy, trademark celebratory press-ups in full flow – and somehow getting away with it. ‘It’s just like bugging your sister when you’re ten years old,’ says Laak. ‘You know exactly the level you can get to when you’re not bugging her and annoying the shit out of her so much she wants to slap you!’
‘This time I had a couple of weird hands all-in in a period of ten minutes. It was always with the same guy, and I thought, enough weird stuff has just passed. I had Aces and so I over-bet, pushing him all-in. I did the whole act, and it’s an old act! The floors are pretty dirty here so I don’t want to be getting too carried away. But, I can’t believe I got that guy, I feel pumped. It’s great when you felt a guy that’s unfeltable.’
When you what? ‘Felted is a term I coined about three or four years ago,’ booms Laak into the mic. ‘I was worried when I started seeing it actually hold up that I might not get credit for it. In 20 years time, the rumour could be, “Oh yeah, Phil. Of course you invented felted.” I immediately went into gear and made sure people knew it.’ It’s very Laak-like to have got on the campaign trail, agonising over such a thing. ‘I started with liquidise, then pulverise,’ he adds. ‘For the first six months I must have gone through five or six things, but I couldn’t get them to work. Then it came to me one day: felted was the word. It’s perfect because that’s all you have left.’
It’s soon apparent how disparate the crazy unabomber persona reserved mostly for cash games and Phil Laak, the tournament player, are from each other. While he is a calm and static presence at the tables in a WPT or WSOP event, in the cash game arena he really comes to life – and it’s where he spends most of his time. ‘I’m in the Bellagio about four months a year and about five in LA’s Commerce. They are equal and unparalleled. The Venetian and The Wynn have also got good games going now too. Vegas and LA are the two places in America to be during non-tournament time.’
Laak certainly has a structure he likes to stick to. ‘I wait until it’s after 9pm because I don’t like to deal with traffic. I take my Bose headphones, which I only wear about 20% of the time, and a bottle of water before heading to the casino. I’m there until 4.30am, because in LA, unless it’s the weekend, if you play past that time then you have to beat the traffic. So, I’m forced to play every single session and it’s not good for your health to be playing for 30 hours, which I used to do casually all the time. So now it’s like, let’s just do the seven or so hours. Go home, sleep till noon – then start the day again. It’s all about getting out of the casino by 4.30 am.’
Laak’s also a voracious exponent of the online cash games, despite picking up his appetite fairly late. His good friend Antonio Esfandiari owed Phil $16,000 and chose to pay him back via an old online account, with the words, ‘have fun.’ Phil never dreamt the effect this would have on his live game. ‘Playing online poker has 100% improved my game. I thought I knew how to play. I thought I was winning. Then I realised, I didn’t know how to really play poker. I was winning, but I was only winning because my opponents were so weak.
‘Every time I was up against tougher opposition, I would have varying results – breaking even at best. When I started playing online, I had to admit I was missing out on something. I’d see infrared marked cards more hands, so the information was much more accurate. The only way to get wizardly good at no-limit hold’em is either play for 30 years in casinos or play for two years all the time online. The whole thing is just amazing. You become very aware of how weak A-Q is to a raise when you’re on the big blind. I didn’t know that until I played a ton of hands online. I’m like “whooah, I’m going to be fighting A-Q against a set, A-K, or garbage with disguised power and he’s going to have position. Just what the hell am I doing here?”’
Laak’s logging of hand histories and religiously checking the stats didn’t prevent him from initially dropping down to $8,000, and he told himself: ‘lose this $8,000 and you are a failed poker player. You’ll have to go into horse-breeding or some random thing. It’s time to really focus.’ He’d only allow himself to go up when he cracked the no-limit $3/$6 game. Finally, when he was beating it with regular consistency, he moved to $5/$10. When he’d served his time there, he earned the right to go back up to playing higher stakes. Right now, the bankroll’s looking healthy at $190,000.

