When I started my Card Counting career, Read the rest of this entry »
The Wonderful Wizard of Odds
April 28th, 2011
We met the Wizard of Odds, Mike Shackleford, at the Blackjack Ball Read the rest of this entry »
“Who here can tell me how to win this game?” I asked as I bellied up to a crowded blackjack table. Read the rest of this entry »
Getting Respect as a Card Counter!
February 4th, 2011
I got this email a while back, and it made me smile: Read the rest of this entry »
How to Pass a DUI Test in Vegas…
September 21st, 2010
This doesn’t have too much to do with card counting, but hey, it’s still a story worth telling. Read the rest of this entry »
Las Vegas Trip Report!
September 10th, 2010
I was able to make it back to Sin City for the first time since our last Bootcamp, and I thought I’d give a brief report of the highlights of the trip. Read the rest of this entry »
Bootcamp Testimonials
July 17th, 2009In case you want to hear what people who have been trained in a bootcamp have to say. Sign up for the bootcamp here.
Another Satisfied Member
May 11th, 2009
Someone on the BJA forum posted this last week, and I thought it was such an awesome testimonial, I asked if I could post it here on the blog. To protect his anonymity, I’ve removed any of the parts that talked about where exactly he plays. But the rest is completely unedited.This is a fantastic site for the serious blackjack player.
At the moment, I’m up about 7K this year, card counting, using deviations and mainly playing positive decks. These are all strategies that I have learned from this site. In addition, I try to use a stop loss when I play, per table.I consider myself risk adverse (at least at this point), which means I’m trying to limit my down shoes and ride my profits. I believe that Colin said somewhere on the site that his best advice was not to play a negative shoe. In my opinion, that is why I’m up this year. I have no problem moving from table to table to find a positive shoe or to just stop playing and watch the dealer wipe out the table.Needless to say, after playing every weekend this year, I’m noticed by a lot of the pit bosses and dealers. But I receive no heat. In fact, many go out of their way to say hi. I’m guessing it’s because I’m not making huge up bets. I also receive comped rooms (on weekends) and a lot of comped food, which isn’t calculated in my profits.
I attribute all my success to this site and am looking forward to eventually mastering the betting strategy, which will take my game to the next level.
Good luck to everyone!
XXXXX
Join the ranks of the money-making card counters!
The Big Player and playing the part: Story Time!
August 20th, 2008
Let me tell you about the first time I was the Big Player.
I was pretty excited to be the one throwing down thousands of dollars. So before going in to the casino, I started thinking, ” What’s my story going to be?”
So, before entering the casino, I decided to borrow the story of a friend of mine: guitar player in a rock band. A long time friend had recently gotten his band, The Taking*, signed to a major record label deal, and got a large signing bonus in the process. So, young white kids probably all look the same to Casino Pit Bosses, I assumed I could say that I was guitar player for The Taking, and just got a six-figure signing bonus from the record label. Then, if they looked it up online, they’d see that it was a legitimate band, and it would explain why I was throwing around money like it was no object.
We enter the casino, and the Big Player act is working perfectly. I’m actually playing next to professional athletes, betting much more than they are, and everyone loves me! I’m up a ton and things couldn’t be better. After several hours, a Pit Boss says to me, “So, you’re in a band, huh?” Even though I couldn’t remember telling my story to anyone yet, I decide to go with it. I say, “Yeah. I play guitar.” I’m just about to go into my story about how “The Taking” just got signed, blah, blah, blah when the Pit Boss replies, “Rocketeer*, right?” My mouth drops and I start to panic, because Rocketeer actually WAS a band that I played guitar and sang for a couple years before. Not a famous band that makes tons of money, but a poor, obscure, short lived band with no website, a 20 person fanbase, and no Major Record deal. Oh no! My cover’s blown. They’ve even figured out the band I used to play in! This is bad.
I had no option but to go with it. So, mustering up false confidence, I say, “Oh yeah. You’ve heard of us?”
