Zero Sum Games: Somebody’s
Going to Lose!
With any
transaction, the odds of winning and losing may be close to even. However, when
it comes to casino games, the house advantage is undeniable and somebody is
going to lose. In fact, the house edge guarantees it.
In order to be a
winner, you must select the best strategies for the prevailing conditions. Not
all bets are equal and not all strategies perform all of the time. In the end,
it comes down to several key factors.
-
Identify the prevailing conditions.
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A flexible strategy for prevailing
conditions.
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Awareness of the subtle messages
provided by the energy of the game.
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Avoid losing situations.
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Make the best bets which have the
least exposure to the odds.
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Know when to quit when the “game is
over”.
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Play for Keeps!
A zero sum game, in
simple terms, is a game with only one winner. Craps and blackjack are zero sum
games. Either you win or the casino wins. The catch with casino games is in the
house odds. The odds favor the casino to win. In the long run, this means you
are mathematically guaranteed to be separated from your money.
Beau Parker, The
Dice Coach, Deborah Garcia, Soft Touch, and I, have very different
approaches for the game of craps. What makes us compatible players and teachers
is the underlying philosophy of “Don’t play just to play. Play smart, play to
win, or don’t play”.
We hold dear the
importance of positive attitude, strategic play, money management, bankroll
protection, stop loss, discipline, and without doubt, the importance the energy
of a game holds. The energy makes all the difference in the results. We know to
accept a win as a win and we accept that sometimes we will lose. Emotionally
balanced play is to play in control.
Dice Busters™ is a
blending of several methods of play. Methods that support one another and no one
method is co-dependant upon the other. You will learn controlled play allowing
you to take advantage those times when opportunity presents itself. At Dice
Busters, we teach students to become successful “advantage players”.
Craps is not really
a spectator’s game. Many advocates of dice influencing embrace a belief that
only dice influencers are worthy of a bet and will sit out of the game watching,
while a random roller catches a hand. Well, as the Dice Busters, we are not
about to be left out of the profits, by sitting on the sidelines, in fear of
random rollers. Craps is a game of probability. The dice in anyone’s hand can
and do act out of probability. With Dice Busters™, the guesswork is removed and
you will have the most powerful combination of strategies for the game of craps.
In addition to what
the Dice Busters will be presenting in our June 21st workshop, we
will carefully examine each player’s approach to the game. Everyone has a
preferred method of play. After all, craps is a game enjoyed by the individual.
Winning money from your own action is the excitement that fuels the passion to
play. Dice Busters will fine tune your game so that any leaks are plugged. We
will help you develop a game strategy that is best suited to your needs.
Dice Busters™ is no
ordinary gaming program. It is your opportunity to observe, first hand, various
methods of play, as well as the opportunity to enhance your game. If you feel
that it is time to expand the skills of your game and be on the winning side of
a zero sum game, you may want to just the Dice Busters June 21st.
The next time you
are out playing craps, somebody is going to lose. It does not have to be you!
So…. Who you gonna call?
On
the Coat Tales of a Gambler… Episode 11
June, 1956, it was
my first time to go to Myrtle Beach. I didn’t even know life existed out side of
Badger and Greenville, Alabama. I was fifteen years old and on my way to the
tenth grade.
I had an old, ‘43’
Chevy. I spent the summer dragging main and hanging out on the corner with some
of the older boys. The Joker Drive-in was the only other hang out for kids in
those days. (some of these guys I spent time with, were the ones I later ran
with in the days of Scarpone). The Joker drive-in had parking for about six cars
and six stools inside. The owner’s name was Don. He shaved his head and always
wore a barrette and a white apron down to his ankles. He was a Don Rickles look
alike with a Beatnik look. Don did everything at The Joker. He cooked, took
orders and served the food. He did have Sarah Greenwood as a car hop. Sarah was
a big flirt and a big tease. She kept the guys hanging out which was good for
Don’s business. Don loved us and didn’t mind that we’d hang out all night on a
coke and hamburger. He had the local radio station tuned in and hooked up to one
large out-door type speaker. The music had a kind of tinny sound but no one
noticed to complain. Don was a big fan of the high school football team…
pictures on the wall and all. We were the fighting Wild Cats of Greenville High.
He’d always have the game blaring loudly from that speaker.
During that summer,
I get conned into going to the Mystic Dive-in movies with a trunk load of guys.
I hated sneaking them in, scared that if I got caught, my dad would take my car
away. They guys would pitch in for me and one other buddy so it never cost me
anything as the smuggler. Aside from schlepping my buddies, that ‘43’ served as
my training ground for smooching at the drive-in. Hell, for fifty cents each, I
could take my girl out and never see the dang movie. To bad they did away with
drive-in movies. I think if we still had’em, today’s kids would be a lot better
off.
