Gambling Wizards – Conversations with the World’s Greatest Gamblers by Richard Munchkin

The following is a small excerpt from:

Gambling Wizards – Conversations with the World’s Greatest Gamblers
by Richard Munchkin

For those of you who didn’t know, Richard Munchkin is the brother of backgammon player and author Jake Jacobs.  Who has penned many backgammon books, but is also the author of a great fiction book, The Battered Butterfly.

In Gambling Wizards, Munchkin interviews gamblers from several disciplines.  Interviewees are Billy Walters, Chip Reese, Tommy Hyland, Mike Svobodny (BG!), Stan Tomchin, Cathy Hulbert, Alan Woods and Doyle Brunson.  There’s something for everybody in this book and all of it is entertaining and informative.

From Chapter 2 – Chip Reese (He is speaking of Nick Vachiano, poker and pool player).

The only downside he (Vachiano) had was that when he was winning, he was a hit-and-run guy.  He’s win a little bit and if he lost, he would go for a number (take a big loss).  Most of the time he won, because usually, during the course of a session you get ahead a little bit.  So he booked a lot of winners and very few losers, but when he did book a loser it was a big one.

I remember one time we were playing $300-$600 (seven card stud) at the Flamingo and Nick was losing about $40,000. …The game had been going on a long time and I quit,  There were a couple of other guys who didn’t want to play short-handed, so the game was going to break up.  Nick says, “Hold it.”  …He gets up and takes me to the cage.  He goes to his safe deposit box, and he’s got a big box.  I only had a little safety deposit box – I had about $300,000 in it and I was proud as hell….He opens this big box and he probably had a million dollars in it.  He says, “See this here.  You know me.  I always win and I leave.  This is the only time you get a shot at this money – when I’m going off (losing and steaming).”  He says, “Are you sure you want to quit?”  You can tell when a guy is in heat from gambling.  I smiled and said, “You’re right.  Let’s go back and play.”  He went off for about $200,000 in that game.  He talked me into staying and winning a bunch of money.

You can get Gambling Wizards from Flint’s Carol Cole here Flint Backgammon Boutique  or any online bookstore.

Where the Rich And the Royal Play Their Games

The Washington Post

September 6, 1981

IN MONTE CARLO one day last July, a tanned, middle-aged woman stepped onto a private beach and spied an old acquaintance. “Darling, you look so pale,” she said with obvious concern. “You aren’t working for a living are you?”

While the rest of the world works, Monte Carlo plays. During summer days, everyone is on the beach, some of the women bathing topless, their men ordering champagne from refrigerated drink carts. At night, the sunbathers don resort white and fill the restaurants, discos and casinos, where Europeans play roulette while Americans crowd the blackjack tables.

And once a year, several thousand people arrive to play in the world’s richest and most prestigious backgammon tournament. This year, by chance, I was invited to compete in the Sixth Annual Merit World Backgammon Championship along with a bevy of countesses, princes and other professional sharpies.

In a hard-fought duel of the dice in Georgetown last fall, I’d beaten Helga Orfila, wife of Organization of American States chief Alejandro Orfila, to win a division of a backgammon tournament sponsored by Black & White scotch. As my prize, I was to have been sent to play in the national championship in Los Angeles. But before I could collect, the scotch folks decided to change their promotion strategy in North America and to stop underwriting backgammon competitions. As consolation, they suggested I compete in Monte Carlo, where Black & White of Europe annually joins Merit cigarettes in sponsoring what they like the press to refer to as “the Wimbledon of backgammon.”

To the Monte Carlo tournament come the world’s best backgammon players, including the tournament’s organizer from London, Lewis Deyong, a fast-talking gambler who knows every pro and can state odds at the drop of a bet.The feared Gino Scalamandre, backgammon book author and champion player, would be there, along with Joe Dwek — a British citizen born in Cairo with the fast, dark eyes of a cobra — who makes his living winning games of chance in the world’s capitals. A wealthy young Iranian couple no longer welcome in their homeland would be there. Players with last names like Maxaculi, Bellavita, Cojab and Abimerhi would mix with gamblers and their groupies at the bar of the Hotel de Paris.

Backgammon appeals to the wealthy because it is a fast game that lends itself easily to betting. Skill is critical to winning, but, unlike chess, the dice add an element of luck that makes the game exciting in its unpredictability.

Most of the best players feel right at home in Monte Carlo, because like many of the principality’s residents, they don’t hold regular jobs. And what labor expert players must do to stay solvent — rolling dice onto backgammon boards — is generally accomplished in the shade of palm trees; like congressional junkets, tournaments are held in sunny climes. Purses at big tournaments can total tens of thousands of dollars, and side bets can double or triple a player’s winnings.

I resisted the temptation to call Helga Orfila and gloat, packed my tuxedo, and left to find out what Monte Carlo had that Ocean City lacked.

Foremost, there is the gambling. