After turning down invitations to the first four series of Late Night Poker, I finally realised I’d been stupid to underestimate the sponsorship possibilities TV could open up and quickly accepted my invite to LNP 5.

On my way from Paris to Cardiff, where LNP was filmed, I stopped off in Dublin to visit my mother, who was in hospital. The news could not have been worse. My friends talked me into going on to Cardiff anyway, as they knew that when things are bad, poker people know how to circle the wagons and look after their own. They were right. Jesse May was there, of course. He was doing the commentary on the poker and acting as a bookmaker, laying odds on all the heats. Jesse was a great commentator and a shit bookmaker, but Jesse refused to accept that he wasn’t just unlucky. Still does.

I was drawn to play in a heat that also involved my good friend Kevin O’Connell and Phil Hellmuth, who at the time had won 6 WSOP bracelets. We all knew he had six because he told us several times, even though nobody asked him. Scott Gray and I first met Kevin and his pal George Geary in Ryan’s pub in Dublin’s Camden Street, back in the days when The Irish Open was held in The Jackpot Club. They were dressed in suits and ties, which was apparently normal poker attire in the North of England, whereas if you saw an Irish guy at the poker table in a suit, you could take it that they’d gone straight to the pub from the office and hadn’t had time to change. Everyone was in good form, the drink was flowing, the craic good, and Kevin and I formed a friendship that spanned several decades. The lads took to the unique craic around Irish poker and played a bunch of Irish Opens. I later introduced Kevin to Galway poker, and he became a regular at the IPC and The Eglinton, etc. He also, along with Jesse and Micky May and Mike and Karen Sexton, Fintan, Donal and that lot, the Party Poker crew and others, became part of the poker group who showed up in Galway to celebrate New Year’s Eve and play Fintan’s tournament every year. Great times!

In Cardiff, Kev and I prepared for our heat by having a few drinks in the hotel. Phil probably went for a run or did yoga or some crap like that. Kev was about half full of Johnnie Walker. So when we got to the studio, he immediately asked Hellmuth how many bracelets he’d won. Jesus! We eventually got started, and Kev and I didn’t hold back on the banter with Phil. I got on fine with Phil, so he wasn’t too worried about me, but between the Burnley accent and the whiskey, he had no idea what Kevin was saying. He kept looking at me, hoping I would translate. I didn’t, but mainly because I didn’t know what he was saying either, but wasn’t going to admit it. Eventually I knocked Phil out. Kev was horrified and looked at me like I’d just shot Bambi. Kev asked what we were going to do now. I suggested we take the piss out of Willy Tan. We did, but Kev was right. It just wasn’t the same.

The final was the next day. It started very late because Hemish Shah, winner of LNP4, had, very sadly, died at the age of 31, and a helicopter took some players, including Joe Beevers, to his funeral service. We often get reminded that poker is just a game. I was seated next to a very emotional Joe in the final. He had been very friendly with Hemish and was very moved when his family gifted him the jacket Hemish had won when he won a WSOP bracelet in the 5K Limit Hold’em event just a few months earlier.
Kevin was in the habit of flying first class and staying in the best suites in hotels wherever he went. He loved it! He said it was a tax write-off, but I didn’t believe him. The only exception was when he’d come to Paris. Then he’d stay in my apartment and sleep on the couch. I tried to make him feel at ease by printing PRESIDENTIAL SUITE on a sheet of paper and cellotaping it to the door, but he wasn’t fooled.

Kev was a big success in business, turning nothing into multimillions.
He applied that same judgement to poker too. He arrived at the WSOP in 2002, bringing a very good young Mancunian kid, Julian Gardner, with him. Kev stuck Julian into the Main Event and kept him calm throughout the tournament as he went deeper and deeper. Scott Gray, who knew Julian well, was also flying high. What a buzz! The two lads both made the final table. What a day! Scott was dogged by Varkoni to finish fourth. Julian lost heads-up to Varkoni, who led a charmed existence for several days. Julian and Kev won a million between them! Somehow or other, they ended up with a million dollars in a suitcase being driven around Vegas! Jesus.
Kevin hadn’t been well for some years. I flew in from Dublin and Jesse from Copenhagen three years ago just to say goodbye to Kevin. We were supposed to have lunch. It was -8 degrees when I arrived in Manchester at 9 a.m. I slipped on the steps getting off the plane, made a mess of my shoulder and finished up on morphine in casualty, and Kevin came to see me. OMG. A few months later, we flew to Dusk Till Dawn for Kevin’s last cash game. It was great fun! I was talking to Kev a few weeks ago, and we were planning a trip to the Galmont, formerly The Radisson, in Galway for The IPT Festival in early January. Instead, we were going to Manchester for Kevin’s funeral. Sad day indeed.

Jesse and I were hanging out outside the crematorium with Joe Beevers, who told us his favourite Kevin story. Joe was 33 and had a 21-year-old girlfriend, Claire. They hadn’t been going out for too long when Joe told her he was going to Amsterdam for a week to play poker and asked if she’d like to join him for the weekend. She, of course, said yes. When she arrived at the casino, Joe was in Day 2 of a tournament. He looked around for a safe pair of hands to leave her safely with. That didn’t work out. All he could find was me and Kev in the bar. Oh God. So he left her with us. Some would think Kev and I weren’t ideal minders, but what could he do? He returned a few hours later, and she was sitting in between Kev and I at the bar, a drink in her hand and laughing!

When we went inside, the lady running the show spoke very well and eventually said that Kev was a very good poker player. Jesse started to laugh. He said Kevin had waited 75 years for someone to accuse him of being a great player, and when it finally happened, Kev missed it!!

