Meant to be Famous

6 July 2021

By Frank Scoblete

I was meant to be famous. I knew this from the time I could speak and understand what others spoke. My father told me so. In fact, he seemed to demand it. “Frankie, you will be famous one day. I’ll bet on that.”

Of course, this fame would be in athletics, baseball specifically. My father told me from childhood that I would be the next Joe DiMaggio, who was the famous Yankee Clipper. From the time I could toddle, I had a bat in my hands.

That fame didn’t pan out. I’m guessing my father was disappointed. He probably lost that bet if it said the fame had to come from baseball. I was a good baseball player and I played on some fabulous teams in New York City, but as I moved up the ranks I began to see that my skills couldn’t match the fellows who would go a long way in the sport. I even had a tryout with a major league team and there I saw players who were far superior to me.

I’ll be honest here; I wasn’t despondent about this. You have to be realistic about your talents and skills. I did try boxing too. I thought I would be the white Muhammad Ali – how could I think that? There will never be another Muhammad Ali or Joe DiMaggio either.

In fifth grade I even practiced the autograph I would use when people asked me to sign my name. It looked good too. But as the years went on and my autograph signing became real, the “Frank” of my name started to look like “F**k” so my autograph basically cursed me out until I changed it to F. Scoblete.

And here I am now. I am grateful for my writing career in books, television, magazines, newspapers and in my classes and festivals on casino gambling. I am happy writing for this magazine too – been doing that since it first started. I am happy about my non-casino writing as well; my plays and non-fiction books. And, yes, I do have a touch of fame. People recognize me at times, especially in casinos or on airplanes. And I love giving autographs!

It’s almost perfectly pleasant being famous. Almost.

Not everyone is as awed by me as I seem to be with myself as shown in the opening to this column. My dad didn’t actually realize what the price of fame could really be. It can be somewhat embarrassing.

I had just played at four casinos on my early morning jaunt in Atlantic City. The fifth one was coming up; the truly spectacular Ocean Hotel and Casino.

I give myself three turns with the dice at each casino, unless I am really hot and then I will go turn-by-turn until I cool off and then head to the next casino. If I am too cool on the next stop, I stop playing and maybe I’ll play later that day or maybe I won’t play at all. I am never in a rush to play.

At Ocean casino two “don’t” (darkside) players were at the table, one next to me on my left, when I took the dice. I established my point and then sevened-out immediately.

“I know who you are,” said the Darksider. “Thanks for making us money.”

“You’re the guy that the Waterbug writes about, right?” asked the second player. The Waterbug writes about craps on the Internet. His methods of how to play craps – poor ways by the way; ones that will cost you a lot of money over even a little bit of time – are based on feelings and trends and everything that has nothing to do with the reality of a game.

The darkside players didn’t shoot the dice. The two other players at the table did and they sevened out quickly, just as I had. I was up again.

“Ha! Ha!” the darksider next to me chortled. “I’m increasing my bet. This table is great for me. You set the tone buddy-boy.”

“Okay, mister big shot,” said the other darksider. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I was an idiot right there and then. I should have called it quits. Those guys irritated me and an irritated controlled shooter is not a good shooter. But I didn’t listen to my inner voice telling me to take my break now. Screw those guys.

Instead I took the dice and rolled a two – a winner for the darksiders. They clapped a little. I then rolled another two; they clapped some more. I then rolled a four and I saw they both put odds on their bets. Come on, I said to myself, knock these creeps out with a four. I saw that they placed a few don’t bets.

“Come on, big shot,” said the other darksider once again.

You creep, I thought, I am going to roll that four.

In certain moments fame is fleeting and it was then. “Seven!” yelled the stickman. “Take the line, pay the don’ts.”

“Color up,” I said and put my chips on the layout. I had lost money and I had lost face because I didn’t listen to my inner voice.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” asked the darksider next to me. “Running scared?”

“You are making us a fortune; stay please,” said the other darksider.

I took my chips and looked at my two tormentors. I paused. Then said: “Would you guys like an autograph?”

Frank’s web site is www.frankscoblete.com. Frank’s books can be bought at Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, on kindle and e-books, and at bookstores.