In the late 70s, Irish poker player Colette Doherty took a Neil Armstrong like step for women in Irish poker. She had been playing in smaller house games when she got an invitation to play in Donnacha O’Dea’s big game, and caused quite a stir when she showed up. Some of the dinosaurs who played in that game thought it very funny that a woman was going to play a man’s game, rather than play for turkeys or tins of biscuits at Christmas. The laughing stopped when Colette proved to be a good winner in the game over several months. She told me years ago that she didn’t say much in those games as she quickly figured out the smart move was to shut up and listen to Donnacha’s analysis of the play in various hands. Clever girl. She has told me that story again several times over the years. It was still good value the last time I heard it a couple of months ago!
Then along came Terry Rogers. He had accidentally visited the WSOP in Binions in the late seventies, spotted the potential for NLH tournaments to become huge, and befriended fellow visionary Benny Binion. In no time at all, he founded The Eccentric’s Club in Dublin and ran the first ever NLH tournaments in Europe. There was no keeping Colette away from this! Being Colette, she had to win the first Irish Open in 1980, and became the first Irish player to play in the WSOP Main Event. This lady did things her way!
I played a lot with Colette in a dealer’s choice game in the eighties. We were normally the last two to leave. Colette regarded anyone who left a game within 24 hours of sitting down as guilty of a hit and run! One morning in The Griffen Club, Colette, myself and another player were still playing at 8 a.m., the game having started at 8 p.m. the previous evening. Everyone else, including all the staff, had gone home. Then David Jackson showed up and wanted to play. He stank of soap and aftershave and had obviously got up early and came in search of victims who were tired and tilted. He’d come to the right place.
Colette told him he could only play if he played a minimum of three hours. He reluctantly agreed and started to play. After an hour, he was up nearly three grand and was looking at the door like a puppy who thought he heard someone say “walkies”. He then said he was hungry and was going to the kitchen to make a few sandwiches. After twenty minutes, I was sent down to see what was going on. Jacko had buttered every slice of bread in the place and was emptying the fridge to make sandwiches. OMG. I’ve been at weddings and funerals where less food was supplied.
Eventually, after running half an hour off the clock, he returned to the game and sat back down surrounded by a few tons of assorted sandwiches. Colette was furious! The poker gods didn’t approve of Jacko’s gamesmanship and helped us to dog him a few times and get back what he’d been winning. He wasn’t a happy camper. He got even more unhappy when he had gone three thousand behind when 11 a.m. came around. Colette smiled and told him he could leave now if he wished. She then said “It’s not all bad. At least we have plenty of sandwiches” Jesus!!! I almost had a seizure. So did Jacko. He stormed out and banged the door so loud on his way out he probably scared half the population of South Dublin. That was Colette at her finest.
Just in case anyone thought Colette’s Irish Open win was a fluke, she won it again in 1991. One of her victims that day was Andy Black, who she eliminated in fifth or sixth place when his J5 came unstuck. He has spent half his life trying to put that right. Colette could do that kind of thing to you!!
One of the fun days with Colette was when she let Scott Gray and I take a piece of her in the ladies event at the WSOP in Binions one year. We didn’t win any money but got great value anyway. This was before the time when real poker players like Jennifer Tilly put the event on the map. On the first break, Colette told us most of the women were Texan and not surprisingly spoke with a Texan drawl which she couldn’t stand. I was about to tell her we were visitors in their country and that meant they could speak any way they liked, but common sense intervened and I kept my mouth shut. A rare event. On the next break, she went on a rant about her opponents trying to show her pictures of their grandkids. Jesus!! I got the impression they were lucky she didn’t have a gun. Or maybe that was just me. Thankfully, Colette’s involvement ended with no money and no bloodshed. A good day out!!
When I relocated to Paris, Colette visited a few times She loved the dealer’s choice games in the Aviation Club. She spoke zero French. Showed no mercy. And the French liked her. How crazy was that? The French don’t even like The French. I was back in Ireland a few years before Covid, so got to play with Colette a couple of nights a week in The Fitz. She told me she’d won well in the big PLO game there, but quit when she started to notice she was making small mistakes after she turned eighty. So, she decided to keep the money and torture the poor bastards in the smaller game instead. Typical!
After covid, Namir and I took Colette, Peter and his lovely wife Mado out for lunch at Christmas. It was very crazy. Colette was bright as a button and full of stories. I talked her into joining us in The Sporting Emporium a few weeks later to play a little PLO for a few hours. Old and new Colette fans showed up to meet and play with a proper legend. Colette arrived in a wheelchair but abandoned it at the door of the casino floor and walked to the table with her head held high. That tells you all you need to know about the lady.
Sadly, there was no repeat appearance. It was too hard. Big pity as she and we were robbed of a lot of laughter. Although she did come for lunch again at Christmas. Namir’s lovely wife joined us and in a rare inspired bit of thinking, I phoned Donnacha and he was more than happy to come along. It was a lovely afternoon out. Old school!
Couple of weeks ago I got a call from Peter on a Saturday morning. Colette had left us but left us her way. No hospitals, doctors, nursing home or hospices for Colette. She died as shed lived.
Peter and Mado did her proud at the memorial service. In his eulogy, he quoted me as saying “beneath the classy feminine exterior beat the heart of a gladiator with the compassion of a contract killer.” I didn’t remember writing that, but I was glad I did. I don’t write that good. Mado spoke in her own language to her relatives who were watching on the live stream. I don’t know what she said. It was all Greek to me.
I had a few drinks with Donnacha and Scott before going to play in The Sporting Emporium. I was given a seat beside Claudia Friel, a talented young Irish player with the aggression and table presence of a young Colette. She could follow worse footsteps.
If you’re reading this Colette, put me on the list for whatever game you’re in. You’re a pain in the ass to play against but who cares as long as the craic is good.