Goodnight Sweetheart

But just what else makes Laak the player he is? What’s his key component – his trademark blow for opponents? ‘So much of my game is based on the fact that I’m very good at being empathetic,’ he says. ‘I can feel when something’s going good or bad, especially with very good players.’
Of course, playing by feel can sometimes go a bit pear shaped, like during the World Series this year. Laak recounts through fits of laughter the moment when he became convinced the main event was his, even now still not quite accepting the self-fulfilling prophecy was never realised. Around halfway through the first day’s play, he pushed all-in with a hand he truly believed would pave his way to victory – 8-3 offsuit. His opponent flipped over Kings – and it was game over. Being Phil Laak though, he just shrugged and laughed it off. ‘I was doing great in the money games. I never normally swap percentages with anyone apart from Antonio, but I was having dinner the night before with Kevin O’Donnell. I don’t know what was going on, but he was winning all this money, so I said: “I’ll swap with you”. I had 2% from him and he came 21st and won half a million, so I won $10,000 and got my entry money back.’
Even though he’s been offered numerous sponsorship deals in the game, until now, Laak has preferred to cover his own buyins to tournaments with profits from cash games. But he admits he’d relish the opportunity to be able to reach out to a new generation of poker players.
‘When I played backgammon, people were always stunned because I would sit down and was always happy to teach them stuff. But when you’re teaching somebody something, you get better at it yourself. It’s natural and I feel it’s important to spread the love. I was completely stoked when I saw there was going to be a slot for the faces of poker; like ambassadors for the game. Phil Hellmuth once said: “no one loves poker more than me”. But I just don’t believe that. I don’t think it is possible to love poker more than me.’

Padraig Parkinson

Larger-than-life Padraig Parkinson takes InsidePoker down the boozer to explain why Ireland is the true home to the spirit of poker

Poker isn’t all about a whole load of people who started playing on the internet. Poker is a grass roots sport and this is where it started

There are some animals you can only really ever understand in their natural habitat – just ask that Attenborough bloke. For Padraig Parkinson – the lion king of Irish poker, that’s either at the marked cards card table or in a boozer. Option one being prohibitively intrusive, we settle for the next best thing: a bar only a chip’s flip from the baize of the Irish Poker Cup.
‘Fancy a loosener, Parky?’ I shout as my voice echoes around the smoke-filled room. ‘Course,’ comes the snarling reply, Parky’s heels now turning his attention to a very attractive young lady pulling the drinks. ‘Double vodka and coke please sweetheart, and have one yourself,’ he roars, followed with a wink so well practised it’s probably subconscious.
Today, Parky’s dressed all in black, like some Celtic Johnny Cash, fidgeting with his smudged glasses and flicking his long hair. He’s all nervous energy and machine-gun patter. The barmaid – half his age – pretends not to be impressed by the sheer force of the man’s personality. But she’s fooling no one. As Parky holds centre stage, heads begin to turn and a gaggle of half-cut onlookers assemble close by. Parky is here to talk about poker, and the crowd can sense he’s got a story to tell.

It’s kicking off!

‘Well, if you want to talk about poker, this is where it all started,’ rattles off Parkinson matter-of-factly. ‘It was here in Ireland. Irish bookie Terry Rogers went over and met Benny Binion at The Horseshoe. He brought hold’em back to Ireland. We’re a load of gamblers here, so it was like football coming home! You know, poker isn’t all about a whole load of people who started playing on the internet. Poker is a big grass roots sport and this is where it started.’
Cheers break out around us in the boozer, known locally as a ‘craic-house’. Another round of sweating, vodka-laden glasses appear by magic. It definitely seems that Padraig – which rhymes with Yorick of Hamlet fame – is indeed a ‘fellow of infinite jest and most excellent fancy’.
‘I don’t know if you’ve ever been in Hanlon’s Corner, but that’s where it all began,’ continues Parky, raising a glass from his bar stool. ‘That was where the great Jimmy Langan and Don Fagan learnt to play poker. Terry Rogers used to have the Eccentric Club. Liam Flood was the secretary, but he was completely incompetent and couldn’t be trusted with anything. Jim Delaney was the treasurer – but he couldn’t be trusted with his own money between buying the paper in the morning and buying lunch. That’s where poker in Europe all started. You have to know your history in this game.’
Parky’s personal poker history kicked off in the hallowed halls of Trinity College, Dublin, in the 1970s, alongside Donnacha O’Dea, John Callaghan and the late Ramin Sai. As the first poker clubs in Dublin opened – places like The Eccentric, The Jackpot and The Griffen – he abandoned any pretence of attending lectures or aspiring to a nine-to-five job – and went pro. ‘They say in Ireland that when your job starts to interfere with your gambling, the job has to go. That’s the course I followed,’smiles Parky today.
The early years were tough, not least because the small pool of card players in Ireland were extremely sharp. Beating people like O’Dea on a regular basis was never going to be easy. The pubs were something of a distraction, too, as he now readily admits. To break through in the pro infrared contactlenses game he started playing almost exclusively in the United States, a career that peaked as the third-place finisher in the 1999 WSOP main event, which was won by fellow countryman Noel Furlong on a final table that also featured Northern Irishman George McKeever.
Parkinson also achieved great success on TV, wining Late Night Poker Series 5. Originally, he didn’t want to appear because it meant showing his cards to the audience. Once over that hurdle, he faced another: not realising the great Phil Hellmuth could see his hand during his heat. He’s since gone on to be one of TV’s most well-loved poker commentators.

