He was tall; he was overweight; he had a ponytail as many men who are losing their hair do. I guess the philosophy is to grow the most hair where you have hair and take away the fact that you have the least hair where you have the least hair. You can control the most hair but the least is problematic.
Maybe he was 50-years old; maybe more, maybe less.
The great dice controller Jerry “Stickman” and I were in Atlantic City for a week. We like to play early in the mornings when a few, a couple or one or no players are at the tables. Mondays and Tuesdays are the best days to get the type of table we like.
This day that man was at the end of the table. There were two other players at the table.
“Mr. Negativity,” said Stickman to me.
“He doesn’t seem happy,” I said. He did indeed have a sour look on his face.
He cashed in for one thousand dollars, not an overwhelmingly large sum yet he proceeded to make green ($25) and black ($100) bets — most of them on Crazy Crapper propositions with exceedingly high house edges.
He went through his money fast enough. In fact, he took out another thousand dollars having run out of money rather quickly.
I was up next to get the dice. I was standing at my normal spot, SL1 (next to the left arm of the stick man) and I put up my Pass Line bet.
“Who’s rolling?” he asked the dealer.
“Frank,” said the dealer. The dealer nodded at me.
I established my point, a 6
“Hard eight for one hundred dollars,” he said.
He glared at me. That was weird. Why would the guy glare at me when he was betting on me?
I took the dice; set them in my 3-V, aimed, swung my right arm slowly and released. The dice hit the wall then settled a few inches away.
“Eight! Eight the hard way!” said the dealer.
“Let it ride,” growled Mr. Negativity. He now had $1,000 on the hard 8. A win would mean a whopping $10,000 in his pocket.
“I took the dice; set them, aimed, swung my arm, released the dice. They flew slowly through the air, bounced on the layout, hit the back wall and died.
“Eight! Another hard way eight!” said the dealer.
“Down on my hard eight,” snickered Mr. Negativity. His upper lip curled somewhat.
The dealer pushed $10,000 in orange chips to him; he scowled at me and walked away.
“Pleasant guy,” said Stickman. “Glad he left. Man is he Mr. Negativity.”
Later that morning, after a delicious and relaxed breakfast, Stickman and I checked out the craps tables. Mr. Negativity was at the end of the table with two “reserved” signs on either side of him. He was betting big money now – probably based on his 10 thousand jackpot of the early morning.
When he saw me he snarled; I swear, he snarled. He threw a few times; hit some of the Crazy Crapper bets he was on, sevened out, took his chips and stormed off the table.
“At what point does Mr. Negativity lose his money?” asked Stickman.
“Late this afternoon,” I laughed.
“I say tomorrow morning he’ll be cashing in for a thousand,” said Stickman. “What a rotten attitude he brings to the table.”
We didn’t see Mr. Negativity the rest of the week. I am guessing this guy is an addicted gambler and one who enjoys the awe other players show him when he bets huge amounts.
Mr. Negativity was a sad and angry man. There was no joy whatsoever in his play.
Frank Scoblete’s new books are “I Am a Dice Controller: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Craps”; “Confessions of a Wayward Catholic” and “I Am a Card Counter: Inside the World of Advantage-Play Blackjack.” All available from Amazon.com, Kindle, Barnes and Noble, and at bookstores. Visit Frank’s web site at www.frankscoblete.com.