#257: “Níl fhios agam cad é”

The French have a wonderful expression for the times when they can’t quite put their finger on something. Things have a certain “Je ne sais quoi” or “I do not know what” when they possess a poetic, ephemeral quality that eludes expression. The Irish don’t have a phrase for this experience. We are a poetic bunch so maybe this is because we are all a country of know-alls.

Before I proceed, let me be clear. I’m not a romantic. I’m not into pageantry. I do love poker but I play it unashamedly for the money. That said, the game has a historical consciousness – it’s caretakers have a responsibility and I can’t help but feel that the current poker Zeitgeist is that of an industry losing touch with itself. Never more was this made clear to me than last week when The Irish Open – the oldest poker tournament in the world outside of the WSOP, felt like a side event.

The Irish Open is special. It’s international and colloquial, serious and mad, prestigious and for the Everyman. Hard-wired into its DNA, bubbling in its chemical make-up, deep-rooted in its legacy is something simultaneous pure and impure.

So what went wrong this year? I’d like the discuss two things.

Firstly, re-entries are a catastrophe for poker – they are short-sighted, greedy and long term, they do terrible damage to an increasingly fragile poker eco-system. Getting rid of them altogether would be the best thing for the game. Restricting them to side events would be a start. I do understand that organisers are bravely putting up ambitious guarantees and those guarantees are a huge selling point so perhaps a compromise would be single re-entry per day. The fact that players could spunk off five, six, seven buy-ins demeaned the dignity of the tournament. Imagine the WSOP Main Event was a re-entry.

Secondly, The Irish Open livestream is an important manifestation of what the tournament and festival is all about. Players watch it on their devices at the table. Fans watch it from their homes all over the world. Family members tune in to see their brother or daughter or uncle going deep. Legends are made and moments go viral, forever preserved in the annals of this great event.

I watched much of Andrew Hedley’s coverage and I had the pleasure of joining him in the booth twice. He’s a skilled analyst and full of energy – a vital quality for multiple days of streaming. But he had no co-commentator, no foil for his banter, no Emmet Kennedy or Jesse May to ask him the questions that the viewers wanted to ask. I know from my partnership on livestreams with Dara O’Kearney how important it is to be part of a double-act, to develop a relationship with a co-commentator, to be generous and understand when to talk and when to listen. Andrew is a natural on the mic and the hands were analysed superbly but The Irish Open is more poetry than prose. It demands another ingredient. It needs a touch of whimsy. The Irish Open needs a certain “Níl fhios agam cad é.”