Odds Mean Nothing When God's Made You Lucky
By Pól Ó Conghaile
Phat Traffic Productions
Special to The Irish American Post
 

"There are two times in a man's life when he should not speculate: when he can't afford it, and when he can."

Mark Twain had it sussed. Shame we never listened to him. But the deaf ear turned makes more and more sense when you journey back into Ireland's love affair with gambling. Did you know, for example, that the Celts were fond of rolling the odd dice? Do you remember from your school days how Diarmaid influenced the stakes in a primitive game of chess, pegging nuts onto the board from his perch in a tree? Mark Twain be damned. Odds mean nothing when you believe God has made your race a little luckier.
Of course, astute governmental maneuvering in the late 20th century has long since turned a taboo industry into a legal national pastime. Set up in 1987 "to raise and maximize revenue for beneficiary projects," the National Lottery has since witnessed 12 consecutive years of growth, culminating this year in a whopping intake of almost £350 million. It seems innocent enough, but isn't that an awful lot of money to be flitting away on scratchcards?
Well no, according to a National Lottery spokesperson. "Playing the Lotto isn't gambling. With gambling people feel as if they have an influence over the outcome, but the lottery is a game of pure chance. Unless of course, you spent the necessary £3.9 million to buy out all 5.2 million combinations, but that's not a realistic option, is it?"

In its lifespan, the National Lottery has created upwards of 120 millionaires. Do they provide a post-windfall counseling service? "No. Our job is to sell lottery tickets. We do however, give basic advice in relation to what the winner should do next. As regards long-term financial planning, we strongly recommend they get professional, financial advice," indicated the Lottery representative.

Sound advice indeed, when you consider the kind of behavior Lotto fever is capable of provoking. In February, 1999, for instance, a woman appeared in Cork Circuit Criminal Court charged with specimen charges of stealing scratch cards, Lotto receipts, cash, cigarets and other goods from a local shop in Skibbereen - alleged Lotto capital of Ireland. Her counsel said she was tempted by the massive sums recently won in the town. "There was Lotto fever in Skibbereen, and she succumbed to temptation," the counsel indicated. And she hadn't even won!

Despite what the National Lottery says, it is not inconceivable that a penchant for scratchcards could quickly have one spiraling into the bowels of gambling hell. If you can resist that, you're probably cursed with a functioning brain, but for the purposes of this article at least, next stop poker.

Depending on your outlook on gambling, poker can be one of two things. Either a) the card game Steve McQueen played in the Cincinnati Kid, or b) a 36-hour, whiskey- soaked trip that isn't worth the ride if you don't end up with the butt of a gun buried in your forehead, a Wise Guy's hand down your pants and a bank account three grand in the hole.
Luke McManus should know - he produced a documentary on the topic, Million Dollar Deal. "Poker is a harmless form of aggression. You're testing yourself against friends - it's a wonderful social thing and cheaper than a night out in the pubŠ usually," he said. In Ireland, the game thrives in family living rooms and in Dublin's backstreets - particularly the Jackpot and the Colossus off Camden Street.

McManus' documentary followed the fortunes of Irish participants in a recent World Poker Series. Held annually in Las Vegas, "the Wimbledon of Poker" witnesses 360 players forking out $10,000 a head, in the hope of winning the coveted title and a hefty, $1,000,000 pot. Contrary to what one might think, the Irish are quite a dab hand too. In 1999, the year subsequent toMcManus' film, Noel Furlong won the thing, Padraig Parkinson came third and George McKeever finished seventh - Irishmen one and all. 

"They're doing well but they don't get the coverage at home," McManus explained. "Poker isn't regarded as a game of skill here, plus the players are publicity shy and -- it has to be said -- not very televisual. They participate in a cloistered environment -- the players are so obsessed with what they do that they think people who don't play for a living simply don't understand."
The fact however, that there is a strict ban on alcohol in Dublin's illicit card clubs, effectively means poker will remain an underground sport. "It's a marketing thing too," as McManus said. "The clubs have a small, steady clientele and they want to keep it that way."

Which, for the time being, suits the bookmaker just fine. Take Paddy Powers for instance: they have a 30% market share in Ireland and record an annual turnover of approximately £150 million. So what's a typical client? "We don't have one," said Ciarán Burke, race-room manager. "Everyone likes a bet. Ireland is a chance-taking nation, a nation of punters. They come from all walks of life."

It's a well-documented fact that the introduction of all-weather dog tracks and in-house TV systems significantly boosted the trade from the 1960s onwards. How has that affected things on the ground? "The stereotype is gone. You don't have the punter in the trenchcoat and cap anymore. The shops are clean and friendly, we've had credit card punting for three years and with the tax changes we have much more customers betting from overseas."

Speaking of overseas, a UK newspaper recently announced that off-course betting habits have fallen by 12.5% since the introduction of the lottery there in 1994. Is a similar thing happening in Ireland?
"No. Sky Sports have completely revamped the whole thing for us," said Burke. "Take cricket. Two or three years ag, you wouldn't have had anyone betting on it in Ireland, but now they go for anything that's live. GAA is relatively new too -- they bet on how many goals or points will be converted in a match."

Soccer continues to grow, too. Manchester United's 1998 treble, for example, cost Powers £500,000. But as children flock to the beautiful game in droves, the friendly new atmosphere meant that amount was quickly recouped. Some are not so keen about the changes. "The current effort by casinos all over the country to attract families to their premises - families! - is nothing short of unspeakable," wrote Arthur Frommer recently in his Budget Travel magazine. "(It) should condemn the perpetrators and the parents who heed their call to some level of Dante's hell," he fumed.

Our final port of call is an ostensibly harmless breed. Novelty bets make for a good stocking filler, but do they ever pay? "We've been caught on some," was Ciarán Burke's coy reply. "We were really stung with the Simpsons. You remember the whole 'Who Shot Mr. Burns' thing? We had odds for Maggie at 500:1, but some kids had seen the episode in the States before it was broadcast here and their parents came in and put down up to £30 a piece. We ended up paying out £18,000. What can I say? If you're caught with your trousers down, you have to pay."

Which, for Irish punters anyway, is gambling in a nutshell. Final words of advice? If you're thinking of relocating here and taking up gambling as a career, at least heed Woody Allen's advice, "Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasons."