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John "Skinny" destroys Atlantic City5 December 2012
The Dominator and I were there. We saw it and applauded it.
I had been invited to bring my craps team the Five Horsemen to AC to shoot a television show for a Netherlands station. It would be a two-day shoot. Only three of the Horsemen could make it.
The show’s host, Beau, a tall, slim blond, who also emcees the Netherlands’ version of “Netherlands Got Talent” and “X-Factor” shows, had just finished running the New York City marathon. He also once swam the English Channel. He certainly looked like an athlete. I liked the guy.
Dominator liked Beau too as they had something in common – they were both heavy smokers!
The worst way to start a four-day trip (or any trip) is to dig a deep hole and then have to spend most of your remaining time shoveling out. Not so this trip. The very first time Skinny got the dice he rolled a 41 before he sevened out. We weren’t in a hole; we were starting our climb up the money mountain. His next two rolls were both in the mid-twenties.
We each took the dice six times that first day over two different sessions. Skinny went six for six.
Now, while I had a decent four-day run of repeating numbers, only twice did I have rolls that went over 20. I remember one stretch where I hit four sixes and three eights in 10 rolls before sevening out with one critic at the end of the table pronouncing, “That guy sucks!” Evidently he wasn’t on the six or eight.
Dom had some problems during this trip, a growing head-clogging, snot-producing, cough-engendering head and chest cold and a seriously burned index finger on his throwing hand. It’s hard to throw when your index finger looks as if it has grown its own index finger. Dom did bust out on Wednesday night for a monster (the dealers told us about it) but neither I nor Skinny was there since it was past our bedtime.
Pai Gow poker was unkind to Dom.
“I just can’t win at this damn game!” he exclaimed. “Is it fixed against me?”
You see, Dom has been on a three-year losing streak at Pai Gow poker. When I say three years, I mean three years without (WITHOUT) a single winning session. That could be an all-time record.
While getting his buttocks handed to him over these four days of Pai Gow, he did have one itsy-bitsy winning session. So he broke his losing streak. Skinny did not have much luck at Pai Gow either. I won a little because when I banked I managed to get good enough hands to beat the dealer and any other players betting against me.
Skinny repeated his Monday dice throwing on Tuesday with another 40+ roll, two 30s and three teens – all handsome winners for the three of us. (Note how few times we take the dice in a given day.)
Skinny then repeated his Monday and Tuesday on Wednesday during the morning and afternoon sessions (six straight winning turns with the dice) but, not truly being a god (as Dom and I were beginning to think of him), he sucked on Wednesday evening. So did I. So did Dom. We did a series of point sevens and after three turns with the dice we called it a night. Not so Dom, who decided to continue. That’s when he had his monster.
During our point-sevening out session one player came up to me and announced to the entire planet in a voice so loud I thought it would crack the arctic ice cap, “Hey, Frank, you are so fat! Man, Frank, you are so fat!” I chuckled and pretended this didn’t bother me, “Ha! Ha! Thanks for telling me.” You creep!
While Wednesday evening’s session did not help my bankroll, I was still way ahead for the trip and almost at the point where I knew that I would be taking home some good money. Well, so much for such knowledge. I lost a lot at Pai Gow that morning. And later that morning I lost even more than “a lot.” Now the rest of this day would determine if I would bring home the laurels and how much those laurels might be if I brought them home.
We didn’t get to the craps tables on Thursday morning because our spots were taken.
We had one session left to play Thursday evening. And that is when lightning struck. We had three other players at the table that took care with their rolls after setting the dice in either the hardway set or the 3-V. One of them came over to me after he had a damn good roll and said, “Frank, I’ve read your books and I have to say you have helped me so much. Thanks!” He made me feel a lot better than the guy who announced to the four corners of the Earth that I was fat.
Skinny, Dom and I had winning rolls on our first two turns with the dice; as did the other three shooters. What a great session this was. Then it was Skinny’s turn. At this point I was guaranteed a nice big win to bring home no matter what Skinny did.
AND THEN HE DID IT.
He rolled and rolled and rolled. Black chips spread out on the table. Then purple chips spread out on the table. Then orange chips appeared on the table. Skinny rarely rolled a bad number. He had a minimum of 15 sixes and 11 or 12 eights. The man was on fire.
When he sevened out, the table exploded with applause. I leaned over to him and said, “Sixty-three, sixty-three.”
“Great rolling, sir,” said the dealer on our side of the table.
“Great rolling,” said the stickman.
“I’m just glad that’s not my money you won,” laughed the floor person.
We quit right then, colored up, and had a delicious dinner where we toasted our great week and Skinny’s demolition of Atlantic City.
It is wonderful to see someone put on such a show. For those four days, Skinny was the man of all men and Dom and I saluted him.
Now we await the Netherlands show.
This article is provided by the Frank Scoblete Network. Melissa A. Kaplan is the network's managing editor. If you would like to use this article on your website, please contact Casino City Press, the exclusive web syndication outlet for the Frank Scoblete Network. To contact Frank, please e-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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