After turning down invitations to the first four series of Late Night Poker, I finally realised I’d been stupid to underestimate the sponsorship possibilities TV could open up and quickly accepted my invite to LNP 5.

On my way from Paris to Cardiff, where LNP was filmed, I stopped off in Dublin to visit my mother, who was in hospital. The news could not have been worse. My friends talked me into going on to Cardiff anyway, as they knew that when things are bad, poker people know how to circle the wagons and look after their own. They were right. Jesse May was there, of course. He was doing the commentary on the poker and acting as a bookmaker, laying odds on all the heats. Jesse was a great commentator and a shit bookmaker, but Jesse refused to accept that he wasn’t just unlucky. Still does.

I was drawn to play in a heat that also involved my good friend Kevin O’Connell and Phil Hellmuth, who at the time had won 6 WSOP bracelets. We all knew he had six because he told us several times, even though nobody asked him. Scott Gray and I first met Kevin and his pal George Geary in Ryan’s pub in Dublin’s Camden Street, back in the days when The Irish Open was held in The Jackpot Club. They were dressed in suits and ties, which was apparently normal poker attire in the North of England, whereas if you saw an Irish guy at the poker table in a suit, you could take it that they’d gone straight to the pub from the office and hadn’t had time to change. Everyone was in good form, the drink was flowing, the craic good, and Kevin and I formed a friendship that spanned several decades. The lads took to the unique craic around Irish poker and played a bunch of Irish Opens. I later introduced Kevin to Galway poker, and he became a regular at the IPC and The Eglinton, etc. He also, along with Jesse and Micky May and Mike and Karen Sexton, Fintan, Donal and that lot, the Party Poker crew and others, became part of the poker group who showed up in Galway to celebrate New Year’s Eve and play Fintan’s tournament every year. Great times!

In Cardiff, Kev and I prepared for our heat by having a few drinks in the hotel. Phil probably went for a run or did yoga or some crap like that. Kev was about half full of Johnnie Walker. So when we got to the studio, he immediately asked Hellmuth how many bracelets he’d won. Jesus! We eventually got started, and Kev and I didn’t hold back on the banter with Phil. I got on fine with Phil, so he wasn’t too worried about me, but between the Burnley accent and the whiskey, he had no idea what Kevin was saying. He kept looking at me, hoping I would translate. I didn’t, but mainly because I didn’t know what he was saying either, but wasn’t going to admit it. Eventually I knocked Phil out. Kev was horrified and looked at me like I’d just shot Bambi. Kev asked what we were going to do now. I suggested we take the piss out of Willy Tan. We did, but Kev was right. It just wasn’t the same.

The final was the next day. It started very late because Hemish Shah, winner of LNP4, had, very sadly, died at the age of 31, and a helicopter took some players, including Joe Beevers, to his funeral service. We often get reminded that poker is just a game. I was seated next to a very emotional Joe in the final. He had been very friendly with Hemish and was very moved when his family gifted him the jacket Hemish had won when he won a WSOP bracelet in the 5K Limit Hold’em event just a few months earlier.
Kevin was in the habit of flying first class and staying in the best suites in hotels wherever he went. He loved it! He said it was a tax write-off, but I didn’t believe him. The only exception was when he’d come to Paris. Then he’d stay in my apartment and sleep on the couch. I tried to make him feel at ease by printing PRESIDENTIAL SUITE on a sheet of paper and cellotaping it to the door, but he wasn’t fooled.

Kev was a big success in business, turning nothing into multimillions.
He applied that same judgement to poker too. He arrived at the WSOP in 2002, bringing a very good young Mancunian kid, Julian Gardner, with him. Kev stuck Julian into the Main Event and kept him calm throughout the tournament as he went deeper and deeper. Scott Gray, who knew Julian well, was also flying high. What a buzz! The two lads both made the final table. What a day! Scott was dogged by Varkoni to finish fourth. Julian lost heads-up to Varkoni, who led a charmed existence for several days. Julian and Kev won a million between them! Somehow or other, they ended up with a million dollars in a suitcase being driven around Vegas! Jesus.
Kevin hadn’t been well for some years. I flew in from Dublin and Jesse from Copenhagen three years ago just to say goodbye to Kevin. We were supposed to have lunch. It was -8 degrees when I arrived in Manchester at 9 a.m. I slipped on the steps getting off the plane, made a mess of my shoulder and finished up on morphine in casualty, and Kevin came to see me. OMG. A few months later, we flew to Dusk Till Dawn for Kevin’s last cash game. It was great fun! I was talking to Kev a few weeks ago, and we were planning a trip to the Galmont, formerly The Radisson, in Galway for The IPT Festival in early January. Instead, we were going to Manchester for Kevin’s funeral. Sad day indeed.

Jesse and I were hanging out outside the crematorium with Joe Beevers, who told us his favourite Kevin story. Joe was 33 and had a 21-year-old girlfriend, Claire. They hadn’t been going out for too long when Joe told her he was going to Amsterdam for a week to play poker and asked if she’d like to join him for the weekend. She, of course, said yes. When she arrived at the casino, Joe was in Day 2 of a tournament. He looked around for a safe pair of hands to leave her safely with. That didn’t work out. All he could find was me and Kev in the bar. Oh God. So he left her with us. Some would think Kev and I weren’t ideal minders, but what could he do? He returned a few hours later, and she was sitting in between Kev and I at the bar, a drink in her hand and laughing!

When we went inside, the lady running the show spoke very well and eventually said that Kev was a very good poker player. Jesse started to laugh. He said Kevin had waited 75 years for someone to accuse him of being a great player, and when it finally happened, Kev missed it!!

Photo credit : Mickey May