Interesting story about gambling below. All I can say is, after watching the craps table in Atlantic City for an hour or so, the winning feels good, but the losing feels worse in comparison.



Around eight, I walked back to the table and started up the old rhythm. On the third or fourth time around, I looked down at my hole cards and saw the king and ten of spades. The stripper had bet $50 into the pot and everyone else had folded. Up on the TV screen, I watched as one of my ponies trotted across the finish line in last place. No matter. I called the $50. The first three community cards brought the ten of clubs, the ten of hearts, and the six of clubs, giving me three tens. She was first to act and raised double the size of the pot. With her giant chip stack and aggressive style of play, I knew it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she would make a large raise with two suited cards—maybe the five and six of clubs or the jack and ten of clubs. Just an hour and a half before, I had seen her push someone all in with a similar draw. When he had disgustedly folded his pair of kings, she flipped over a four and six of clubs. At this point, there were only two possible hands that could beat mine—an ace and a ten, or two sixes. Being a loose, aggressive player, I knew if she had either of those hands, she would have disguised the strength of her hand by checking the flop. The only logical hand I could put her on was a flush draw.

A strong bet will usually force a precise, book-learned player to lay down his flush draw. But when the opponent has a lot of money and has shown a penchant for erratic, wild play, it's advisable to bet an almost unreasonable amount of money. If she feels a rush and calls, then you are on the good side of the odds. If she folds, then you take down what's already in the pot. So, when the stripper added her $100 bet into a $100 pot, I tossed five $100 chips into the center of the table. She frowned, thought for a good minute, and called. Fourth street brought a king of clubs—the perfect card. If my instincts were correct, the flush she had just made was crushed by my full house. To confirm my suspicion, she checked the bet, the exact move someone would do if they hit their flush and wanted to disguise the fact. I knew that if I bet now, she would put in a huge raise. I bet $800. She raised the bet to $2,000. I made a show of frowning and putzing around and methodically counted out my remaining $6,000. Then, with an affected flourish, I pushed the rest of my chips into the middle of the table. The stripper lowered her glasses to the tip of her nose and stared at me with sympathetic eyes. She muttered, "Baby, it's a bad time to hit the second best full house…" and pushed the rest of her money into the middle. The table gasped in delight. She flipped over her two kings. My tens full of kings were beat by her kings full of tens. I have no idea what the last card was, just that it wasn't the case ten, the only card in the deck that would've won me the hand. The fantastic stripper apologized and apologized again as she stacked up my $9,000. I couldn't face her sincerity, so I got up from the table and wandered off to the sports book, where I dropped myself down on a club chair and wondered aloud what exactly had happened. I remember thinking about the narrator of my now-dead novel and I pictured him walking sick and earnest through the streets near Seattle's Pike Street Market, one of the 10,000 places in America where neon is the saddest color.

It occurred to me that I was trying to have a literary moment. Something demanded that I learn something. I sat there for about an hour, watching all the horses of Texas and Washington race around on the plasma screens. At some point, I called a friend from the Commerce to tell him about the hand. He whistled and reminded me that in the movie Rounders, Matt Damon had gone broke in almost the exact same way. The thought made me feel better. I took my betting tickets out of my pockets and checked the results board. Only one of my long shots had come in, paying out $300. I thought, "Why bother?" and laughed a little. I ordered a drink. The ninth race at Emerald Downs was about to post. I looked down and saw that I had put down a $60 9/2/5 Box Exacta on the race. I remembered the ninth horse was named Randini. Randini, bless his heart, was going to post as a decent underdog. The no. 2 and the no. 5 horses were long shots. I had no idea what the payout might be.

We all know the end to this story. Randini ran out to a strong lead and never faded. At the final turn, the 2 and the 5 horses streaked past fading no. 4 to claim the place and show. The cashier didn't even flinch as she counted out $14,000 and only offered up a polite nod when I handed over a $100 tip.