Continued from Part Three...
I was keen to leave the studio as soon as possible, and we decided to make a reservation at an incredible Japanese restaurant named Koko in the Crown. Neil, Chufty, Action Dave, Barny, Adam (Sunena had left the night before - I think she might have been the lucky charm that we let get away) and I toasted a 'what might have been' with a bottle of Moet Rose, before I announced that, before dinner, I really needed to go and buy a new change of clothes, because I'd worn the same shirt for the first three days of the tournament and was then requested by the crew to wear the same shirt for the two days of filming, too. I whipped around quickly and brought some new jeans and a shirt, then signed into the Spa as 'Richard Ashby' to take a shower, before finally joining everyone at the restaurant. Anne had finished work now and had also joined us.
The food at Koko's was absolutely incredible. We all went for the $220 set menu which included sashimi, crab claw tempura, wagyu beef, foie gras amongst other delicacies that were all prepared and cooked by our own Teppanyaki chef; washed down with hot and cold sake and bottles of wine plucked once more from Action Dave's Wines of the World for the Curious Palate. Speeches were made and stories were shared, but perhaps the highlight of the meal was when Chufty, influenced in part by the Devil's Nectar, decided to impress with his improvisation in the Art of Teppanyaki. Discoveries were made, perhaps most notably the fact that wine is not a good substitute for oil when cooking on the griddle.
We finished at gone 12am and Barny made a wise decision to go to bed after being extremely close to boarding a one-way ticket to the Valley of Temptation. Action Dave, Adam, Chufty and I continued the evening; Adam and I tried to be as sensible as possible during a night which nearly let debauchery in through the back window, before we decided that enough was enough. Bed was calling.
Walking into the casino the next day for the final $1,000 turbo side event after having just been credited $225,000 to my Crown account, it felt like I was registering for a £20 freezeout at my local casino. It had been a lucky week so I decided to stake Action Dave for a double-shot at a final payday, and Neil and I traded the usual 2 percent. I felt like a local when the tournament staff and dealers (half of which I didn't recognise) called me by name. One of the players at the table struck up conversation with me and said, “So, have you had any luck this week?” The dealer let out a sarcastic snigger, which the player didn't clock. I just said, “Bits 'n' bobs… bits 'n' bobs'.”
Dave was out first. I managed to last about half the field and then got eliminated after shoving on a Q-T-9 two-spades flop with J-Q off-suit only to be snapped by AK spades for a gutshot royal draw. I nearly faded it when a deuce hit the turn but an ace on the river sent me packing. Neil was running hotter than Liv Boeree; on several occasions I observed him getting it in with either the best of it and holding, or by far the worst of it and getting there; an occurrence observed frequently enough throughout the week to justify Professors of Modern Poker-Science naming this phenomenon Channingfreude.
Since The Great Wall of Channing was well under construction, I decided to accompany Action Dave as he popped outside for a cigarette, on the condition that we detoured via the Sportsbook. I had a spare $130 that I wanted to wager on the first horse that took my fancy. Entering the Sportsbook, I looked down and found three crisp 50-dollar bills folded into three. I picked it up and asked Dave for his advice. I couldn't keep the money because it would play on my conscience too much. Should we hand it in? We concluded the odds of said money being reunited with owner were slim, so decided against that.
Dave suggested we try to be clever and ask the lady behind the Sportsbook counter if anyone had handed in any money, as we had 'lost some' - to see if she would comment that someone had just asked her the same thing recently, without giving away the fact that we had actually found the money. That yielded no success, but Columbo would have tipped his hat for our efforts.
We walked around the casino to see if anyone was frantically scouring the floor, and then Dave seemed to light bulb the solution: “Why don't you put it in the charity box for the floods in Australia?” This was a perfect idea, but I still had a horse to back. So I suggested maybe it was meant to be, and that I would put my $130 plus the $150 we found on the first horse I fancied, and if it lost, I would withdraw $150 from my account and put it in the charity box.
Looking briefly at a show of betting, I found a horse that was just over 2:1. I didn't really notice the name at first, as I was only going by the betting pattern. The horse was Number 3, and when Dave and I cheered it past the winning post in first place and the result came up on the board, it read: 1st: No.3 - Sense Of Purpose. I found that quite a nice coincidence, and the name stuck with me as I posted $150 from the $650 that I just collected into the first charity box I found.
Neil went out shortly after the break; I think he ran queens into aces that failed to improve and sent the aforementioned poker-theorists scrambling for their blueprints. Just as I was collecting a $500 rack to sit down at a $2/5 game, Neil informed me that Chufty had been comped three Row-B seats to the Djokovic-Murray Aussie Open Final. There were four of us though - but Action Dave was happy for Neil and I to stake him in a cash game as he's been a Melbourne resident for the last few years and seen it all before.
We decided to get a boat to the stadium, and took a short stroll along the banks of the Yarra River to catch the 10 minute journey. I remember thinking about a lot of things walking along there, and realised I had lagged slightly behind Chufty and Neil who were in conversation some paces in front of me. It really felt like we had wrapped up the trip; the 'work was done', as it were. I got to thinking that this year was the first time I had really set specific goals with regards my poker career.
I remember mentioning in my earlier blogs on the site that my primary goal for 2011 was to play as many big buy-in tournaments as possible. In another post, I offered up to £10,000 of action that I would reach Black Belt before the start of the WSOP at the end of May. I've achieved that, I've final-tabled and cashed for A$225,000 at one of the highest profile tournaments in the poker calendar and I've secured at least $60,000 worth of sponsorship for the next six months - it hasn't cost me a penny, and we're only into February. Any cynics needing further proof of the potential benefits of joining Black Belt Poker need look no further.
Walking out of the casino that day, it felt a little like back in the day when we used to wrap up a theatre show with our final performance: the curtain was down, and the road ahead was once again uncertain. Where, and what, would the next show be? I was disappointed that I had come so, so close to a genuinely life-changing sum of money, but I wasn't too bothered. Like I said at the start of this blog, I believe things always happen for a reason, and there is a reason why a seven-figure sum wasn't meant for me that week. And, wrapped up in my thoughts, with the sun beaming down on a toasty afternoon, something caught my attention. There was a man, playing the guitar, just ahead. The tune seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Then, just as I passed him, it hit me. I hadn't recognised it instantly because this piece was not originally intended for the guitar.
“Chopin,” I said, smiling at the man as I threw my loose change into his guitar case. He nodded and smiled back. More precisely, I thought: Chopin's Opus 64, No2 in C#Minor, the first waltz that Tony and I had worked our fingers to blood trying to perfect. I'm not ashamed to admit that I shed a tear or two on the boat over to the stadium (though successfully disguised them from Neil and Chufty!)
The cash certainly wasn't a ‘life-changing' sum, as such, but as the people laughed, and the sun beamed, and the wind danced us all the way to the stadium, Tony was there, reminding me that anything is possible, letting me know that opportunity had come knocking once again, and to take hold of it with both hands.
Prologue
The English Gentleman
Back from the Dead
A Sensible Game