Whenever the topic of “Who was the greatest horse ever” raises its head there are two clear approaches. In the world of flat racing there is rarely a clear agreement, marriages have been cancelled, crockery smashed and lifelong friendships thrown into jeopardy. The usual names come up, Sea Bird, Ribot, Dancing Brave, Secretariat, Brigadier Gerard and Mill Reef to name but a few. However, when it comes to National Hunt the debate is usually restricted to one name and one name alone.

Arkle.

I have not known anyone with the nerve or evidence to suggest otherwise in all the time that I have followed racing. Arkle stands supremely alone as the finest steeplechaser of all time and with three Gold Cups and a host of wins whilst conceding up to three stones in weight to his rivals it is not surprising. To put things in context, Desert Orchid, at the height of his popularity started a 4-5 favourite for The Gold Cup, Best Mate was the same price; in 1966 Arkle was 1-10, such was his dominance. His rating of 212 is way ahead of the great Mill House (191) and any of the best recent candidates, Desert Orchid and Best Mate. That is a supriority of over 20lbs. Surely nothing can come close to him?

Well how about just across the very same stable yard? In a box just yards from Arkle stood……Flyingbolt.  Who? Well let me tell you a little about Flyingbolt and why he is so close to Arkle in the realms of greatness and yet almost totally forgotten.

He was bred in bizarre and unlikely circumstances. The 1946 Derby winner Airborne was a failure at stud and was presumed to be sterile. He was packed off as a companion for a barren 19 year old mare named Eastlock who had been retired from breeding after 4 fruitless years. Whether it was Eastlock’s long lashes or a meeting of kindred spirits I do not now but Airborne took an unexpected shine to the ageing mare and it was obviously reciprocated because a few months later they had a foal together; a gangly chestnut with a white blaze down his face, the product of these two unlikely lovebirds was to have quite an impact on the racing scene of the 1960s. That he came from such an unlikely source gives his story an extra chink of glory in my eyes. You really couldn’t make this sort of stuff up.

The foal was sold to TG Wilkinson who named him Flyingbolt and sent him to the legendary Irish traner Tom Dreaper, the man who trained Arkle. There he took his place under the shrewd eye of his trainer and a career was prepared to make the most of what appeared to be a decent amout of talent.

He made his debut, aged 5, at the back end of the 1963 season, running in a flat race and finishing down the field.  This inauspicious start was of no concern to Dreaper, who had only ever intended to get the horse some experience before a campaign the next season. A season that no one could have predicted and a series of achievements in subsequent ones that almost beggared belief.

Back on the flat again in October, Flyingbolt scooted home and was then switched to hurdles and won three consecutive races without breaking sweat before lining up at the  Cheltenham festival meeting for the Gloucestershire Hurdle, his biggest test yet. He dominated the race and won as he liked. Born to jump fences, no further plans for hurdles were made and he was schooled for steeplechasing for the 1964-5 season as the racing world lauded his more famous stablemate who had defeated Mill House in The Gold Cup at that same Cheltenham meeting. Tom Dreaper had the best chaser and the most exciting prospect in the world under his care but the world only had eyes for Arkle…….for now.

1964-5 was the season that really showed just how good Flyingbolt could be. He ran five times and won them all with authority and increasing burdens of weight. He hosed home at Cheltenham in the two mile Champion Chase and then ran at Fairyhouse and trounced a quality field to whom he had to concede an astonishing 37lbs to the runner-up. Many eyes were starting to shift their gaze to Arkle’s stablemate and the prospect of a match made many lick their lips in anticipation. For Dreaper though, this was a clash that he would not have been happy to see for one very important reason. Arkle and Flyingbolt were stablemates but far from friends. Arkle was a complete and utter pussycat; proud and gentle, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, children could play at his feet and lads and lasses would receive a friendly nuzzle from his kingly nose. Flyingbolt was a different prospect, a regiment of commandos would have done well to approach him without suffering multiple bruises and broken limbs. If Arkle was as John Keats, a sensitive soul with a gentle gaze, then Flyingbolt was Byron, mad, bad and dangerous to know (and even get near to). But by God, he was a talented horse, every bit as much as Arkle and it seems that he knew it himself and wanted to prove it.

