Being British can be pretty costly at times. As soon as I arrived I was being British. The taxi from the airport was 28 dollars, so I handed him two 20 dollar notes and said make it 32. He gave me back five dollars adding, "That's good, yeah?" and I just nodded in agreement.
A few days later I was taking a taxi from the Hard Rock to the Rio Convention Centre. From the very first turning I had my suspicions that we were going the wrong way, but I didn't say anything, I just assumed he was taking a different route. It wasn't until the Stratosphere appeared a little too close that I hesitantly asked if he was going to the Rio and he replied, "No, you just said, the convention centre," which I know I didn't. When we finally reached the Rio, he charged me for the extra mileage even though it was his mistake, and, of course, I paid.
It would appear as though living in London has made Benjo more British as he was telling me a story about the flight over where someone had their knees pushing into the back of his chair. Benjo became increasingly uncomfortable, but for hours, he didn't say anything. Eventually, the discomfort was so much that he turned around, likely braced to use the words "excuse me", "pretty please" and "I'm sorry", only to find out that the passenger behind was Rod Stirzaker of PokerListings. Not only had Benjo been sitting in front of a friend for half the journey without realising, but if he'd just stopped being so British and turned around at the first sign of a problem, then he wouldn't have been so unnecessarily uncomfortable for the first few hours of the journey.
I blame the Queen. She's taught us to be too reserved. Is it only Brits who apologise when someone bumps into them? If I bumped into one of the douchebags here at the Hard Rock, they'd probably yell, "Watch where you're fucking going," and tell me to get a tan. Even if I did say sorry, he probably wouldn't understand me. No one seems to understand what I'm saying here. I remember Paul Jackson chatting away at a table once, and the dealer saying, "English only at the table." I wouldn't mind, but even when I am understood, people ask me what it's like living in Australia.
Perhaps the biggest difference between Brits and Americans can be seen on the rail. When I was covering the $1,000 donkament final for PokerNews, Nick Mitchell had what I referred to as the Frat Pack watching from the sidelines, They would holler, heckle, whoop at every opportunity, but would sometimes take it too far. One guy nitrolled with A-Q against Mitchell's A-J, and when a jack hit the board to cripple him, the Frat Pack over celebrated and gave him a rubdown saying, "That'll teach you for slowrolling," even though it was obvious it wasn't a slowroll. Nobody ever slowrolls A-Q. They also drunk so much that one guy got thrown out. He was entertaining, but distracting, and if I'd been at the table I would have been annoyed, but, of course, likely not said anything.
Don't get me wrong, the Brits love a cheer, but it's less about individual attention seeking and more about offering support and making some noise for their friend. When it comes to someone being knocked out, they'll always be polite, as that's the way poker is in the UK. High-fiving and getting in people's faces when someone has just been shafted is not accepted in UK poker, and if it does happen, it's severely frowned upon. To us, it's embarrassing to win by getting lucky, and when it's cost someone else money, then it's just courteous not to rub salt in wounds. My only fear this year, however, is that with all the noise being created by other fanbases, that the Brits will break their stiff upper and lip and follow suit. I love a raucous atmosphere as much as the next man, but I don't want the Amazon to turn into a football stadium when there's money at risk, and dreams and hopes being crushed by the turn of a card.
I think part of the difference is that competitiveness and standing out are key components of American culture and values that many are brought up with. For instance, earlier in the $1,000, one guy stood on top of his chair and shouted, "I don't care if I get a penalty - ship it mother fucker." What he meant to say was, "I don't care if I get a penalty - I want everyone in the room to see what a dick I am." This trend seems to be even more prominent during the Main Event when the cameras are hovering. It's as though everyone is desperate to be a 'star'. Somehow, I can't imagine Ben Roberts or Ram Vaswani doing that. Is fame so important over here that it takes precedence over being a civilised human being?
One major advantage to being British is that American girls seem to be inexplicably attracted to our accent, even if it comes with a tinge of Brummie. I sometimes wish I could just step into the Hard Rock pool area where all the babes are lounging around and bellow into a megaphone, "I have an English accent. Yes, like James Bond. If this interests you, then please come to my room now." I just feel it would save a lot of time.
It was great to see Praz win a bracelet. He's a nice guy and a hell of a player. He's one of these players who has an innate talent of knowing when his opponent's weak, and then having the bravery to apply the pressure with any two, however big the pot is. I'm pretty jealous of that. When I left the Rio that night, they were heads-up, but I knew he was going to win it. The Hit Squad were on the sidelines, as was JP, Priyan, Roberto, Greco and a few others. It was good to see Praz receiving so much support at such a late hour, but British players have really started to band together of late.
I was really pleased to see Neil do so well in the shootout, but gutted that he missed out on a bracelet. Even though he had a 8:1 chip deficit heads-up, I know how much it hurt him when that final card hit the felt. He just stood there, gazing at the board. I could almost hear his heart sink. To Neil, bracelets are everything. In today's game, and whatever the truth may be, they are a measure of how good a player is, and Neil is desperate for people to regard him as a 'great' player. As the cameramen ambushed the stage and Joshua Tieman was presented his bracelet, I could tell that Neil was wondering if he'd get another opportunity, but I'm pretty sure he will. Still, at least his second place winnings suggest a good ol' knees up at the Christmas party. Shame he didn't win; I might have got a pay rise.
With Flushy currently leading the final table in the Pot Limit, I'm starting to feel justified in my prediction that the Brits were going to have a good year, and I wouldn't be surprised if we were to bag a few more bracelets before the Series ends. The last 12 months in particular have seen a number of good, young players emerge from the UK, and many of them now boast the bankroll or backing to really prove their talents. Obviously the Hit Squad have already established themselves as threats, but then you also have the likes of Stuart Rutter, Nicky Evans, James Mitchell, David Jones, Dan Carter, Sam Trickett, James Keys, Thomas Middleton, Chris Moorman, John Eames - there are way too many to mention these days, and they're all in Vegas for 2010.
At the other end of the spectrum, it's sad to see so many of the old timers absent. Kabbaj, Surinder, Barny and Jeff Duval are here, but they're light in numbers. Whilst many will convince you that it's because they don't approve of a corporate World Series, and then go on to regale you with tales of yesteryear at Binions, the truth is that many of them are just flat out broke, and can't afford it. Sometimes it's hard for some of the old guard to admit they've been overtaken by the youngster,s but often that's the case. I heard that this was the first year in a long time that Willie Tann won't be joining us for the World Series, which, for a former bracelet winner is a sad story. Hopefully he'll be back winning tournaments soon.
But you know what, I've never been a patriot, I'm not a fan of the monarchy, and I certainly didn't used to a salute a flag at school. One of the beauties of the World Series is that it brings so many different nations together, and when that national anthem is played, whether it's Stars and Stripes or Afghanistan's anthem (as was the case last year), everyone stands out of respect. When you see thousands of people in the Pavillion rising from their seat to listen to another country's national anthem, it serves as a reminder that this isn't an 'us versus them' game, this is the World Series of Poker. Akenhead knocked Moorman out of an event; Flushy took out Paul Parker, despite staking him; Channing would have happily outdrawn Rutter in the shootout, and viceversa - there are no friends in poker and, in the end, it's every man for himself, wherever you come from.
Previous entries:
May 23: My Old School Teacher
May 31: Welcome to America; Let the Institutionalising Begin
June 1: Pleasure & Pain