I won't try to err too much on the side of sentimentality with this post but I am a bit of a 'things always happen for a reason' kind of person, so you may find a sprinkling or two.
Tony was a shining example of the typical 'English Gentleman'. He was retired and in his late 60s when we first met him. He played the piano to the highest level; I could play fairly well too but couldn't read music. The first day I met him, he sat down and played a waltz. I was in awe, and after a little harassment, I convinced Tony to teach me it, note-for-note. This piece was of Grade 8 standard; in other words, one needed to play the piano to the highest ability to pull it off. The patience it must have taken Tony to teach someone that couldn't read music, a waltz of that standard - note-for-note, pedal-for-pedal, accent-for-accent - was unimaginable.
I went every Sunday for an hour for I don't know how many weeks. Each week, we'd get through a little further, and at the end of the hour he would have us both a celebratory slice of cheesecake waiting and would delight in humouring me with tales of his younger days. It must have taken several months but the patience paid off. I remember my fellow GCSE students would mock me behind my back because I used to compose music that was devoid of proper structure, and couldn't read music or play to the standard required. Tony helped me to get a Grade A, teaching me several pieces note-for-note, just like the first waltz, to perform for my exams.
Just before I left school, I was asked to play that first waltz in the school concert and Tony came to watch. My mother told me after how he had seemed a little nervous, and as I played he had his eyes closed and his hands out in front of him, playing along on an imaginary piano. When I hit the last note, he let out a sigh of relief. As the audience were clapping, he got up quietly and left. I think the gist of what I am getting at is: no hurdle is too much to overcome, and whatever goals you set yourself can be achieved with hard work and commitment.
Tony became our closest family friend for years until he passed away to cancer 10 years ago. In ways which I can't fully go into, he gave us all an opportunity to get back on track and make a success of life. I feel like none of us really took advantage of those opportunities.
I shall roll on 10 years, lest I hear an orchestra of 'metaphorical violins' striking up to sarcastically score my sorrows!
I was pretty confident about both my and Adams' chances in Australia. I’d heard countless tales of Neil's money being 'absolutely golden', and Neil confirmed how he is a magnet for run-good when we landed in Hong Kong. Disembarking, I heard him chirp: ''I run good! I haven't even got off the plane and I'm up £3 already!'' having found said golden sovereigns on the floor.
On the way over, Adam had brought me up to date on his Days of Degeneracy where he would play the nosebleed stakes with the likes of Roland De Wolfe and Luke Schwartz. It was a relief to realise Adam didn't have an ego the size of the Sydney Opera House, and that he was really down to earth. His description of poker fish as 'Pigeons' not only highly amused me but reminded me of the good ol’ days with my friend Ben, where we would jaunt to Paris, partly to make money; mostly to shatter dreams and outdraw people with a suited five-high. I could tell this was going to be a good trip, regardless of results.
We spent the first afternoon in Sydney taking a ferry to Manly Beach and enjoyed some lunch together. We were all tired but keen to get straight into a proper sleeping pattern. The apartment, part of the Star City Hotel and Casino, was lovely. There was a great gym which I managed to get to twice a day. Adam and I checked out the card room the first night; I wanted to stay awake until about 11pm. I dragged myself away from the table with a few hundred dollars' profit after falling asleep several times.
The time in Sydney flew by, but it was great to get those few days in there. It was a blessing that everyone was so relaxed and laid back. I've been in companies (with regards to my acting days) where you would have a 'Mr. or Mrs. Anal' demanding that we all, “Meet for dinner at precisely 7.30pm,” or, “all 'wake at 9am to meet for breakfast at precisely 9.15,” etc, etc. It was great to go out and eat together at times, but it was also good to be able to just go and 'do your own thing' if our body clocks started running out of synch with each other.
Arriving in Melbourne we were met by 'Action' Dave Morton. He's a lovely guy. I didn't spend as much time as I could have with him (we fully intended on taking the Melbourne gangster party scene by storm. but he's a pretty precise example of what I look for in a friend: someone who doesn't take life too seriously, is honest, as down to earth as the roots of an oak tree, but then suddenly surprises you with a vast knowledge on the world of fine wines. He's considering spending some time in Thailand grinding out the hours, and it would be nice to catch up with him out there.
We had dinner the first night; Chufty managed to take a little time out from his cash game escapades to join us too. This was actually the first time I'd met Barny Boatman, and I have to say (and I think anyone who knows Barny will fully agree) that he's a lovely guy, and one of the nicest people I've met in a long, long time. His sense of humour was spot on and he had a demeanour about him that just sung 'approachable'. A few bottles of wine later, (no doubt plucked from Action Dave's Encyclopedia of World Wines for the Discerning Connoisseur) and we'd fully settled in Melbourne, which would be our Canvas for Outdraws and Run-good on our road to Aussie Glory. Marvellous, as Channing would quip.
The first event was a $1,000 shootout. I didn't run great on table draws for the whole trip and remember walking down and specifically thinking, 'I need Barny on my table to lighten up the mood.' He was sat two to my right. I had Toby Lewis on my left, and to the left of him was Billy The Croc - and though I understand No Limit Hold’em wasn't his strongest game, I was under the impression he might be in 'gamble mode'. I wasn't wrong; he was first man down.
I made a bad pass with Q-Q preflop to two people all in behind me, which Barny took great pleasure in berating me for. I won't go into a whole analysis but the first shove came from the absolute table nit who had lost half his stack, so I knew I would be up against at least A-K. It was probably the second level, and sitting with a 10,000 stack I had no real reason to race. As it happened, he had A-Q and the reshover had T-T. I would have lost to the A-Q but got my money back and made a little from the side pot, so it didn't work out too bad. I ended busting in fourth, I think.
I hardly played any live cash, as the two or three short sessions I played I managed to do the usual - get it in as a big favourite and be administered all sorts of outdraws. Thankfully, I was running good online and up about £4,000 in the first three days in Melbourne. The apartment was lovely and we had a good setup, so I thought I'd try and keep the live games to a minimum and concentrate on the next event and, ultimately, the Main, while scooping in the Fruits of the Online Loom.
Event #2 was a $1,000 six-max event. I can proudly say that I wasn't dealt even a semi-playable hand for at least the first two hours. There was no need to get clever and start squeezing because there wasn't enough in the middle to steal. The next two hours went by and I must have played three or four hands - losing half my stack in the process - before finding a spot to shove with A-5 of spades after a raise and a call. The original raiser burst out laughing, launched (and flashed) 9-9 into the muck and muttered something about how he'd pass kings to me - I'd been dealt such garbage and come across as such a nit that I must have been mistaken for Howard Lederer's son. The other guy called after a dwell-up with pocket T-T and I hit a straight. The nines guy tried some sort of needle; I muttered something about being dealt garbage and that I was “looking for a spot”. He sarcastically announced, 'Yeah… nice spot'.
Now, 'Educators' at the table are amongst the people I hate the most, unless they genuinely want to have a friendly and constructive discussion about the hand. I am extremely laid back and easy going at the table in all aspects of life, but if someone offends me, I absolutely boil over. He continued with a few more sarcastic comments, so I politely advised him that I'm not interested in being educated and if he opened his mouth like that to me again I'd do or say something regretful. The conversation ended.
I found another squeeze spot in the big blind with 8-8 after a raise and two callers in late position. Unfortunately, the original raiser had woken up with J-J, and Event #2 was down the drain. I apologised to Sid The Sarcastic that I had overreacted, he reciprocated and we kissed, made up and rode the Gondola down the Grand Canal to the dulcet notes of Nessun Dorma. Kind of.
Read Part Two...