I recently attended the IPT MONSTER event. I was not alone. A 250k guarantee for 200 entry fee appealed, as expected, to the grassroots players who are the beating heart of poker in Ireland. They love the craic and bring back fond memories of the way we were back in the days when laughter rang out all over the room at Irish events. Some older players aren’t happy at the lack of fun in the bar these days (and nights), but that’s a generational thing. You can’t make the fuckers drink if they don’t want to, so just get on with it!

The PLO games were a lot more subdued than usual. The players were shocked and heartbroken at the news we got a few weeks after the Irish Open that the very popular Tom Harvey had suddenly left us. Tom was a lovely guy who didn’t just talk to the important people. He had time to have a chat and a laugh with everyone. On the day after his death, Fintan sent me a lovely picture of Tom and the 18 year-old daughter that people who knew him way better than I did said he was crazy about. Nothing makes sense until you realise depression takes away all logic, with horrible consequences.

Eamonn Connolly

Like Fintan, Eamonn and Willow Connolly, and too many others, I know far too much about suicide. Eight years ago this week, depression took my baby sister Orla when she had everything to live for. The poker community were unreal. They sure know how to circle the wagons. Eamonn insisted on collecting Mary and me in Longford and taking us to Leitrim for a couple of days for the funeral. After the church service, attended by a zillion people, the hearse headed to Dublin where Orla was to be buried. They were under time pressure and the hearse drove rather quickly. Eamonn lost them, which must be some kind of record. I laughed for the first time in a week. Orla would have loved it too.

Willow Connolly

A couple of weeks later, Mary and I attended a busy tournament in the Green Isle. The kindness of the players was absolutely incredible. We were overwhelmed. Simon OHara from Clifden Poker had told me that poker had a big part to play in creating awareness of and combating suicide, especially in rural areas where the weekly game might be about all that was going on midweek for younger people on the dark, wet winter nights. I thought he was right. He introduced me to Pieta House, who are there to counsel those who need help and definitely make a huge difference.

Last week Pieta’s Darkness Into Light events were attended by 80,000 people all over the country. Illness prevented Mary and I taking part, but we will be walking from night into day on Saturday this week instead. Better late than never!

A TOUCH OF CLASS

I’ve known Daniel Negreanu since 1999, when we were both involved in a Discovery Channel documentary on The WSOP, which did both of us a lot of good.

About a decade later, Daniel was in Dublin for The Irish Open. After a couple of days, we were both knocked out, so we had a few beers. Then a few more. You know how it goes. After a lot of beers, we rang the Voodoo Club and arranged to go there on Sunday afternoon, when they would normally be closed, so that the smaller players could meet Daniel on their own turf.

80 players turned up and loved every minute of it as Daniel did selfies and signed autographs. He loved it too. Thats the real Daniel.

Last summer, a young relative of 1999’s seventh place Main Event finisher George McKeever was playing in a tournament in Vegas. Daniel saw the McKeever name and Irish flag on a list and came over to the table he was playing at. The young lad nearly fainted when he saw who had arrived. Daniel asked if he was related to George. When he said he was, Daniel said he liked the Irish lads, but that George was an absolute gentleman. Nice one Daniel.