The chance came at the gallops one morning. Arkle came striding up besides him and his jockey, Pat Taafe describes what happended next, which I think, explains why it would have been suicidal for them to meet competitively……

“Flyingbolt was hacking along with Paddy Woods on his back and a funny look in his eye. Upsides on Arkle, I was thinking to myself that I would never see a prouder horse than this. Then he turned his head and slowly looked us over. You could almost see the curl of the lip. This was the ‘Who are these peasants?’ look of his that I was to come to know so well and I suppose I should have been forewarned. Next thing I knew he’s taken a strong hold and was away. Not to be outdone, Arkle took an equally strong hold and got up alongside. And so these two young chasers who were then potentially the best in the world staged their own private race during what was supposed to be a normal session of morning schooling. They took the next four fences, neck and neck, flat out as though their lives depended on the outcome, while Paddy and I held on to them for dear life and waited for the fires to die down. Well, they cleared them all right, but it was a bit too close for comfort and Mr. Dreaper never allowed them to be schooled together again…………Certainly he was as good at seven as Arkle was at the same age…. If progress had been maintained, he would have been as good, if not better, than Arkle himself”.

That season Flyingbolt despatched all opposition with the same arrogant contempt. Once again having to concede stones in weight he simply ran his opponents into the ground, notably at Cheltenham in December with 12-6 on his back where for the only time he did not start an odd-on favourite. The feeling was that the task was beyond him, it was too much to give away 25lbs to a high class field. Nobody told Flyingbolt though and in perhaps the performance of his career he took up the running three fences from home and broke them all to win by a clear 15 lengths……15 lengths and 25lbs, it really shouldn’t be possible for a horse to be THAT good. Flyingbolt was and he was getting better. He then met Arkle’s conqueror Height ‘o’ Fashion and conceding her 28lbs gave her a 30 length beating, incredible as Height ‘o’Fashion had beaten Arkle narrowly when receiving 30lbs from the great horse. I really hope you are now wondering how on earth Flyingbolt’s name has been so forgotten and sadly I have no answer for you, it is simply inexplicable. Back to Cheltenham he went and to avoid Arkle in The Gold Cup, once again lined up for the Champion Chase, I really don’t need to describe the race for you as Timeform’s entry, brief as it is says all you need to know….

“Took lead 2 out, canter”

The next day he finished 4th in the Champion Hurdle, the jockey receiving criticism but to be fair he was on a great horse who had run the previous day and it is unlikely he would have wanted to ask too much of him given that, after all, Flyingbolt was still just 7 years old and plenty lay ahead of him.

Next on the agenda was the Irish Grand National over 3m 5f and of course his rivals carried stones less than his 12-7. It made no difference though as Height ‘o’ Fashion once again had a good rear view, from 2nd place, of our hero and the prior years winner Spalsh could only manage 3rd.They had a weight advantage of 40lbs and 42lbs but they still couldn’t get by him. Can you just imagine how much better Flyingbolt was than these two horses? Over nearly 4 miles and carrying almost 3 stone more he was able to see them off, it takes more than just physical ability, this horse had an iron will and an attitude that he would simply not be beaten, not by a horse anyway.

The end for Flyingbolt came not from the handicapper but from disease. He contracted Brucellosis from the cattle he holidayed with during his summer break and was never the same again. Being so young he was given time and made several reppearances but the magic had gone and with Arkle breaking a bone on Boxing Day in 1966 the game had lost it’s two stars in a matter of months. Arkle never raced again and Flyingbolt was not the horse he was, although he had one last hurrah at Kempton when off level weights he finished 2nd in the King George just shy of his 11th birthday.

That he never ran in the Gold Cup may be one reason that his name is forgotten but if you look again at what he achieved and how early in his career he achieved it you must surely wonder why this is the case. To many, he is the only horse that could have beaten Arkle and his rating is just 2lbs short of his rival at 210 supports this, no other horse is near them.  Yet people just do not consider him in their lists, most notably in a fairly recent poll of the top 100 greatest horses of all time where Arkle came first as usual but Flyingbolt was not even mentioned, not anywhere in the top 100. To me that is wrong, unfair and unworthy of such a tremendous athlete. As if to rub salt in the poor old boy’s wounds, the only race named after him is a fairly lowly trial for the Champion Novice Chase at the Cheltenham Festival; that race itself is named after….well of course…it’s named after Arkle. It’s lucky for the people that chose that little arrangement that Flyingbolt can no longer get hold of them, they’d be sorry and make no mistake, he deserves a better memorial than that. To live in a rival’s shadow is one thing but to suffer the same fate in death is another.

All I ask is that if you ever stumble across a discusion, a poll or a debate is that you take a moment to mention Flyingbolt in the same breath as Arkle, he belongs there and not where he currently sits, in the darkness, alone and forgotten with his achievements. Justice alone should motivate us all to right this wrong and elevate a grumpy, arrogant but supremely talented horse to his rightful seat alongside his nemsis.

Arkle and Flyingbolt, the greatest two horses that ever jumped a fence, let their names be remembered together as they rightly should.  

