I’ve known Withnail a long time and was excited for him when he explained the plan for WithnailsPokerSchool. I was even more thrilled when he asked me to be one of his “Guests” and to play one of the tournaments on the schedule. I waited by the phone as nervous and anxious as one of the girls on Babe Station waiting for an anonymous caller. Would it be Melbourne or Las Vegas, Asia or The Caribbean, where would he send me? When he said Cork it took me twenty minutes searching my atlas before I realised he meant Cork Ireland and not some hot and glamorous Cork, where it doesn’t rain every day.

Nevertheless, I accepted his gracious offer and took the three hour train journey from Dublin with serial winner Marty Smyth:

http://pokerdb.thehendonmob.com/player.php?a=r&n=1685 

That was my first mistake. As any pro will tell you, game selection is a major concept in poker. “Never play against better players if you can help it”. I spent three excruciating hours doing my bollocks at a mix of Backgammon and Heads-Up Poker, a stupid, expensive and unnecessary error to make almost before the trip had started - I guess Marty could use the money!

My spirits rose as we approached Cork to be picked up by Withnail. I knew if nothing else we would be settling into a luxurious hotel in order to be fully relaxed during an intense few days of poker, fine dining, drinking, golf and other gambling pursuits. Imagine my horror when Withnail had not booked the hotel I suggested (complete with luxury Spa, gourmet restaurants, weekend Hen nights) and instead had booked a run down shack that even the local winos would turn their gigantic purple noses up at.  He claimed it was a mistake but was laughing way more than necessary. In poker parlance his story didn’t add up, a stone cold bluff but my hand was too weak to call him (I hadn’t budgeted for moving hotels) and so I sulkily unpacked my bags and tried to acclimatize to the Swine Flu fest next door. Luckily the walls were paper thin and she coughed all weekend so it took me only a few hours to get used to the rasping melody.

Another important poker lesson – don’t let your ego get the better of you. Sound advice I ignored the next morning by agreeing to Withnail’s proposed handicap on the golf course thinking I could overcome the three shots he demanded. After losing (by three shots) we went for a revitalizing Guinness (or two) and headed to the casino for the warm up event. My specialty - Pot Limit Omaha. Two hours later, I was wandering the streets of Cork looking for entertainment. Twelve hours more and I fell asleep on the final table watching Withnail slowly tear apart his opponent heads-up in a game he’s never played before in tournament format.

So for all my moaning Withnail had found us a ‘lucky’ hotel and by winning the first event had ensured not only was it now impossible to leave the place but had also raised the bar for myself and the Coach.

The Spillanster