Homeward bound

Throughout the 1990s, Parkinson received the nickname ‘Cantona’ for his ability to drift in and out of the game, only to do something inspirational on a whim. He also based himself in Paris after getting married to French poker player Veronique. This self-imposed exile ended only just recently.
‘I spent most of my time playing on the US tours and I don’t make any apologies for that,’ explains Padraig. ‘That’s my game. But any time there’s a big event in Ireland I always turn up. This is probably the first event all year I’ve actually paid to enter with my own money. I was in Vegas for seven weeks at the World Series and I’m fed up talking bullshit to all those people. Now, you come to Ireland and sit down at the table and it’s amazing. The people here; it’s not just that they are nice, it’s that they love the game and respect it.
‘Last night, I probably got the biggest chip lead the European tour has ever seen, but it didn’t make any difference to me. This was a team event. I was on a Bosman transfer and moved from Galway to Dublin – without even being able to stop for a pint in Kilkenny on the way! It doesn’t matter what team you play for, it’s about pride. You won’t find this anywhere else in the world. The whole 32 counties are here. No one cares about anyone else’s politics or religion. No one gives a fiddler’s fuck really! There’s a load of teams from Northern Ireland, and no one cares about anyone’s background; catholics and protestants are all together. Look at Ivan Donaghy and Paul Lecky; I’m not even sure which one of them is kicking with which foot – they’re both giants of the game. Who cares what religion they’re from? They’re great pals. You know, they say life reflects poker, but sometimes if life could look at poker – just for five minutes – the world would be a better place.’
We stop for a refill. But life isn’t always an endless stream of Vladivar for Parkinson. Not quite always, anyway. There’s the WSOP, for starters. ‘The World Series is a very strenuous event,’ explains Padraig. ‘When I do it I don’t have a drink for five months. I go for a five-mile walk every day. I eat salad – the whole lot. I’m a complete pain in the arse. Everyone laughs at poker being a sport, but it’s an endurance test at the WSOP. You’ve got to be strong and live with all the stuff that happens on a day-to-day basis. I ended up being $150,000 up this year, and winning is the vindication of everything I do. I understand what the odds are and the privilege of reaching the final table. I even met Steve Davis during a piss break.
‘But yet…….’ Hmmm, Parky’s attention span is now drifting off. Not maliciously, not even intentionally. It’s just that he loves talking, he loves the craic and he’s being drawn into another two conversations, which he probably finds more interesting than talking about himself. ‘But yet what?’ I ask, forcing him at least to finish his sentence before we get on with the job of abandoning the false formality of an interview and getting down to the serious business of drinking.

