I’m idly betting the darts in running on ITV4 while counting the minutes until my flight to Las Vegas. Six days and counting. Five days tomorrow morning. Six days until I touch down in Vegas, six and three hours until myself and the sun goddess head downtown to find Mad Marty and Katherine who will be somewhere between Binion’s poker room and the Golden Nugget bar, named Kelly’s Bar after the bartender who always gives Mad Marty and all the Irish guys free drinks if you just keep his tips coming regular.
It’s Premier League Poker time again. At the risk of sounding like I’m trotting out the line, this could very well be the greatest TV poker of the year. Although topping the Durrrr Million Dollar Challenge is a high bar. But it’s been ages since I’ve seen Daniel Negreanu play on TV in a challenging environment, and he talks like his game is pushing the edges. Tony G is in blinding form, he’s bought a tricycle to ride Luke Schwartz out of the studio. And Schwartz himself is fired up to the eyeballs, or as fired up as a guy who says, “Yo yo yo… innit,” can be.
The Premier League is a real crash of Old School and New School this year, and I just don’t see anyone being able to complain about the structure for the first time in forever. The triple stack eight-handed games from the World Open had such fascinating play. Here the field is thirty times better, and they all play four times each. Hellmuth will have no sympathy in this field, and he won’t get given anything. If he fails here, even I might be prepared to now call him second tier. Wow. Big event. I have a feeling sheer talent will come through, and I think the deepest talents in the field are Schwartz, Benyamine, and Hellmuth. Am I being bold, foolish, or sentimental?
Isaac Haxton was over in London last week to put the commentary on the Durrrr Million Dollar Challenge. The play is must watch TV, utterly engrossing. Isaac was getting excited about the potential for this sort of show, I think he may be a candidate to challenge Durrrr in the future. The guy is clearly brilliant about poker, and you can’t help but learn loads from his thought process combined with the play. Some of it is ear-to-ear grinning stuff, and some is mouth dropping wide open.
Isaac and his ilk, though, the 24 and under year olds who denizen the highest limits of Internet and tournaments these days, they have so little respect for any poker player over 30. They think everyone is so bad. We were talking about the Devilfish and he said, “I heard he gets all his money from his many criminal enterprises in the UK.” Like the Devilfish is the Don Corleone of the North Country. All claims by me that the Devilfish might even be up from poker in his lifetime were just met with an open mouth. It was fun. He was telling me some stories about being at a table with the Devilfish and I’m fairly certain it hasn’t occurred to him that the Fish might actually have a sense of humor. All Ivy League textbooks need a chapter on the irony of Hull.
JD Salinger died today. In some ways he’s been dead for years, as no one has seen hide nor hair of him since the late sixties, but Salinger tributes will be dredged throughout the media mainstream because there isn’t a shred of doubt that aside from Hemingway and a couple of others who rise and fade with the trends, he is America’s greatest writer. Next time I get back to Denmark I’ll take Nine Stories and Franny and Zooey from the bookcase and burn through them for the thousandth time. The only thing everyone is wondering is are there any books in his safe that he refused to publish. The probable answer is yes, whether or not they will get published anytime soon is anyone’s guess. I hope his kids need the money.