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I’ve read that the game of blackjack is dying. What was once a single-deck, double-deck, and 4-deck world is now dominated by 6-and 8-deck games. I’ve heard that surveillance is more sophisticated than ever and that the penetration on cut cards gets worse every year. People say it’s become more difficult to find tables that stand on soft 17 and that it’s not uncommon to see blackjacks paying 6-5 on wins, instead of the standard 3-2, severely disminishing a card counters chance of gaining a significant statistical edge.
Today, many individuals with the mettle and expertise to put their hard-earned money at risk would rather take their shot at poker, another game I love. It seems like every year poker pros are getting younger and wealthier. While both games require an advanced use of the mind, only poker is openly rewarded. Active blackjack professionals aren’t honored on magazine covers or prime-time television. They belong to a small, exclusive, and highly secretive club, where the goal is identity protection.
The Blackjack Hall of Fame, located within the Barona Casino in San Diego, California, provides its Hall of Famer with a lifetime room, food, and beverage comp, so long as the player agrees to never wager at Barona’s tables. In 2002, the inaugural year of the organization, 21 players were nominated for induction, with seven receiving the nod. Each year, a new member is inducted at the annual Blackjack Ball, a secret event disclosed to a private and elite group of blackjack contributors. To date, fewer than two dozen players, experts, and authors have been inducted, many of whom have been referenced in this book.
By contrast, the Poker Hall of Fame has more than double the number of inductees, including many players still active today. For most, blackjack is a recreation, not a profession. Admittedly, if I had to do it all over again—logging the hours, pushing myself to the limit, and becoming a student of the game—I might be inclined to put all of that energy into poker. It’s probably more lucrative, though the competition continues to get more difficult. At least a successful poker player can go to work without worrying about being asked to leave the casino. A chip and a chair are all one needs to be alive in a poker game.
There’s something I love about the game of blackjack. Like poker, it offers special challenges that parallel life: decision making, reading the situation, ups and downs, and a tremendous opportunity to push one’s mental limits. However, in my opinion, taking a big pot off another poker player at the table pales in comparison to stomping a casino fairly and squarely at its own game.
Over the years I’ve been playing blackjack with Nathaniel, I’ve shared our story with my own family and friends. On nearly every occasion, I needed to clarify the legality of counting cards, but the reality of the law is often no match for society’s perceptions of it. In the court of public opinion, casinos have already declared their own verdict.
Meanwhile, casinos continue to bilk unskilled players out of every penny they can. They open their doors, lay out their rules, then ask us to wager—so long as we don’t use our minds. Since my very first tap on the shoulder at Foxwoods, the mission took on new meaning. The us-versus-them endeavor can take hold in a deep and profound way.
For me, it all started with a casual interest in the game and a chance meeting. Ultimately, it became a way of life and helped to forge a friendship. After I graduated college, it wasn’t long before I realized how deeply I missed the competitive nature of organized sports. From the time I was three, through my undergraduate football days, athletics had always given me an outlet to challenge myself. I never really thought that competition would once again play such a significant role in my life.
When I first met Nathaniel at Semyon’s seminar, I barely knew basic strategy, and I certainly couldn’t count cards. I enjoyed reading books, particularly if they were about gambling. My presence at that seminar was for the opportunity to meet Semyon Dukach. Learning advanced card counting strategies was an afterthought. What I got out of that one day was more than I could have imagined.
At the seminar, I was seated next to Nathaniel at the blackjack table. The group of strangers huddled together, making for a fairly uncomfortable setting. Even still, Nathaniel’s charisma stood out quickly. In between instructional sessions, we had a chance to talk. I realized that we had a lot in common. Soon afterward, I found myself attending regular practices at his home. Others attendees who had agreed to practice with us eventually dropped out. Either they had scheduling conflicts or they hit plateaus in learning the game, causing them to give up. So the two of us did it by ourselves, starting from the ground up, learning everything we could about blackjack and pushing ourselves to new heights. Eventually we came to understand that winning at blackjack didn’t require an MIT education or membership in Mensa. We also knew that learning to count cards wouldn’t be easy, so we committed to learning the science of the game.
The idea of crushing the blackjack tables in Vegas was a nice thought, but it wasn’t the first thing on our radar. For us, learning to count cards was more appealing for the mental challenge it offered, not the prospects of a glamorous high-roller life. In retrospect, it was all a little nerdy. We were discussing mathematics and statistics. It wasn’t about the lure of the underground world of advantage play. We were students of the game and we wanted to become as close to perfect as we could. That’s all it was.
We read many stories about would-be blackjack professionals jumping too quickly into live action without the proper skill set, only to watch their bankrolls evaporate. We weren’t about to let that happen. We waited more than six months before ever applying our strategies in live casino situations. Even then, we started small and worked our way up. It’s like the saying goes, “Do what you love and the money will follow.” We loved the game; we loved the challenge; and eventually, the money did follow.
Our goal from the beginning was to develop world-class abilities and I am certain that we have. But I also know that, personally, I couldn’t have accomplished that if it wasn’t for Nathaniel. He constantly challenged me to improve and he asked me to do the same for him. He was tireless in his preparation. He committed wholeheartedly and I had no choice but to do the same. That’s why our business worked. Individually, we were strong, but together, our collective force was even stronger. That allowed us to test the boundaries of the many blackjack strategies that had been used before us.
In many ways, blackjack replaced competitive team sports in my life, except being the best in blackjack meant that no one else would have any idea of my successes. The accolades are personal and winning is measured in dollars, not trophies or press clippings. Serious blackjack is not for everyone. Many other ways exist to make a living and most people would be better off finding them. But if you are driven by the idea of perfecting your craft, the rewards are immense and extend far beyond the felt. That’s why I’m thrilled that Nathaniel chose to write The Blackjack Life. He does an incredible job recapping the journey we took and the impact that something as trivial as as a casino game can have on one’s life. It no longer comes as a surprise to me that we all can find inspiration in the most unusual of places.
Of course, Nathaniel also does an excellent job of out-lining the complexities of the system we perfected. It’s a system that can be applied by aspiring blackjack players everywhere, either as their own personal playbook, or as an inspiration to develop their own system.
Believe me, the game of blackjack is alive and well, and the opportunities to exploit the game’s weaknesses are plentiful.