I was having breakfast in the Gold Coast the other day when I was joined by England’s Mike Hill. In any other casino in Vegas, if someone joins you it’s a good policy to gulp down the remains of your coffee and get the **** out of there before you’re asked if you have any dollars – which is WSOP speak for how much can you lend me ? (But if you’re staying in the Gold Coast people are generally quite chuffed if you don’t ask them for money.)
Mike was complaining that Americans don’t have a sense of humour. Admittedly, the Yanks don’t have a German royal family, but on the plus side they almost elected George Bush twice, which was a pretty tasty effort on their part. He had been out for dinner with an American friend. When asked why he hadn’t ordered a starter, he said he’d be quite happy to do so if Americans ever realised that after killing an animal for eating purposes, it was legal to divide it into more than four pieces. His friend wasn’t amused but I kinda liked it myself.
Later in the Rio, I was chatting to Peter Costa and Mark Napolitano, mainly because there was nobody interesting to talk to. The subject of American humour came up and Peter made an excellent case for the defense. He’d been at a table in the afternoon Rio tournament near the end of last years WSOP playing with an American guy who’d played the event nearly every day without cashing once. He announced that to avoid further disappointment his new ambition was not to cash but to be still involved just one time when the prize money was announced so that he could at least see what he could have won! Case dismissed.
A few years ago, Bono was doing a gig over here (as far as I know, Bono calls the band Bono. The rest of us call it U2.) Being a bit of an ****, Bono paused the music to lecture the audience. He stood there slowly clapping his hands until he eventually said “Every time I clap my hands, a child dies in Africa.” One of the audience shouted up : “Stop xxxxing clapping then.”
I have a European phone a bit like that. Every time it rang last week, somebody died. On Monday it was an old friend of mine from Dublin who passed away. By Thursday, things had got even worse. A devastated Mad Marty told me that his lifelong friend and right hand man Spivva wasn’t going to last the day. He’d just come from the hospital where he said there were ten people standing around Spiv’s bed. When I asked if had used this golden opportunity to organise a sit’n’go and Marty didn’t try to laugh, I realised the worst was about to happen. Sadly, it did. Those from the 888 family (and the Party guys) who played in or attended the Matchroom TV events will remember Spiv. He was the kind, gentle, quietly funny guy who did all the work while the rest of us hung about having the craic!
He will be sorely missed by his family and everyone whose lives he touched. He will be missed by Dublin’s homeless too. Even though they never heard of him. A few years ago, when we were organising a Poker For The Homeless event, I was telling Marty and Spiv we needed a good turnout as that would make raising money from outside the event a lot easier. They told me not to worry, and I needn’t have. They showed up 28 handed (23 players and 5 supporters). Spiv had spent three months organising satellites, collecting cash, booking flights and figuring out how to fit 28 people into 5 rooms in Bewleys Hotel. When I tried to thank Spiv, he just shrugged his shoulders, said “Don’t be silly. You needed help, didn’t you?” and quickly changed the subject to football. That just about says everything abut this lovely man we’ve lost. In his own words.
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Mike was complaining that Americans don’t have a sense of humour. Admittedly, the Yanks don’t have a German royal family, but on the plus side they almost elected George Bush twice, which was a pretty tasty effort on their part. He had been out for dinner with an American friend. When asked why he hadn’t ordered a starter, he said he’d be quite happy to do so if Americans ever realised that after killing an animal for eating purposes, it was legal to divide it into more than four pieces. His friend wasn’t amused but I kinda liked it myself.
Later in the Rio, I was chatting to Peter Costa and Mark Napolitano, mainly because there was nobody interesting to talk to. The subject of American humour came up and Peter made an excellent case for the defense. He’d been at a table in the afternoon Rio tournament near the end of last years WSOP playing with an American guy who’d played the event nearly every day without cashing once. He announced that to avoid further disappointment his new ambition was not to cash but to be still involved just one time when the prize money was announced so that he could at least see what he could have won! Case dismissed.
A few years ago, Bono was doing a gig over here (as far as I know, Bono calls the band Bono. The rest of us call it U2.) Being a bit of an ****, Bono paused the music to lecture the audience. He stood there slowly clapping his hands until he eventually said “Every time I clap my hands, a child dies in Africa.” One of the audience shouted up : “Stop xxxxing clapping then.”
I have a European phone a bit like that. Every time it rang last week, somebody died. On Monday it was an old friend of mine from Dublin who passed away. By Thursday, things had got even worse. A devastated Mad Marty told me that his lifelong friend and right hand man Spivva wasn’t going to last the day. He’d just come from the hospital where he said there were ten people standing around Spiv’s bed. When I asked if had used this golden opportunity to organise a sit’n’go and Marty didn’t try to laugh, I realised the worst was about to happen. Sadly, it did. Those from the 888 family (and the Party guys) who played in or attended the Matchroom TV events will remember Spiv. He was the kind, gentle, quietly funny guy who did all the work while the rest of us hung about having the craic!
He will be sorely missed by his family and everyone whose lives he touched. He will be missed by Dublin’s homeless too. Even though they never heard of him. A few years ago, when we were organising a Poker For The Homeless event, I was telling Marty and Spiv we needed a good turnout as that would make raising money from outside the event a lot easier. They told me not to worry, and I needn’t have. They showed up 28 handed (23 players and 5 supporters). Spiv had spent three months organising satellites, collecting cash, booking flights and figuring out how to fit 28 people into 5 rooms in Bewleys Hotel. When I tried to thank Spiv, he just shrugged his shoulders, said “Don’t be silly. You needed help, didn’t you?” and quickly changed the subject to football. That just about says everything abut this lovely man we’ve lost. In his own words.
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