Life is full of ups and downs.
The peaks and valleys are amplified even more so for professional poker players.
At times, poker can be an exhilarating profession. However, more often the game is a lonely and dispiriting pursuit, riled with frustration.
Neil Channing knows this perhaps better than anyone.
The London-based cash-game poker pro has ridden a perpetual roller coaster and endured obstacle courses for much of his adult life. He’s won major tournament victories. He’s backed previously unknown players who made championship final tables. He written about poker extensively. He’s selflessly shared what he knows with others. He’s succcessfully handicapped sporting events for consistent profit. But Neil’s most remarkable accomplishment and endearing quality seems to be the universal respect and admiration he receives from just about everyone.
I suppose that’s the highest form of currency. While fame and fortune are acheiveable by just about anyone given a fortunate break or two, to be adored and appreciated by so many of one’s peers is truly the ultimate benchmark and pinnacle of success. To that end, Neil is the true champion of us all.
Today, I was saddened to learn Black Belt Poker, Neil’s co-creation and the passion of his life for the better part of the last decade, will be closing down soon. A sign of changing times perhaps, player-freindly Black Belt Poker hoped to shake up what was once a rapidly-expanding online poker market in the U.K.. But the numbers and financials didn’t work out, which now means Neil will have to move on to something else. Whatever that is, you can be sure he’ll give it 110 percent. The POKER FUSE article on Black Belt Poker and its closing can be read here.
A few years ago, Neil finished second in an event at the World Series of Poker in Las Vegas. I remember the moment well. Most people would be thrilled with such an accomplishment, particularly the prize money that was earned, which was a quarter-million dollars. However, in my many years covering WSOP gold bracelet events, I’ve never seen someone take defeat so hard, yet with such profound dignity.
SEE FOOTNOTE BELOW
It’s become a cliche to suggest that how one takes defeat defines character. But to a large extent, it’s true. We learn more about a person and who they really are in the face of the challenges, not victories. Anyone can be the good guy when he wins. But show me someone who takes a loss or two, and remains true to his character. That’s class. That’s something to admire.
Just as true is the notion that we do owe a serious debt of gratitude to people like Neil, the pioneers who dared to try and be the game-changers, blazing new paths not just for themselves, but for everyone else.
Let this column be exactly that — a sincere thank you to Neil Channing, along with good wishes that the next game he plays will be a winning one.
Footnote: This seems a good time to reflect. Here’s an exerpt of the official report I wrote of that event, which sums up Neil Channing, the poker player:
“Henry Lu’s Ecstasy and Neil Channing’s Agony”
This is the story of a comeback and a tragedy.
It is the story of a thrilling moment of triumph and the shattering devastation of defeat.
It is the story of pleasure. It is the story of pain.
This is the story of Henry Lu and Neil Channing, who squared off in an epic heads-up duel in the most recent championship event at the 2012 World Series of Poker. The marvelous and miraculous story of how these two men – so utterly different in just about every way – came to face each other heads-up in the showdown of all poker showdowns.
Channing has been around the British poker scene for what seems like an eternity. Unquestionably the most beloved, yet long-suffering English poker player on record, Channing has watched virtually everyone around him win major poker titles and WSOP gold bracelets. On most of these historic occasions, Channing was right there sitting in the front row, clapping and cheering the loudest. Utterly selfless and overly generous, Channing is an old-school poker player with personal characteristics and defining qualities that in some ways makes him the envy of the poker world.
Twenty years Channing’s junior, Lu grew up thousands of miles from Channing’s London flat, in the Brooklyn asphalt jungle known as Bensonhurst. Unlike Channing, Lu’s fondness for the game and skill as a player stemmed largely from his experiences playing online. Since Lu was not old enough to play in a live casino, he spent much of his time playing poker on the Internet. Indeed, if Channing was the live poker ying, then Lu was the online poker yang. These two polar opposites should never have met anywhere close to a final table, let alone played heads-up for a WSOP title.
Consider what happened on Day Three, two spots away from the official final table of nine. Lu appeared to be destined for a near-certain 11th place finish. Had he actually finished 11th in this tournament, that would have brought no shame or embarrassment. In fact, Lu would have been relatively pleased with his finish — outlasting 2,670 other players and collecting $37,657 (11th-place prize money). Lu wasn’t just low on chips and close to elimination. He practically had one foot out the door and a key in the ignition of the rental car. Lu was down to barely more than two big blinds in his stack.
If the poker expression, “a chip and a chair” originated with the late great former world champ Jack Straus, then Lu’s updated version of the concept would most certainly be “a big blind and a chair.” Lu managed to win that crucial all-in moment, when his pocket sevens held up against ace-jack. Lu doubled up. He doubled up again. Then, a short time later, he doubled up again — and again. Perhaps Rome wasn’t built in a day, but Lu’s chip castle was most certainly constructed in a period of about two hours.
And while all this was going on, while Lu was making a fantastic comeback, Channing could not have possibly cared less. Why should he have cared or been worried? Channing was rolling along like a steamroller, absolutely pulverizing everything in path, inching close to that first gold bracelet victory each time a chair was yanked and more chips found a new home in the portly possession of Channing.