A couple hours later, we decide to call it a night. We meet up in the hotel, and Ben says, “So, did you like that story I told the pit boss about you?” It turns out that Ben was playing at a table, spotting for me, and he said to the pit boss, “I recognize that guy. I think he’s the lead singer of Rocketeer!” Since Ben knew about the band I used to be in, he thought it’d be funny if word got back to me that I was famous from the short lived band. The moral of the story is, if you work out an ingenious story as Big Player, make sure the spotters know your story too, so they don’t contradict yours at the tables. Or if your spotters are as witty and mischievous as Ben, be prepared to think on your toes.
*Note: Band names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.
Story Time: Trouble with the DEA
May 11th, 2008
Here is a story from a friend and fellow card counter about getting detained by the DEA. I though you would all enjoy it.
I got detained today by TSA (airport security), the Detroit police, the DEA, and the FBI. How’s that for a day of fun?
It all started out at the Detroit airport at 6:15 am. By the time I got to the front of the security line, it was 6:45, and my flight would leave in 30 minutes. I only had 2 envelopes of cash, and I had stuffed them into the front right pocket of my new jeans. As I neared the front of the line, I noticed that one of the TSA supervisors (think T2 bad guy, Robert Patrick) was eyeing me down and whispering something to one of the screeners. I reached the metal detector and proceeded with no problems as normal. But this time when I stepped through, instead of letting me pass, the screener told me to step aside.
They gave me the full cavity search, and then began to question me.
Okay maybe not full “cavity” but there was definitely some heavy petting that.
Questions:
TSA: Why are you here?
Me: I was in town for my wife’s high school reunion.
TSA: Where’s your wife then?
Me: She’s still sleeping. I had to fly back early to work.
TSA: hmmm…what do you do for a living?
Me: I’m a video editor/filmmaker,…oh yeah, and I play professional blackjack on the side.
TSA: Looks like you did pretty well.
Me: Actually, I lost a lot.
TSA: But you’ve got 2 envelopes stuffed with cash.
Me: Yeah, I lost 5 of those.
TSA: 5 THOUSAND DOLLARS!!
Me: Uh, not really, but sure, something like that.
TSA: So, why is your ticket wet?
Me: I left it by the open window and it rained.
TSA: hmmmm… (acting like he doesn’t believe me)
The TSA supervisor has now called the Detroit police, and they are on their way. My mouth has dried up. I’ve never experienced cotton-mouth, but this must be what it is.
10 minutes later, the police officer arrives and precedes to ask me the exact same questions:
Police Officer: Why are you here?
Me: I was in town for my wife’s high school reunion.
TSA: Where’s your wife then?
Etc,etc,…
The officer continues his questioning as the time of my flight gets closer and closer. He starts getting deeper and deeper into the details of blackjack. Somehow, it has now become my responsibility to give him a crash course on Blackjack 101.
Finally, after 30 minutes and repeatedly telling the bastards I was going to miss my flight, I ask, “Can I just put my shoes on and go?” The Police officer acts like he wasn’t holding me up anyways, and agrees to let me go.
I sprint down the jet-way to the gate.
Stewardess: The plane just left, sorry.
I Nap for 3 hours on the hard benches.
I wake up to find the TSA supervisor who initially noticed the bulge in my jeans pockets standing at the airline counter. I walk over to him.
TSA: Oh hey there. I felt really bad about you missing your flight, so I came down to check on you.
Me: [silence] – I thought about saying a few things here, but held it in.
Stewardess: It’s not looking good on your stand-by flights, but we’re pulling for you.
Me: Oh, thank you so much.
I get on a plane an hour later. It’s not a direct flight, and they can’t get me a flight into my original destination, Burbank. I’m re-directed to LAX instead while my baggage sits on the carousel in Burbank, having arrived 4 hours earlier.
I sleep the whole way, and when I exit the plane, I look for the nearest bathroom. As I walk towards it, I hear someone say my name. I turn. There is a man in a Kansas City Chiefs jersey walking towards me quickly and pulling something out of his shirt.
It’s a police badge, DEA to be specific. The Drug Enforcement Agency. There are several DEA officers, and several FBI agents. They think I have drug money.