Happy Days

‘Sometimes you’ve got to get back to your roots,’ he reflects. ‘You can always make the old excuse that you’re always on the road the whole time; that it’s another hotel room and all that bollocks. But, it means a lot to me as an Irish player to play here. In France, I couldn’t be bothered to leave the flat. I would play online. One of the reasons for making Ireland my home again is that I don’t want to play on the internet. At the end of the day, maybe it’s not so much about how much you’ve won or lost but rather that you know where you came from. Cash games in Dublin might be 10% the size of the States, but going out and playing them here might be more important than anything else. Home is Dublin and coming home is just great.
‘I’ve probably wasted a lot of my life and spent my life with people who have wasted theirs, but I don’t have to apologise to anyone for that. I had a talent and maybe I abused it. But I’ve done good things too. My biggest day in poker wasn’t beating lifestyle problems or coming third in the WSOP main event, it was when all the Irish poker players got together and played for charity. We raised £50,000. Nobody gave a fuck whether they got a mention or not. That happened in Ireland – and I’m proud it happened here. Poker’s a wonderful fucking game you know. Now what can I get you?’

Jen Mason

Jen Mason is rapidly becoming a TV fixture, could this journalist turned pro be the next Roland de Wolfe?

When I finished college, I survived by grinding limit hold’em at the
lowest levels that you could imagine. But eventually it got so
depressing that a job dealing at The Gunshot.
Then I met the guys at
blondepoker and started reporting card cheating on live tournaments for them. From
there I just met a whole bunch of people.
I spent every penny I had at the time on entering the Green Joker Poker Festival main event in Ireland, and then realised I didn’t have enough money for a flight or hotel.
I ended up sharing a room in a B&B that had no hot water and a car alarm going off outside the building all night. But it went really well.’ [Mason won the tournament, taking home $40,000]
People imagine that being a professional poker player is all about driving up to play in the World Series in your Lamborghini. But in reality, you sit in your room pressing buttons until you build up a bankroll. I wish I could concentrate on making money a bit more.
There is still a part of me that thinks I don’t need to play online poker today: “I’ve had a great month. Let’s go watch Judge Judy and drink a white Russian.”
Tournaments that are made for TV have money to be won, so why not play in them. But I was so freaked out the first time I went on a TV table.
It was slow; people act differently and do really erratic things because they are on TV. I’m more interested in being unobtrusive and winning.

Glen Chorny

Glen ‘Choron’ Chorny overcame 841 other players to take down the PokerStars.com EPT Grand Final

WINNING THIS TOURNAMENT IS INCREDIBLE because it was such a great event. I feel like a complete rockstar and I’m ecstatic at the moment.
I DON’T THINK I ACTUALLY RAN THAT WELL in the event. At the start, I was getting some terrible hands and just couldn’t get going. However, I’m a cash-game player and was able to work my way up gradually. There wasn’t one big hand that turned my tournament, just a bunch of small pots that helped me climb the ladder rung by rung. By the end of day four I was in great shape, so for the first time I really felt as though I could win the whole thing.

AS A CASH-GAME PLAYER, I’M USED TO seeing a lot of streets, but that wasn’t really the case here. I love to see flops with big stacks, but this event was highly competitive so I had to alter card cheating my game. I’m used to playing a bit tighter, and heading into the final I was planning to sit on my stack a bit, but the dynamics changed and I began trying out a few new things. My opponents were giving me more space than I expected, so I took advantage by opening up my game. I stole a lot of pots, but it was working, so I decided to stick with it.

IT WAS A REALLY TOUGH DAY, GRUELLING TO SAY THE least, but I don’t have a problem with playing long finals. For me, it’s just another day at the office. The players I was most concerned about were definitely Isaac [Baron] and my fellow Canadian Maxime [Villemure]. They were the most aggressive players at the final table aside from me, but I’m a confident player and I still thought I could beat them.

SINCE NEW YEAR, I’VE BEEN PLAYING MORE LIVE tournaments, so that’s going to continue. I’ve only played two EPTs, and I have a good record so far, coming 13th in the PokerStars Caribbean Adventure in the Bahamas and now winning this one. It shows I’m playing well.
VICTORY HERE IS COMPLETELY different from how I felt in the Bahamas. To finish in 13th was gutting, especially considering the way I went out. Playing that event strengthened my determination to win this one. Confidence wasn’t really a problem because I’d won a circuit event a few weeks prior. Also, I could have won in the Bahamas just as easily as I could have lost this one; it was just about key hands at the right time.