So here we are, draped in the russet robes of autumn, banging every night (I hate fireworks) and into the tunnel of of dark nights and frosty mornings. October is an ok month for me, great racing, proper racing too and a good excuse to get the red wine and whisky out as the evenings start to become a little nippy.

This October has been a belter.

After landing a nice touch on Zarkava (see DTD and great fillies below) I had my last hurrah of the year at the Breeders Cup meeting in California. There are a series of races over varying distances that our American cousins like to call “The World Championship of Racing” in their usual modest manner. My strategy in this is to pick out my two best horses and back them to win and do a hefty double, hoping for that elusive big payday. Over the years I’ve managed to find several winners of the first leg but have so far failed to land the second. This year I really fancied Goldikova  for The Mile. She had run behind Zarkava twice early in the season and had gone on to win three races with increasing authority. Having been aimed at this race she was inked in at 2/1. My second choice I decided would be a longer shot with a bit of value. I went for Champs Elysees in The Classic. Overpriced at 20/1 I thought, as the European contenders had come over as an afterthought and I didn’t really fancy them. The only one I could see winning, Raven’s Pass, hadn’t run the trip before and I wasn’t convinced he’d stay the extra 2 furlongs in a fast run race.

Goldikova didn’t let me down. She flew home unapposed and I now had to endure a three hour wait for Champs Elysees. I flicked over the channel from a re-run of Jonathon Creek at 11.40pm, it would have been earlier but it’s not easy changing channels with no fingernails left. As expected he was last early but began his late run as they entered the home turn, I waited for the secondary kick to take him into contention, I waited a little more, then a touch more and then watched the “non-staying” Raven’s Pass fly home first, breaking the course record in the process. Ah well, a profit nonetheless and there’s always next year.

Poker wise it’s been great. I’m a member of a five man syndicate and so far we have made a decent profit, no thanks to me but that was about to end as I registered for the Poker Stars $50k Gtd event. Fourth hand I was dealt AA and prepared to go to war.

An early position raise of 100 was re-raised by me to  280 and I waited for the inevitable fold but was amazed to see him go all in for his remaining 2900 chips. Knowing he must have AA, KK or hopefully AK I called and he flipped KK. He hit his set on the flop and made quads on the river…..I was gutted. I wanted so much to do well for the other guys after not troubling the scorers so far but I knew it was just “one of those things” and there was nothing I could have done differently. A few months ago I would not have been able to play again that evening, or at least if I had it wouldn’t have been pretty. Nowadays I have sorted my head out and just lit a cigarette, poured a drink and looked for another MTT play. PKR’s $12k Gtd looked ok to me and I registered.

PKR is a site I like, the players are pretty average and the tournaments don’t have thousands of entries.  Early on I cruised up to 3k from a starting stack of 2k without showing any hands. I tightened up and punished some marginal holdings to really build a good stack and by the end of the second break I was in the top 10 and going well. It continued as one-way traffic until we got to the last 20 players. I was watchin a frequent raiser and waiting for the right moment to re-pop them and with 99 I did just that, only to be called, I had chosen the moment they had AA……..disaster…….until a rivered 10 made me a lucky straight. I had a little more luck and played a nice mix of loose (for me that is…) of aggressive at the final table and managed to get HU but a 2/1 dog. Having put that right and got back to parity my opponent began shoving frequently so when I had 99 I decided to make the stand and called him…….he turned over K9………a dangerous board followed giving him a straight draw and then the river……it was a King and I was second. I couldn’t complain though, I’d had my luck earlier. It was my best win for some time and I was really happy and indebted as ever to my fellow EMSers wo were supporting me along the way.

I then discovered I had $800 more in my Neteller account than I realised and Woody won a big sum for the syndicate. Happy days as they say. I can even mention Spurs again but more of that next time……..

I go into my next syndicate game later today - you know, I just have this feeling……. 

Sounds like an ideal weekend eh?

Well, it wasn’t far off.  With a banging head and a rumbling stomach I boarded the 10.55 from St.Pancras on my way to Dusk til Dawn for the Team Challenge. Armed with my aching temples and two oaty biscuits from my hotel I set off, hoping to recover along the way. My hopes were not realised. Standing in the door of the station waiting for a taxi in the rain, it was a kind of so-so journey and I’m gonna make sure it never happens again….hang on, it’s not 1982, where was I? Oh yeah, feeling grotty in the East Midlands drizzle and surrounded by Palace supporters, praying for a cab. At least those prayers were answered and after a brief journey I arrived expectantly at the poker emporium…….that was shut.

Luckily a few other EMSers were there too to save me from a further soaking. Chelsea and Blacker provided the brains and the beauty (I never knew Karen was so intelligent), Mickhart the taxicab and the plans of debauchery and Crespo a misconception that I was Buffy…..sigh.

