Swamped by flush on the river

POKER: Paul O'Hehirrecalls his anxieties during the recent European Poker Tour event at the RDS

'Have you played before?"

"Occasionally, online and a handful of times with friends," I offered.

"But you've never played real people in live tournament surroundings?"

"Eh, nope."

"Ri-i-ght," said Tony Cascarino, raising, then narrowing, his eyes and focusing far off into the distance.

Since hanging up his boots, the former Republic of Ireland international has made an honest fist of the professional poker circuit, bagging tasty bounties around the globe. But his gaze, at nothing in particular, unnerved me. Was this his poker face? Was he visualising feeding me, head-first, through the bacon slicer?

An inexperienced poker player who plays recklessly and loses often is known as a "fish". Cascarino must have felt he'd hooked a whopper. It was at this point, a full week before pitting my wits against the game's elite on the PokerStars.com European Poker Tour, that the enormity of the challenge facing me began to sink in.

Big Tony's distracted look said it all. I was ridiculously out of my depth and here was a big-hitter already chewing me up.

Facing into the terrifying prospect of my first bricks and mortar tournament, I shamelessly hijacked the former international in a hotel bar following the Republic of Ireland's drawn game with Cyprus. As media colleagues engaged Cascarino in discussion about the game, I picked my moment and interjected by going all-in, two-footed.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. That's all well and good, Tony, but unshackle thy tongue and release thy cherished secrets of the cards," I almost demanded.

"Be quite aggressive and hit your trips," he replied to a more genuine request for tips. "Know your position on the table. Position is key. Trust your instincts. Get me?"

"You bet-ya baby," I lied, "Trips and instincts."

Apologies to poker aficionados, but true technicalities of the game will be conspicuous by their absence in this piece. Treat it more as a bluffer's guide to prolonging a stay of execution in shark-infested waters.

My poker education stretches no more than a year and I was sure this would be evident once the chips began to fly.

What I've retained over those 12 months was procured via the internet and one tortuously technical book that was meekly surrendered to the locker after two lack-lustre nights of study.

The rest I cobbled together from the poker sessions that night owls and insomniacs devour on satellite TV. That said, friends were also on hand to offer advice between breaks at the RDS.

But surely that wouldn't be enough assistance to tackle the game's elite on their televised tour?

The hefty €8,000 buy-in scared off some players yet the lucrative €2 million prize pot ensured a high-class field of 221 competitors who duelled in no-limit Texas Hold'em for five days last week.

The Dublin 4 venue was a sea of felt tables and croupiers, a wall of trendy Scandinavian and mainland European superstars, a smattering of battle-hardened veterans, visitors from the States and beyond, and Andy Black, the bearded bead-wearing Buddhist from Ireland, who arrived each day on bicycle.

Saving face was my primary objective. The opening day's play started at 2pm and, rightly or wrongly, my measure of success was surviving the tense early hours rather than accumulating chips.

Despite my nerves, I was confident my basic knowledge would see me through the initial passages of play. Instead, it was poker etiquette that weighed heavy on my mind as I sank into Seat 2 of Table 9.

"If there are no crazy accidents you can survive," Katja Thater, one of the game's most prominent players, warned me beforehand. Easy for her to say!

Noah Boeken, who scooped over €20,000 for his 14th-place finish, suggested I "wait for others to make mistakes, but respect the table".

When playing online, the mathematics of the game are presented for you. You are prompted with the precise amount with which to call another player. No such luck in speedy live play and this worried me.

Mid-game, when meticulously mulling over their options, the professionals subconsciously performed tricks with their chips; impressively flicking, spinning and rotating them between their fingers. I was reluctant to touch mine at all for fear of spilling them across the table and revealing my rank amateur status.

"Tells" are signals players give off which clever opponents tailor to their own advantage. I believed it most telling that I move as little as possible.

If my opponents sussed I was a "fish" from the hands I played, the calls I made or the raises I tackled, then so be it. That's part and parcel of the game.

Had I required reminding it was my turn, or had I failed to stay on top of the maths and been hauled up on it I'd have probably bolted!

A novice mixing it on a sponsors invite was not a plausible excuse to unload on professionals at their place of work.

Cards proved a distraction at times such was my preoccupation with appearing comfortable in my surroundings. Occasionally good hands were mucked for the sake of adjusting to the mechanics.

However, once the first two hours ticked by I eased into a stride of sorts. I had achieved my first target and soon negotiated my second - not being the first eliminated.

In a calculated move, I refused to research opponents pre-tournament. No sense in adding to the anxiety.

It transpired afterwards that I was in the company of notable players like Germany's Jan Veit and Praz Bansi of England, but they were faceless and it suited not appreciating the scale of the challenge ahead of me.

Eventually, after seven hours of ultra-conservative play, I surged in confidence when eliminating an American by the name of Wesley Ismay. Anything from here on in was a bonus.

During an interlude, I discovered I was briefly ahead of Cascarino who was duking it out on another table. What form of crazy sport or pastime can you compete on a level playing field against the best in the game and get away with it?

Was I, in fact, an undiscovered poker prodigy about to explode on the scene? Hardly. Thereafter, I completely underestimated the tremendous focus required and hurtled down a slippery slope from which I'd never recover.

We were playing some eight or nine hours now and my starting stack of €15,000 chips had peaked at €24,000 before plummeting back to €16,375 at night's end.

Resuming day two on a different table with new faces, I was soon short-stacked and staring down the barrel. By dark I was hanging by my fingertips and dramatic action was required. So I pushed all-in with pocket fives.

England's Arshad Hussain, who finished in the money, called my raise and sent me crashing out in 60th place. His flush on the river trumped my two pair.

Still, a top-60 finish! I was ecstatic, but also gutted not to have toughed it out a few more hours and return for day three.

But my frustration was nothing compared to that of Annette Obrestad. The diminutive 19-year-old Norwegian is the current poker sensation and the youngest ever winner of a coveted World Series bracelet when she took home €1.3 million in September. She also claims to have won a 180-person online tournament without looking at her cards, except one time when she faced an all-in bet. This, she said, was to emphasise the importance of table position. Cascarino! He tells no lies!

Like a wily pickpocket, she fleeced her opponents time after time without emotion. Fittingly, she coasted in under the radar and arrived at Saturday's final table having ousted Black as chip leader the night before.

When heads-up with American Reuben Peters (45) her stack at one stage reached her chin. But, remarkably, the stock trader from Colorado, who secured his seat in a PokerStars.com online qualifier, rallied to snatch the €532,620 first prize.

Annette collected €297,800 for her efforts but the fire in her eyes, having removed the trademark shades, was unmistakable.

"She's fearless," said Peters, who had 2Pac in his ears for company throughout. "She'll run you over if you let her. The luckiest player won, not the best player."

Luck is certainly a key element in poker but unlike other casino games such as roulette you can hone your skills and improve.

But is poker a sport? The players certainly see it as so, yet almost everywhere it is classed a pastime.

It is interesting to note, however, that the International Olympic Committee classify Bridge as a sport.

As one player told me during the week: "If you know the game, you know it's a sport but perhaps we're not athletes."

Cascarino, by the way, finished 25th, one position shy of a €10,210 payout. Cheers for the advice Tony, we'll rendezvous in Vegas someday.