Having a car at
fifteen was a big deal. Most of my buddies walked. But I had saved up my gas
station money and soda jerk money to buy that Chevy. The guy wanted $250 and I
got him down to $225. I thought I was hot stuff for just a kid.
It was a straight
six, three speeds on the column. The headliner was torn in the back (you can
take a good guess) and it had that funky old car smell. The radio almost worked.
Main thing was it ran. The linkage was rough and often it would stick when
shifting from first to second gear. The first time it happened I was scared that
I had blown the tranny. I drove it in first gear, jerking like a bucking bronco,
all the way to my Uncle Jack’s gas station. He popped the hood, and ordered me
to go get a couple of wrenches. After monkeying around with the linkage and
squirt’n it with oil, I saw the shift lever moving up and down. My uncle called
my pride and joy a “rolling toilet” and told me that I should keeps a set of
tools, jumper cables and a chain in the trunk.
I thought I’d be
smart taking a part-time job as a bag boy at Tiffford’s Market. Dumb me, the
summer before I had worked six nights a week at Potter’s drug store as a soda
jerk. (It turned out to be the best paying job of all my high school jobs
because of the tips) I could have gone back to work there, but, foolishly, I
thought that I was too big a deal for that kind of job…talk about stupid. I made
less than half the money that summer, compared to the summer at the drug store.
The best thing of
all from that summer was I had me a real pretty girlfriend, the great Joyce
McAllister, from Berealla High, in Parker. She was a cashier at Tifford’s, where
I worked. That summer, I burned up the highway going from my home in the south,
to way up north where she lived. That girl filled up three pages of my high
school yearbook with how much she loved me and how great I was. This will make
you laugh: I later, I found out that I was just one of three loves she had going
at the same time.
She was a “Parker
girl”. Parker was a lot small burg, but it was just slightly more affluent than
Greenville. To the folks in Parker, “Greenvillers” were trash. For some reason
that I could never figure out, folks in Greenville kind of accepted this snobby
opinion as fact. In reality, both towns were nice places to work and raise
families. I guess you have that situation just about everywhere. One community
looks down on another, just so they can feel better. Like Espanola is the butt
of all jokes in New Mexico. But, if you want to see low-riders, Espanola is the
world’s capital for them.
Young as we were,
on our way to the tenth grade, we both knew what we were going to do after high
school. Joyce was going to go to college and become an RN… she did too! I ran
into her about ten years later downtown. There she was all dressed in white… the
works… hat, white cape and all. I loved the way nurses used to dress. I recall
wanting to have some excuse to go to the hospital just so Joyce could be my
nurse. I didn’t have the guts to try to re-open our past just in conversation…
never mind being married to Marci and having kids at the time.
As for me, well I
knew that I was going to join the fighting glory of the USMC. Typical of my
ways, I had no plans for anything after that. But Joyce sure did. In my year
book she wrote, “…after I become a nurse and you come home from the Marines,
we’ll get married, we’ll have lots of children and live in a cute little
house…etc., etc., etc.” Ha, ha, youth! I often wonder what she wrote in the
other two guys’ yearbooks. In my heart I’d like to believe she wrote nothing,
but I will never know.
…It is finally
raining here in Taos today. Boy, it has been dry. Fire danger is extreme. They
won’t let you light up a smoke in public… really! You have to be indoors. Guess
I could go to Las Vegas to smoke, nothing there grows so there’s nothing to
burn.
Joyce was so nice,
but she was not the first love of my life. My first girl had already dumped me
before it got to love if you know what I mean… so, in a way, guess I never
really did have that first love. But life was sooooooo good in those days. I
felt like I was on top of the world. Heck, I had a car, some money and a
good-looking girl. That was the summer Joyce and I drove to Myrtle Beach. Of
course ya’ll don’t get to hear that story… only that our alibis did not hold up…
the old ‘43’ Chevy did, thank God. That was among my dumber stunts in life and
yes there was plenty of hot water and Joyce’s insane dad complete with a
shotgun. Lost my car for about three months and that pretty much cooled things
between Joyce and me for awhile… still we managed to fan the ember through our
senior year.
Episode
12…
I saved something
for you. This was sent to me in the Greenville paper. Thomasville is just west
of Greenville and a stone’s throw from Biloxi, if that’s tell’n something.
Thomasville, AL: Eighteen poker players arrested for gambling have asked for a
jury trial in an effort to change Alabama’s 183 year old law that bans games of
cards and dice. Police sized nearly six thousand dollars when they arrested
twenty-two people. Four pleaded guilty and were fined $100 each. Participates
said it was a “friendly” game. Authorities contend it was high stakes gambling
advertised on the Internet.
This is laughable.