Me: Is this about that whole Detroit thing?
DEA officer: Yep, that’s it.
Me: Can I go to the bathroom first?
DEA officer: Sure, but I have to go with you. You don’t have to take a crap do you?
Me: Yeah, it’ll take about 30 minutes,…[pause]
The officer laughs awkwardly.
We exit the airport, and walk across the street.
DEA: so, what do you do for your main job?
Me: I’m a filmmaker.
DEA: What kind of stuff have you made?
Me: Documentaries, TV shows, stuff like that.
DEA: Any in particular? Then he goes on to recite some of my past work?
(At this point it becomes clear that the officer has Googled me. Evidently he’s found some clips of stuff I did for my local TV show a few years back.)
He proceeds to recite the plot of my short film. Obviously, he watched it and enjoyed it.
Me: You’ve done your research.
DEA: Yeah, what did you expect? You’re all over the internet.
The officer unlocks a metal gate. He leads me up a ramp and unlocks a door. It’s dark inside.
DEA: See, nobody’s here. They called us in from home just for you.
He leads me into a room with a desk and 2 chairs. It’s just like in the movies. It’s a plain white room with fluorescent lights and nothing on the walls. He offers me a glass of water. I decline.
DEA: Have you seen Jackie Brown?
Me: Yeah, but it’s been a long time.
DEA: Do you remember the opening sequence? That’s what we do. We seize about $10 million in drug money from the LAX airport every year.
Me: Really?
DEA: You need to go rent the movie again. You’ll like it.
Me: I will now!
DEA: We can actually just take your money, and you have to show up in court to prove that it’s legit. I’d rather let you prove it now though, and not bother.
Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.
DEA: These guys here are with the Bureau. (He points to the 2 large men that are squeezed into the small white room with us.).
DEA: I’m just waiting on my big case so I can get my FBI badge. It could be today. Are you it?
Me: I hope not.
I proceed to explain my Blackjack involvement to them. They are intrigued to say the least. They ask if they can call Greektown to verify my play there.
Me: I don’t want you to say anything about me playing professionally or being on a team or anything.
DEA: We won’t say anything. Those fuckers have ripped me off one to many times. I’m all for you taking all the money you can get from them.
They called Greektown to verify that I had played there. Then we called Bank of America and verified that I have made large transactions in the past. I guess drug dealers don’t use banks.
I’m feeling more comfortable now, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be released soon. The officer begins to give me more details of what goes on at the LAX airport.
DEA: Yeah, you can buy 20k in drugs here, bring it back to Detroit, and sell it for $80k.
Me: Wow
DEA: It’s kind of like gambling.
Me: A little higher risk though, don’t you think?…and not quite on the up-and-up.
DEA: Yeah, but still similar.
Me: Hmmm…
DEA: Well, I’m satisfied, how about you guys? (to FBI agents)
FBI: We’re good too…My son is the manager of a casino in Vancouver. What was your name again? (he picks up my id and looks at it)
Me: Which casino is he at?
FBI: [Silence]
The DEA agent goes into the next room to get me his business card, and the FBI start asking me gambling questions.
FBI: So, is it better to play a single deck game?
Me: Unless it pays 6:5 on a blackjack.
FBI: Oh, maybe that’s why I never win. I don’t ever pay attention to what kind of game I’m playing.
FBI: So, can we be in your next movie?
Me: Yeah, let’s shoot it! It sounds like you guys have some pretty crazy stuff going on here.
The DEA agent returns and hands me his card.
DEA: Now don’t try to use this to get yourself out trouble. Don’t get pulled over and tell the cop you’re my cousin or something.
Me: haha… don’t worry, I won’t.
DEA: Seriously, I don’t want to get some call from a cop saying he’s got some kids pulled over with a bong in their car that say they know me.
Me: laughing again,…Don’t worry.
DEA: NO, SERIOUSLY.
DEA: So,… you’re free to go. At least now you can say that we don’t just arrest Black people. [laughs]
- Ryan
