In north Dublin last weekend, Steven Carroll tried his hand in one of the biggest poker events ever staged outside the US

POKER PLAYERS ARE creatures of habit. They love riffling their chips between their fingers. They love talking in code that has developed around the game. And more than anything, they love telling a hard luck story.

"I was playing here last night and I flopped nine flush draws and do you know how many of them I hit?" asked a bespectacled player shortly after we sat at our table.

"Go on," an uninterested listener said.

"I didn't hit one. I had 18 chances and I didn't hit one. I could have won a fortune," he lamented.

The table fell silent, bar the distinct chinking sound made only by poker chips. Nobody really seemed to care, but someone had to say something. It was a hard luck tale and we were sitting around a poker table.

"That's poker," I said.

The table fell silent again and the bespectacled man nodded his head. He received the closure to his night of woe he desired, just as the dealer shuffled her deck so we could get on with the game.

Undoubtedly the bespectacled man's bad beat story was one of thousands told at the Regency Hotel in north Dublin last weekend.

Some 1,300 players travelled there from across the continent to take part in the Boylepoker International Poker Open, the biggest poker tournament ever staged outside the US and certainly the largest event most of us who participated had ever entered.

The field was so large the organisers had to hold two opening days to cater for the masses. Each of the entrants, ranging from seasoned professionals to rank amateurs, paid €150 for their seat, all eager to share in the €205,000 prize pool.

I took my seat at the table at 1.30pm on Saturday and I was anxious. It was the first poker tournament I had played since January. I only played online sporadically since then and I was afraid the patience needed to go far in a large event had deserted me.

Seconds into our opening hand the tournament director announced the first casualty of the day, so I settled in to my seat on table 19 (of 65 tables) quicker than expected and grew accustomed to the chorus of chips clinking around us.

I sat next to a young professional player from Kent and we struck up a conversation. I decided to raise the pot with a meagre holding, the 10 and six of clubs, hoping my inactivity would give off an impression of strength.

The Kent man didn't buy it and was the only caller of my bet. All pleasantries were off.

The dealer fortuitously placed a 10 and two clubs on the board, giving me a pair and four clubs to a flush. I bet just less than the pot and the young pro called. The next card brought my fifth club; I had a flush and a stranglehold on the hand.

I bet strongly. He asked how many chips I had left while maintaining a stern poker face, but unfortunately my shaky excited hands gave my strength away as I fumbled my chips and he threw his cards away, before resuming our conversation.

Sadly, that was about as good as my day got. I ran three tens into a fortuitous hand held by my bespectacled counterpart about an hour later. and I came thoroughly undone when my pair of queens was bettered by three fives.

By 7pm my tournament was over with about 400 players remaining.

I retired to the Regency Bar to try to come to terms with my disappointment, and I discussed my bad beat story over a drink with Pádraig Parkinson, an Irish poker professional whose even earlier exit provided some consolation.

Pádraig said he has learned over the years to get over the disappointment poker can throw at you and to focus on the potential for winning next time around.

"A friend of mine once told me poker doesn't build character, it just tests it. Horrible things can happen. You can play your absolute best and end up losing all your chips when it matters the most.

"It's all about rolling with the punches and that's why so many guys who play poker can't handle it because you're going to get unlucky, sometimes when it's life-changing, but if you worry about it for longer than five minutes afterwards you're just wasting your time."

I finished my drink and took Pádraig's advice with me as I looked for a seat in one of the tournament side games.

I saw the bespectacled man disappointedly looking for a new game to play.

"You won't believe what happened to me after you got knocked out," he said.

"Go on," I replied.