Nipped over the road for a bite to eat with Crespo, wondering how he was going to muff me over a burger and a coffee when some more EMSers rolled in. The head began to clear and the blood began to pump, live poker after too many months away was just on the horizon.  Some mild banter and registering ensued before I grabbed a drink and had a natter with Ram about team tactics. It was pretty obvious that we both feared Jeff the most, worryingly so as he was in our team. After a quick pep talk with the ageing lothario epicurian, we took our seats.

I was delighted to have Simon Trumper two seats to my left, “nice steals here” I thought ruefully. But all was not lost, on a high chair opposite sat 3N1GM4, nibbling a rusk and looking ready for action. “Should be some chips there” I noted before checking the rest of the villains. To be honest my tournament was pretty uneventful, lost a few chips quite early before doubling up with Aces before the first break. Not much really happened after that, I just bled away before making a well timed stand with Q9 against Crespo’s rockets. I enjoyed it though, even if the head had begun to throb again.

We waited around for a few hours seeing how things went before my lift back with 3N1GM4, Chris Baylis and Pottsi, not the best combo for a bad head but we had some pleasant tales of motorway carnage from Pottsi as we squinted through the driving rain and the aquaplaning Range Rovers ahead of us. After four hours of white knuckle trauma (Niggy drives like a blindfolded Stig) I slumped on the sofa and fell into a long and luxurious sleep.

Sunday was a big day for me. My favourite flat race of the season was on, The Prix De L’Arc de Triomphe. I had my eye on a French filly named Zarkava since May and started backing her in dribs and drabs from late June, she arrived at the course as the red hot favourite but none of the BBC presenters tipped her strangely enough. For once I seem to have made a good choice as she powered home convincingly to take the spoils. As a racing fan it’s always great to see a horse fulfill it’s potential and achieve a stature approaching greatness and Zarkava certainly did that. A good way to finish a top weekend.

We won’t mention Spurs.  

It was great to meet up with some famliar and some new faces at DTD and I hope to see most of you again in November. This time I will NOT turn up hungover, no way, not on your nelly, niet, zilcho chanco gringo.

It’s been a while since I’ve updated my blog, so  thought I’d take a few minutes to let you know what’s been going on over the summer.

I’ve been busy.

Ok, well I guess I’d better expand a little. The summer months are my busiset time at work and the weekends are taken up golfing to help me unwind. This leaves me little time to get active on here, although I’ve decided to post much more frequently with general thoughts and musings, starting today.

Firstly, after knocking poker on the head for a while, I am back playing, albeit on an infrequent basis. I deposited $200 each into PKR and PokerStars and have dabbled on $25nl cash tables and some MTTs with a reasonable amount of success, nothing spectacular but enough to keep me happy. PKR is a goldmine if you can play a bit, both on cash and tournaments and I have been grindig away on the Double Thru SnG tables. For those of you unfamiliar with these, the top 5 of 10 players all get 20% of the prizes, hence “Double Thru”. It is a particularly turgid way of playing but sometimes you have to weigh up the pros and cons and the success rate has been high enough for me to continue with these for a while.

I started off on the $20 tables, played 5 and made the money each time without too much fuss. There was always a weak or reckless player to double up from and then you can just sit back and wait. Moving up to the $50 tables, I was expecting a far stiffer challenge but was pleasantly surprised to find a similar standard there too. I still don’t have anywhere near a big enough sample to determine the feasibilty of putting oneself through the endless folding and limping that goes on having only played 37 of these now. All I would say is that it is an ideal table to have going on in the background if you are playing a regular MTT or at the cash tables. You don’t need much time to work out who the weak players are and who are the stronger ones and as you won’t be playing many hands you can concentrate on your other game that would usually need a little more attention. Dull but profitable, much like a card playing equivalent of Don Howe’s coaching methodology. If you can stand it give them a try.

The main thing is now that I am quite enjoying playing a little again.  We all seem to have periods when we become stale and rattled and need a rest from the crueller elements of poker. Playing with a negative attitude can be very damaging to both one’s psyche and one’s wallet…..I’m glad I took my vacance when I did. I have been playing ok I think but I usually do, which could be part of my problem. I am hoping to have some more free time over the winter and if I do decide to step up my playing hours I’ll do some proper preparation as I haven’t read anything other than posts on the forum for ages now. Maybe this will help me find exactly where I am in terms of understanding and ability.

Cash-wise I have come back playing 6 seater tables and have abandoned full ring for now. My post flop play has certainly improved as a consequence which is always good. Having a tournament reputation similar to the reason why Gibraltar is well known, it may surprise some of you that I enjoy this more active format. But I do. I play cash very differently to tournaments, especially in the tight/weak  world of PKR. I have a few cookie-jar scars on the back of my hands but also a few dollars in the account to show for it.

All in all I am a happier bunny than I was back in the late spring and hope to continue playing, winning and improving as a player . I’m looking forward to a couple of live events in the autumn and seeing some of the forum members again. Even Jeff.

Adios for now and I promise I’ll be back soon.

The 18th May, the time of year when late spring begins to give way to the first fruits of an early summer. It’s a time for colour and light, for long sunny days and smiles as warm as the days themselves.

For me it is a day steeped in darkness.

Twenty-eight years ago, a young man who gave his art everything he had, hanged himself in a modest terraced house in Macclesfield. I often wonder as the 18th May approaches what could have happened if he had taken a different road. Given what he was able to express at the age of just 23 it would surely have been stunning. Absurd as it may seem to compare him to Keats, I think the two had much in common. Poor John didn’t have the option concerning his death but he too produced some of the most glorious and beautifully touching words at a most tender age. Worlds apart but brothers in arms and spirit, their work stands as a monument to their all too brief lives.

Of all the music that I have listened to, I have never heard anything that comes close to the courage and transparancy of Ian Curtis’ lyrics. He wrote spellbinding testimonies to the troubles he found and the way that he felt in a stark and self critical manner.  I am always moved, enthralled and amazed when I listen to Joy Division, they take me to places that no other act has been able to. I am glad that he is till revered today and their music has stood the test of time but also desperately sad that he took his own life.

RIP Ian and thank you for the wonder that you left behind.

After a great deal of thought I’ve decided to knock poker on the head. I won’t bore you with bad beat stories as they are the worst, let’s just say that I’ve seen enough now and it’s best that I put poker behind me and find a new interest.

It was quite a ride and most of it is detailed in my “poker journey” posts in the blog. I think there comes a time for us all when we have to bow to a clear message. I intend to finish the current EMS leagues and then that will be that.   If it wasn’t for EMS I’d have either quit months ago or lost my entire bankroll, at least I will have a few quid to show for it to ease the pain, which may not have been the case without my friends. You know who you are and I thank you all deeply.

Not sure what lies ahead, I’ve written part of a novel and would like to explore the possibilities of writing more. For competitive kicks I may well try and improve my chess game, which really only has one way to go and work on my golf more. One thing for sure is that won’t miss poker one iota, as I type this I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shouders and I can look forward to the rest of my life in a new and refreshing light.

Once I have any more ideas I’ll update you all on here. Thanks for reading this and if you play poker yourself, I wish you all the very best of luck.  

In the early 1970’s The Grand National was in crisis. The eccentric owner, Mirabel Topham, was considering selling the course to a property development company, the finances really were that bad, it would take something special to save it. In 1973, that “something special” emerged from the shadows.

The main contenders for the race that year were L’Escargot, the dual Cheltenham Gold Cup winner, Crisp, the Australian two mile chaser and Red Rum, an improving stayer with the pedigree of a sprinter. This speed-bred, £400 horse was to take on the two Rolls Royces of the equine world over the most daunting course in the world, thirty fences and over four miles lay ahead of the triumverate.  The resulting contest produced the most thrilling and heartbreaking nine minutes of sporting drama that many have ever witnessed.

It didn’t take long for the pattern of the race to develop. From the third fence Crisp took the lead and found a rhythm that was a stride sharper than his rivals. By Becher’s  he was already in a clear lead and he ghosted over the famous Brook without touching a twig to extend his lead further still. The pack didn’t panic though, Crisp couldn’t keep this up under his top weight of 12 stone……..

By the 13th fence Crisp had drawn ten lengths clear of Grey Sombrero, who in turn lead the rest of the field by seven lengths and then at The Chair the drama took a fateful turn. Grey Sombrero fell awkwardly and the pack now found themselves twenty lengths behind the still ebulient Crisp. The quiet calm of the first circuit was replaced by concerned frowns as the riders planned their moves for the second half of the race.

On he leapt, on he galloped, Crisp continued to surge ahead pulling almost a full fence clear as he approached Becher’s for the second time, the crowd drew their breath and Crisp sailed over like a gazelle once again pulling yet farther ahead. The frowns in the pack were now grimaces, he isn’t stopping, we’ve got to do something. As their minds and bodies struggled to cope with the pressure Crisp continued his serene progress, The Canal Turn and then Valentine’s were taken with elan. Behind him though something had emerged from the struggling pack.

