Padraig Parkinson

Like many people I know, I’ve spent way too much of my adult years watching sport on tv whilst never participating in any sporting activity unless walking to the fridge for another beer qualifies. The good news is, the more you watch, the more you’ll witness triumphs of individuals or teams against huge odds. This is particularly good if you’re Irish. The Irish love an underdog, probably because we had 800 years of oppression from the British to endure. (If you’ve bet on the favourite, you are allowed to root for them. We may be romantics but we’re not completely stupid.)
The couch potatoes had a golden year in 2016 when Leicester City won the English football Premier League. The previous year Leicester had come close to being relegated and were expected by most experts to be involved in another backs to the wall- battle to stay in the top division. The bookies seemed to think so and some of them quoted odds of 5000 /1 at the start of the season against their chances of winning the League title. I don’t think there were many takers apart from diehard fans

Leicester, surprisingly, got off to a decent start though, still,no one really considered they could sustain that form over the grind of a 38-game season against the elite teams of the Premier League. After spending twenty years living and playing poker in Paris and in the US, I had returned to Dublin and frequently played poker in the Fitzwilliam Club. As Leicester reached the halfway point of the season still in contention a few of the poker players bet on them at fancy prices though I suspect they didn’t bet much and were just having the craic. It was widely expected that Leicester’s challenge would fall away as the cream came to the top. Amazingly Leicester somehow didn’t read the script.

The chatter at the poker tables became louder with the prospect of a few lads backing a big-priced winner, and the bragging rights that would go with it. As the season entered its final stages Leicester beat huge clubs likeLiverpool and Manchester City in a week and went on to become champions. It was a massive triumph for a team that took inspiration being written off as no hopers. I’ve never witnessed an upset like it.

In 2014 I was in Paris and one lunchtime I got a call from an Irish friend who lived nearby. He told me he’d collect me in five minutes. As I got into his car I asked where we were going. He said the Women’s Rugby World Cup was on in Paris at the time and we were going to watch the Irish ladies play New Zealand. I was fine with that until I discovered the bookies gave us no chance. We were 80/1. I told my friend we would be wasting our time and might be better off going to the pub rather than a humiliation. He said I’d be okay. They’d serve beer at the game. Fair enough.

The match was unbelievable. Nobody told the Irish girls they were supposed to get slaughtered. They fought tooth and nail, chased every lost cause and gave everything for each other and their country. At least that’s what I thought I saw. I am no expert. When the final whistle blew Ireland had won 17-14. Unbelievable! One of the biggest upsets ever and we were there; the celebrations went on till very late in Patrick’s Pub in Bastille. What a night! A year later I was in Patrick’s when the Paris terror shootings started outside. A reminder for sure that we should enjoy the good days when they come along.

I also witnessed a miracle of sorts at the poker table, though I didn’t know it till months later. In 2006 I was playing in a big European Poker Tour event in Dublin’s Regency Hotel. The hotel is no longer called The Regency as a few years later it became infamous; a shooting at the weigh in for a boxing match started a gangland feud which claimed lots of lives over a few years, and the owners changed its name.

During the event I was seated beside former world champion Greg Raymer and he told me popular player Boston Billy Duarte had died the previous day after a tough battle with cancer. I met the former marine turned poker player Billy when Scott Gray and I visited Vegas in 1995. We played a lot with him over the years. He was a gentleman with a dry sense of humour and fun to be around. We liked him. Billy had done really well at the 2006 WSOP but that assessment got upgraded dramatically when we realized he’d played six extra-long days of huge pressure poker whilst terminally ill. At 68 years of age, he made two final tables in a row in tournaments with fields of a few thousand runners. Now that was fucking heroic in my opinion.

I had the privilege of seeing it all. My friend Julian Gardner made the first final table with Billy. I was his cornerman so had a fair idea of what was going on. I made the second one and was sitting next to Billy. The fucker never shut up. I’m guessing he was on decent meds. Here we were playing for a million or two and he was blabbing on about dealing with my people in Boston and guns and things. Jesus!!! Who did he think I was? Then he started to tell me we’d have a pint soon in Dublin and he’d tell me everything. Jesus, I didn’t need to hear this.

Then Billy got knocked out. I missed him. I still do.

So when anyone asks me what is the best poker performance Ive ever seen, I tell them about those six days with Billy. A proper player. A proper champion. A proper gentleman.