I would not call that high stakes in this day and age. Do the math… $6,000
divided between 22 people, come on. Back in the day of Scarpone, I saw poker
pots with a lot more than 6k in them many times over. I say the above game was
just a small stakes friendly game… even if it was on the net… so what? You
decide! The Internet is wonderful, but kind of dumb to advertise a poker game
you’d think.
By the way,
Scarpone’s favorite game was dice. He had loads and flats and knew how to switch
out a die without a hitch. He knew how to set’em good. I read this stuff about
dice setting and controlling this and that and how to bet which numbers. The
real pros of the game are unsung. (and they liked it that way) They were doing
it long before this hyped fad came along and they had the huevos to pull it off.
Scarpone was real good. He was a master at manipulating the dice. He was so
skilled with his setting ability, he usually won even with regular, fair dice.
About the only way
Scarpone would ever get into a poker game was knowing, dead sure, that he had a
real live sucker in the game to set up and shake down. Most of these sucker
games, of course, would be no limit. Scarpone would bet the guy out of all the
money he had and give him a hand, something like four Jacks or four Queens. Of
course the guy would be pissing his pants and wishing he had more dough to bet.
Scarpone was more
than just a slick gambler. He was a salesman with a diamond personality. Like
that cliché goes Scarpone could sell ice to Eskimos. His charismatic personality
got him out of more fixes than his pocket ‘38’ ever could. He liked to say that
he could talk himself out of any disagreement. He’d come away the winner with
the other guy glad for it.
Now, back to this
poker game and four of a kind. Scarpone knows the guy has the hand of a
life-time. He sets him up by dealing him the hand. The guy has all his money in
the pot, of course. Scarpone goes into his act. He pretends to remind the guy it
is no limit and it’s okay to go to his pocket for more dough. They guy is
literally all in and Scarpone knows it. So, Scarpone turns on the charming
Spanish grin, (I understand your dilemma, let me help) and says to the guy, “You
know, you are trusted. You would not have been invited to this game if you were
not trusted. You like your hand so much? How about this?” Scarpone would then go
on to tell the guy he could go get more money, as much as he could lay his hands
on, and come back to bet. The one stipulation was that he did not take too long
doing it. The hands would be sealed in separate envelopes while the sucker ran
out to get his life savings. Scarpone and his “second”, and a friend of the
sucker, would tag along to make it look right. After returning with more money,
the sucker would raise the bet. Scarpone would act like, “Okay, you got me, but
I gotta see your cards,” and would, of course, call the sucker’s raise. You have
to know from the front of this story that no matter what the sucker had drawn
to, Scarpone would amazingly have the winning hand, a bigger four of a kind,
maybe a straight flush.
That would do it
for the mark and Scarpone would go into a charade of surprise that both players
had great hands and how close the game was in the end. After shaking hands and a
drink to commiserate, Scarpone would pat the guy on the back saying, “Tough hand
to lose, here’s a hundred bucks, I don’t want you leaving skinned.”
I witnessed this
play twice in all my time hanging around Scarpone, but he told me that he had
pulled it off a few other times. He said that it was extremely difficult to make
it work on rich suckers. On top of it all, it was not easy to come by the
“marks” in the first place. Recall our fancy trip to Florida. There, the
surroundings of a men’s private country club make the scene okay for rich
“marks” to waddle up to a game. But holding a game in a motel room, or back room
of a bar, gets real iffy for most savvy people with money.
Now, it did work,
on occasion, with egomaniacs with a bit of cash. Take the real good player with
money and a belief that says “I can’t be beat”. Give this kind of ego a hand
with four of a kind and you are counting your eggs a-hatch’n.
Taking a guy’s last
buck this way made me feel sorry for the poor sod. But for Scarpone it was just
business. He noticed my feelings one time, and said, “What? That s.o.b. would
not have taken me just as hard if he could? What the hell do you think he was
trying to do to me?” For Scarpone, it was just like a job well done and getting
paid for doing it. The edge he held was his passion for the game. His love for
being on the winning side was so immersed in his being, it was almost like he
could not lose. I never saw anyone gamble the way Scarpone did and consistently
win. Okay, I concede that his cheating would play a part in it.
I’d like to tell
you that he taught me everything he knew about gambling, but with Scarpone, he
possessed something special that simply could not be taught or learned. You
either have it in you or you don’t. Scarpone had it cold.
Cheating eventually
did get Scarpone into bad trouble. Although his demise is sketchy, I would not
be surprised if that isn’t how he met his end. He did get caught one time and
ended up shooting his way out. He took a slug too. Of course he had to answer to
law. I will have to tell you story later.
To be continued…
Well, that’s it for this edition of the
Playing 4 Keeps™ Newsletter.
See you at the tables,
Michael Vernon
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