So, these two men arrived at the final table, which was played on a Monday evening in front of a packed gallery of spectators. Over the course of the next several hours, Lu played tournament poker in a manner well beyond what anyone could have possibly expected given his relatively brief WSOP resume and live-action playing experience.
If Lu’s survival instincts were impressive, then Channing’s mastery of playing the super stack was awe-inspiring. No one at the table got a break. If he had an opponent in a proverbial choke hold, the next move was to snap the poor victim’s neck. If the disadvantaged adversary was on the ground, symbolically speaking, Channing was the one pushing the mop removing the human debris, cleaning off the grand stage for what he hoped would eventually become a British victory celebration.
Channing had every right to feel confident – perhaps even overly so. Everything was going perfectly. He held a big chip lead. When the heads-up showdown was finally reached at about 10 p.m., many observers looked upon the two men at the final table in the manner that a coronation was about to take place. Lu had already “won” in a sense, managing to take a single blind at one point and rocket his stack up to at least second-place prize money. No one could have possibly foreseen – not Lu and certainly not Channing — that this would turn into the blood-match of the 2012 WSOP.
For all of Lu’s obvious disadvantages against Channing – less high-limit experience, a three-to-1 chip disparity, and perhaps even less hunger to win – he did enjoy one huge edge. And that edge could be summed in one simple word – pressure.
Lu had none of it, Channing had all of it. Lu had no pressure on him whatsoever to win. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t supposed to be sitting at the final table. And, he certainly wasn’t supposed to be heads-up playing for a gold bracelet.
By contrast the weight of the world was on the shoulders of Channing. He wasn’t carrying a wheelbarrow. Channing was hauling a quarry.
Indeed, Lu was on a giant emotional and financial freeroll. He vowed to have a good time and enjoy his first experience at a WSOP final table. This is not to say that Lu took things lightly, nor did he play recklessly. To the contrary, he played near-flawless poker for the next four hours, perhaps even finding talent and skills that he never knew existed.
No one would dare suggest that having a big chip lead or being within a hand of victory is a disadvantage. But there’s something inherently uncomfortable about having everything be so, so close, with everyone in the world watching, and waiting for that elusive moment of victory. Channing didn’t just want to win for Neil’s sake. He wanted to win for them. All of them.
Channing played an extraordinary match. He committed no discernible mistakes. In fact, if Channing had the chance to d play them the same way.
But if Channing played a great match, then Lu played a brilliant one. Down by a 9 to 2 margin on two occasions, the fearless Brooklynite never panicked. He never tilted. He picked just the right spots each time when he committed his he had slightly the best of it against the tenacious Englishman.
The grueling duel slowly took its toll. From the look on Channing’s face, he seemed to sense everything was slowly slipping away. And, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Four hours after the showdown began, Lu had seized the chip lead by a small margin.
The final hand of the tournament was dealt when Lu flopped over 4-4 against Channing’s A-J suited. The two players would essentially race for a gold bracelet. The next 45 seconds would determine the new poker champion.
As if the poker gods wanted to tempt, tease and ultimately torture poor Channing a little while longer, the evasive savior card that could have catapulted him to poker bliss did not come.
A mob of at least a dozen supporters stormed across the big stage and mobbed their colleague. One half of the stage was complete bedlam. Hugging. Cheering. Celebration. The other half of the stage resembled a funeral. Alas, dreams at least for now.
Channing’s supporters sat in stunned silence. A deafening echo of cheers rang through the gallery filling the cavernous void that was in the hearts of the Channingites. All they could do was watch helplessly, no doubt searching for the solace that could bandage the wound of a man they loved and respected.
It was a party that many thought should have been Channing’s. Meanwhile, the disbelieving Londoner continued to sit at that table. He sat and sat. He waited. Utterly dejected, Channing could not bear to look anywhere in particular – not at the opposite site of the arena engulfed in jubilant celebration, and certainly not at his supporters, who he must have felt were utterly let down by what they saw.
Channing continued in his state of trance. Looking straight ahead. Blindsided. It was as though he was waiting for something to happen, anything to happen, some miracle – a stretcher perhaps – that could instantly transport him out of this utter hell of bitter disappointment.
As the celebration gradually faded and quieted, Channing finally stood up from his seat. He looked ahead, trying desperately to find the path of least resistance, searching for the avenue that could ease the pain of defeat. But for Channing, that street did not exist. There was but one path to take, and the walk of defeat was a painful one.
The portraits of ecstasy and agony were emblazoned in the memories of everyone who was here on this night to witness one comeback and one tragedy. The culmination of the great comeback was a glimmering cylinder of gold.
Photographs were taken. Interviews were conducted. Then, there was even more celebration.
As all this was happening, just over the massive crowd swarming around the latest WSOP winner, Channing shuffled away slowly in dead silence, hopelessly consoled by the only people in this world who could share and empathize with the heartbreaking disappointment. Channing tottered past the gallery.
Slowly, they began to clap. They began to cheer.
Then, the cheers grew louder and louder.
They knew a champion when they saw one.
The complete OFFICIAL REPORT of 2012 WSOP, Event #43 can be read here.