Red Rum moved into a clear second and began to chip away at the gallant leader. Inch by inch, stride by stride he closed. Crossing the Melling Road with just three to jump he still trailed by twenty lengths. His weight of ten stone and five pounds should now begin to tell, Crisp had to shoulder a full twenty-three pounds more than Red Rum and after more than three and a half miles it was soon going to be revealed if he could defy the burden.

Two from home and Crisp was still well clear but the first signs of tiredness were showing. At the last he jumped it well but on landing his pace slowed dramatically, so much so that for the first time in over six minutes the jockey could hear the first distant hooves of a pursuing rival.

Crisp, now desperately tired, began to swerve and the jockey made a crucial mistake, pulling his whip through to his right hand and giving the noble Australian horse a crack. Further left Crisp wandered, closer Red Rum came and the further the winning post seemed to be. Straightening out on the rail Crisp was treading water, Red Rum was making relentless progress down the centre of the track. Could he get there? Could Crisp defy all logic and hold on?

The answer did not come until the final twenty yards when a now near stationary Crisp was overtaken by Red Rum. Never in defeat has a horse given so much. Red Rum passed the post the winner, a full nineteen seconds faster than any horse in Grand National history. Half a second behind him came Crisp plus twenty three pounds of lead weight. L’Escargot finished third but such was the epic confrontational duel up front that no one really noticed.

A legend was born. Red Rum became a National hero on more than one level. His story is well documented, victory followed in 1974 when he carried twelve stone himself. Two runners-up spots were followed by an incredible third victory in 1977. His fame and the public affection for him was sky high. Virginia Wade won Wimbledon and the BBC Sports Personality of the Year but if he had been allowed to be a candidate she wouldn’t have had a look in. Red Rum was special, a true “great” in a world where that word is often used too freely to unworthy subjects.

He was made greater by Crisp. Their record stood until 1990, when two horses on very firm ground and carrying weights in the mid ten stone bracket eventually beat them. That now leaves Red Rum and Crisp as the third and fourth fastest round the Grand National course. Think of all the hundreds of horses that have set off on that gruelling path, their achievement is immense. Crisp’s even more so. In defeat and weltering that twelve stone burden he produced the most thrilling, flamboyant and ultimately, desperate display that Aintree has ever seen. By having him as a rival Red Rum’s achievement was magnified in a way that would not have been possible had he cantered home alone.  Crisp will always be a winner to me and I’ll never forget watching him that day when two legends were born and an institution was saved

Chapter 5: The EMSerald City

So there we all were just a mere 15 months ago meandering along, playing TV tables for PNL, browsing the PNL forum and shouting at Sven for picking two injured strikers, a child and a midget to play up front for England in the world cup.

One day in the PNL forum I saw a post from Ram about him being “pokered out” and he was looking for ways to fill his time while he took a break. After a quick think and a rubdown with the Racing Post I had an idea. “Write a book mate” I suggested and added “or maybe set up a tutorial web-site”. I pressed the submit button and innocently went about my normal early summer business of hitting balls into fields, thumping my steering wheel in traffic jams (one day it will clear the road ahead, it will) and having a laugh with the Shellby gang. (see chapt 4). Then it happened…….the clocks stopped, children stood open-mouthed in awe, grandparents coughed on their stale biscuits and Dean even nearly won a hand with AK………EatMyStack was up on the internetz (patent Paddy).

It was the dawn of a new era.

Initially I still used the PNL forum and had the odd look across to see what was going on and noticed Ram had set up a league. I didn’t play at first and I am pretty sure that there were just thirteen players for the first couple of weeks. As the numbers (including me) gradually increased and the forum’s membership rose and rose, I dropped PNL and always went to EMS first for my dose of news, gossip, tips, stories and poker tragedies.

The early days of EMS remind me now of the words of a fine poet:

Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven

Some of the members even qualified for both criteria but although I did not I took comfort that I was still younger than Balrog and Jag.

I know that we are all amazed at the rapid growth of EMS and enjoy the great community spirit that exists within it. Poker can be a lonely path to tread but having a few mates cheering you and encouraging you from the rail is a special feeling that makes the game so much more enjoyable. If EMS has given us one thing it is that escape from solitutude at the tables and a set of friends that will do whatever they can for one another. Quite an achievement I’m sure you will agree. (5 minute break as I wipe some moisture from my eye……)

On a more hard-nosed front we now enjoy many fiscal benefits from our play and have some of the best leagues (if not the best winners of those leagues) on the interwebs (patent Paddy) in my not so humble opinion. Ram and a few devoted followers work so hard to deliver and I publically thank you all here.

Obviously on a personal note winning season 1 of the freezeout league was a high point (come on, you didn’t really ever believe I could go without mentioning it at least once) and I have many others along the way. I love popping into IRC for some banter and abuse, checking up on challenges, putting a bet on with Ken the bookie and seeing if Chip can play 250,000 hands in a minute whilst eating a bowl of cornflakes.

