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Best of R.D. Ellison

Gaming Guru

 

The Sophisticated Biker

25 July 1999

All the craps tables in the Frontier casino were filled, except for an opening next to the stickman at the middle table. Without hesitation, I grabbed the spot.

The player to my right immediately caught my attention. A big, noisy biker type with tattoos, metal studs on his outfit, and long hair halfway down his back. But it was his chips, not his appearance, which caught my eye. He had a couple thousand dollars in greens in his tray and a stack of chips fifteen inches high, representing his wager, on the Don’t Pass line. Every so often he would toss out a nickel to the stickman and say, "Big Red for the shooter," trying to encourage a seven-out.

As the dice moved around the table, I watched his technique, with a bizarre mixture of loathing and admiration. At the beginning of each shooter’s roll, he covered all of the non-point numbers for $50 each, and collected two to three hundred dollars from those before pulling them down and waiting for the seven-out, which would net him several hundred dollars more.

Shooter after shooter, he continued to play on that basis, as the trend obligingly held up.

When the dice reached his two pals just ahead of him, he switched his bets from the Don’t side to the Do side. "Bad move," I said to myself, knowing that capricious favoritism has no place at the craps tables. Didn’t matter. He won those bets as well. Then the dice came to him.

He bet on himself the same way he did for his buddies, betting the pass line for the first point attempt, and don’t pass for the second. The man could not lose. Every bet he made was golden.

When the dice came to me, he lost a bundle to my come-out seven. He upped his Don’t bet to a stack of greens twenty inches high. In the end, I didn’t disappoint.

Later on, he got into an argument with the boxman, who had started to complain that his chip piles were too high, for his stacks on the Don’t Pass had grown to where they were truly unstable. The biker, trying to get his way, argued that a relative of his was a casino executive there at the Frontier.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The crudest, swarthiest player in the whole casino, playing the shrewdest game of craps I had ever seen.

But there is an explanation: it’s one more shining example of the unexplainable, which you can find every day in the casinos.

© 1999 Rick D. Ellison

R.D. Ellison
R.D. Ellison is a professional gambler with more than twenty years of successful gaming experience. He has lived and gambled in Las Vegas, Atlantic City and in the Midwest where he has frequented riverboat casinos. He now maintains his primary residence in southern Ohio.

Books by R.D. Ellison:

> More Books By R.D. Ellison

R.D. Ellison
R.D. Ellison is a professional gambler with more than twenty years of successful gaming experience. He has lived and gambled in Las Vegas, Atlantic City and in the Midwest where he has frequented riverboat casinos. He now maintains his primary residence in southern Ohio.

Books by R.D. Ellison:

> More Books By R.D. Ellison