A middle-aged lawyer and a woman meet, fall in love, and decide to get married. On their wedding night they settle into the bridal suite at Mandalay Bay and the bride says to her new groom, "Please promise to be gentle... I am still a virgin."
The startled groom asks, "How can that be? You've been married three times before." The bride responds, “Well you see it was this way: My first husband was a psychiatrist and all he ever wanted to do was talk about it. My second husband was a gynecologist and all he ever wanted to do was look at it. And my third husband was a stamp collector and all he ever wanted to do was... ooohhh, God I miss him! But you're a lawyer, so now I KNOW I'm really gonna get screwed!"
About ten (10) years ago when I started Precision-Shooting, I reasoned that the longer the table was, the more difficult it was to be precise with rolling the dice. My subsequent experience proved that out, and I subsequently shied away from the L-O-N-G tables as much as possible.
If you’ve read my Master of ALL…Well…Slave to SOME! article, you know what I am talking about. I’ve also talked about it in a number of other pieces like, Walking with a Vegas Ghost - Part IV. Suffice it to say that my earnings from those dreaded land-barge-sized tables was in most cases, LESS than poor!
I’ve spent the last couple of weeks in the Nevada, Utah and Arizona desert. I wanted time to reflect upon a number of things surrounding the events of 9-11-01. I won’t use this website as a pulpit upon which to preach, other than about craps.
I was pleased to be alone with my thoughts. More as a diversion, than anything else, I occasionally picked up the dice and used the back of my AM General Hummer as my personal desert casino. I also had a chance to give a little bit of thought about my conventional thinking regarding the avoidance of those lengthy tables.
I knew that the long-tables contributed to the randomness of my dice-roll, especially due to the particular style of my grip and shooting-style. So I opened the rear-most doors of the Hummer, and used it as a makeshift craps table. I used the side-table of my BBQ as my setting surface.
My first attempts from a greater-than-normal distance produced no discernable pattern. Over a three-day period, no real improvements were noted. At that point, I was pretty sure that my long-held belief was once again being proven and re-justified.
Using my conventional set of dice-sets, grips and tosses to achieve a higher-level of rolls from greater distances had COMPLETELY eluded me again.
I’ll cut this short and just say that, over a couple of days, from curiosity more than frustration, I decided to change my grip for the longer-range that I was shooting from.
Instead of using my normal two-finger pincer grip (click here to go to grips) and overhand release, I changed to a grip where my outer fingers “drape” and lightly grip the side-axis of the dice, while my two inner fingers were used as a rolling “ramp” for the dice. My thumb lightly stabilized the side of my index finger. I changed my toss to an underhand, open-palmed toss and release.
Here’s a more detailed description:
Set the dice side-by-side on the table as you normally would.
Put your two middle fingers on the "forward-edge of the dice.
At the same time, let your two outer fingers (your index and pinky finger) gently grip the side-axis of the dice.
Use your thumb the VERY gently support the first (lowest) joint of your index finger.
Lift up the dice in this grip. Now turn your hand over, so the palm is facing UP.
In a soft under-handed motion, GENTLY toss the dice to a spot as close to the back-wall as possible. The objective is to have the dice gently roll into the wall and have a MINIMAL one to three on-axis rolls on the roll-back.
I was surprised by the consistency that it initially showed. I went from a random-number expectation of 1 “seven” every 6 rolls, to a SSR of 8 to 1. That quickly grew to 12 to 1 before a 7 consistently showed up. I mentally counted the number of rolls, as well as the specific numbers that were being rolled. After every 7-Out hand, I would pause to write down each number that the roll had produced.
I was pleased with the results, but I still had no appetite for playing. In fact, I hardly felt like spending any time with people, so I continued to reflect on life, and I used the practice sessions as a mild distraction.
Six days of following the same routine produced some interesting consistency from distances that equaled those of some of the most challenging tables that I have run into. I thought this new grip and release had enough potential to try out in the real world.
I’ve got to admit that I did not have a thirst that needed to be quenched by stepping back into a casino after almost two weeks of mourning. In fact, I felt somewhat guilty to be returning to play, while there was so many others who were still hoping-against-hope for some glimmer of a heavenly miracle for their missing loved ones.
I told myself that returning to work might be therapeutic. I’m glad that I did. I had some success at the tables, but of greater importance was the fact that I didn’t suddenly forget about the tragic events that have happened. Rather, it put it into a slightly better, but still poignant perspective.
In Part Two of this article, I’ll chronicle the actual in-casino results so far.
Good Luck & Good Skill at the Tables…and in Life.
By: The Mad Professor