The best part of EMS for me though was our big live event in Birmingham. Much has already been documented on this and I won’t expand much on that other than I had a great time and was pleasantly surprised that everyone was as bizarre (Ian) and funny (the rest of you) as they were on-line. Roll on the next one, miss it at your peril.

So over the years I’ve had some scrapes, some fights ( my apologies to the many that I have upset), some victories, plenty of losses, cramp at a crucial moment, disconnections, celebrations and commiserations on my poker journey. The best part of it all was ending up here amongst you lot. I feel like Dorothy bursting into a technicolour dream from a black and white nothingness. My tornado that brought me here is called Ramchip, a man that never sleeps, never ceases taking my blinds and never says two words when three hundred will do. Ram, I thank you beyond the bounds of quantifiable words for all that you have done for me and everyone reading this. (Apart from the blinds part you rotten git)

I only hope what lies ahead is as much fun as the past and that we all punish the Scandis for their annoying and increasingly optimistic calls and retire young (sorry Jeff, too late) to pleasant pastures.

It’s time for a new journey to begin now and I look forward to travelling the way with you all. I am priviliged to do so.

Chapter 4: PNL, SNG and FFS

Like most people who stumbled across PNL, I couldn’t resist the urge to play on television. Watching other people was certainly informative and entertaining but let’s face it, you can’t beat seeing your own game put through the wringer can you? At the start it was Tom and Axxe of course, live from the broom cupboard well after my bed time. It was great stuff for a poker nut like me and I will never forget Axxe’s play on there, it was a real eye opener as well as being bloody scary. Bleary eyed at work the next day I would replay the advice and what I had seen over in my mind, could I really not join in in this? Well of course not, I simply had to get stuck in with the TV stars.

It began for me at Spin Palace, only because that site happened to be the sponsor on the show when I decided to try my hand at the TV tables. In fact; I’ll whisper this so noone else can hear, so don’t tell anyone this or I’ll sound stupid ok? This is just between you and me, if the usual suspects find out I’ll be ribbed mercilessly; I only used to play twice a week to start with as I knew nothing about the Prima network and thought that the sponsoring site was the one that you had to use if you wanted to play on the show. How dumb was I? Anyway, after an excited 5 minutes of registering I opened the old Orange $10 TV SNG table and waited for a game to finish. When I eventually got in I had seat 4, Hoof inevitably on my right and GAN and Cyberdoc were also at the table. The pre-Shellby days were very fast and with only 1000 starting chips the room for manoeuvre was very limited which was something I had to adjust to as quickly as the blinds themselves rose.

My first game limped along without any major incidents until I was dealt QQ with about 750 chips left. Cyberdoc limped from UTG and I pushed all in from the button, he called with KJ (ffs number 1 about to appear) a happy flop was followed by the most miserable of turns as the dreaded king hit. I was out and miffed and muffed in equal measure. Then came my chatbox debut “Still getting lucky I see Doc” I typed bitterly, to which he quipped “F**k you”. A lovely warm welcome only rivalled by that of Marie Antoinette as she mounted the scaffold. Undeterred I waited and played again and again and again.

I can’t really remember how I got to know the gang on Orange but I do recall that the line up usually consisted of:

Seat 1: Shellbytxc
Seat 2: GAN
Seat 3: Hoof
Seat 4: AN Other (Farse/Posh/Ginger/Sausages/3N1GM4 et al)
Seat 5: Me
Seat 6: Buffy
Seat 7: Balrog
Seat 8: Scottie

Many battles were fought over the ensuing weeks and I learned an awful lot from the play. Mainly that Hoof is tight and very unlucky (ffs), Buffy is quite tight and extremely lucky, Balrog is tight and fairly unlucky and that Scottie will beat any hand I played with any holding at all. Wretched nemesis…..

Then of course things changed. The longer structured Shellby table appeared and brought with it 2000 starting chips and the ill-conceived “Beat the Presenter” concept. I say ill-conceived because I feel that this, more than anything made the show too formulaic and reduced traffic on the TV tables away from the BTP slot.

The Shellby games were much better, there was scope for more “creativity” in the early rounds and I felt that my play began to improve another notch or two. I had very few BTP clashes myself; I remember playing Malcolm Harwood one night and knocking him out and having to deal with Michelle and Lynsey on the odd occasion. The highlight though was certainly playing against Casper in the middle of his legendary hot streak. He had an invincible aura at the time and it was a real challenge to take him on, especially as he was in seat 1 and me in seat 2. Casper came back from an early crippling to win and beat me heads up, he really was a machine at that time. I loved that game and was happy to have made it so far in that company.

