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“Saying that you can count cards and actually being able to do it are usually two different things.”
Bill Zender, Card Counting for the Casino Executive
Practice sessions started to branch out to different locations. D.A.’s home in Brighton was a stone’s throw away. Sometimes when neither of us felt like hosting, we ventured to Domenic’s place in Framingham, a good half-hour outside the city. D.A. and I continued to progress, while Domenic still struggled along with basic strategy. As such, we used him more as a dealer than as a training partner. We endured the occasional bouts of frustration of working with him in exchange for having a third body to play alongside, for having someone else to deal, or for practicing with the added distraction of his scattered mindset. The need to concentrate was greater when Domenic was there. While he didn’t recognize the true value we saw in him, deep down he knew that he hitched his horse to the wrong carriage. It was apparent that we were headed toward greater things with the game and there was little stopping us. He coupled his personal frustrations with an outward appreciation for how quickly the two of us were evolving.
The next practice was a big one for us: counting check-outs. First, we pulled out two cards from a deck. Then we flipped through that deck as quickly as possible, keeping an accurate count. At the end, before the two cards were revealed, the counter had to indicate what remained. A final count of +2 would indicate that two high cards remained, -2 meant two low cards, +1 was a high and a neutral, -1 was a low and a neutral, and 0 was either two neutrals or a high and a low. The count doesn’t identify the exact make-up of the unseen cards, but that level of preciseness isn’t necessary. If you keep the count accurately, you’ll have the information you need to get an edge, and the requirement to successfully pass the checkout was to maintain the correct count for three consecutive decks, each in less than 30 seconds.
My hands trembled. I was up first. I’d known these guys for months now and there wasn’t any reason to be embarrassed if I failed. I’d just keep trying. It wasn’t as though we all hadn’t made many mistakes in the several previous practices. It was our commitment to perfection that drove me to get better and I owed it to myself. I knew I could do it. I’d practiced it a hundred times that week by myself. But this was different. An official checkout meant pressure and that was the point. I quickly flipped the first card and then the second. The third card slipped and I lost control of the deck but managed to regain a steady hold. I flipped furiously. One after another. Done!
“What’s the count?”
“Two. It’s plus two. You have two high cards,” I said to D.A., who had a sly smirk on his face that became a staple in any wait-and-see reveal he would offer.
“Aw, sorry man. That sucks. My turn,” he said.
“Let me see the cards!” I smiled back, confident in my results.
Domenic, peering over D.A.’s shoulder couldn’t contain himself.
“Nicely done! Twenty-one seconds. Not bad for a fuckin’ amateur,” he teased.
We all passed the checkout, with D.A. matching my time and Domenic sneaking in at 30 seconds even. It was cause for minor celebration and a few short-lived high fives, but a second checkout was also involved. This time it required counting down two shuffled decks in one minute or less.
By that point, I was in a zone, confident and proud of what I had accomplished. It seemed silly, really. Pride in counting down a measly deck of cards. It would’ve been difficult to explain to anyone outside of that room, but the three of us understood. I finished the 2-deck drill in 39 seconds and D.A. finished in 42. Domenic finished in time, but he was slightly off in the running count. It was getting late.
“Same time next week, boys?” Domenic asked.