I was also a fairly regular player of the PNL MTT. I managed to win it four or five times and also won the much missed Spin Palace 2k added Friday special. Always good fun those, as was the PNL League, to start with anyway. A terrific idea that was allowed to drift away from what it was originally intended to achieve. There were so many false promises about it that it really disillusioned me and I wondered just how long PNL could survive without a more attentive approach to the people that gave the presenters something to discuss. Don’t get me wrong here, I loved PNL and I have much time and respect for every presenter, a few of whom I owe a great deal but I did think that League was a great opportunity wasted.

On a more positive note we all had a real blast with the presenters. There were many magic moments along the way as we shared our journey together. Casper and Nick’s rapport was wonderful, Matt’s comic timing a joy and Mark and James offered opposing advice and occasional comic gems too. Then there was the man who is drier than James Bond’s martini, Dr Tom, what a man. The three ladies added a new aspect to the show and must have been a very reassuring shoulder for the novices who tuned in. Their improvement over the months was clear to see even if one in particular hadn’t improved quite as much as she seemed to believe herself. No names – I’ll leave it to you to decide.

The PNL forum was our meeting place of course and it was there that an everyday reply to a simple question helped to change the post-modern world as we know it……..

Chapter 3. The road to Damascus

Getting back to grips with Paradise was proving fruitful. My SNG stats were improving and MTT performances were steady if unremarkable. I used to enjoy playing a couple of $20-$25 Freezouts on there and logged in keenly on Good Friday to play the 3pm Freeze after a few days off poker. Imagine my surprise to see that it had been moved to 4pm…..why has that happened I wondered innocently. There was the wonderfully named “Monkey R&A” on at 3pm, a $20 rebuy event with about 650 players, but I wasn’t mad about rebuy tourneys but was also too impatient to wait so I went for it anyway. I’m crazy, me.It then dawned on me that our clocks had just been changed to BST - “so that’s why the times are different” I said, the gift of realisation warming my little cockles.Totally unaware of my dunce-like qualities I focused on the now opening table and prepared for battle.

Now this was 3 years ago I believe so the exact details are a little foggy but I didn’t have to rebuy thanks to my lovely ladies hitting a set vs an optimistic AJ, although Abner from Arkansas was unimpressed as he hit his Ace on the flop. I revelled in being called a “lucky backward ****head” and took another few hundred off him two hands later when my 45s made a straight against his JJ. I am still waiting for my Christmas card from dear old Abner.

Anyway - after about 2-3 hours the site had a server upgrade……sigh. So it was a 45 minute break. I had a bite to eat, watched the end of King of Kings and refreshed my glass. I survived into the final 20 - I was 18th at the time and was hopeful of making the FT for a decent pay off. I sat tight and a few were knocked out which left me 13th of 13 remaining but not without hope. A double through on the FT bubble solidified my position and I then moved right up there when my AJ beat A10 and KK took out AQ.

We were down to the final 6 fairly quickly and I was in third and sweating a bit now. I knew this was a big chance for big payout and I really concentrated hard to make the most of it. Then one guy just hit a rush of cards and knocked two more out. Just four left and I was still third, pushing and folding and never, ever calling anyone. Then I was dealt 77, four handed even I raise with this and I got a call. The flop, bless it, came K73, my opponent had KQ, now we were three.

At this stage I had about 475k, the chip leader around 575k and the other guy 125k. I was in the BB and almost fell off my seat as I looked down at AA. Please raise, please raise I prayed……the chip leader bet 80k, thank you Lord…..I raised all in and he called with AK. The flop came K high and after a buttock clenching turn and river my rockets held and I knew now that victory was in sight. My 1million chips against two guys on 100k each.

Next hand I took out the player who was in 3rd with AJ and then the coup de grace was delivered when KJ took down A4….muffing as usual. It took seven hours and I only played as I hadn’t realised the uS times were now out of sync with the UK but I had just had my biggest poker win by some distance, a cool $6,600. I cracked open a bottle of champagne and had a very pleasant evening.

The summer continued without any dramas but one night I discovered channel 226 - you know what that meant……..PNL came into my life and brought Hoof, Buffy, Scottie, Balrog and GAN with it. Things would never be the same again. I know most of you will know all about PNL and I won’t elaborate any more here but it really improved my game. Playing the tv SNG tables was so tough and I found out very quicky that AJ was total pants, 33 a folly and that Buffy was very excitable. Hoof also must have worn down the keys of “f” and “s” as his AK lost to AJ yet again - “ffs, dominating hand theory” would sweep across the chatbox with alarming regularity.

I guess most of you know the rest but 1 chapter still remains……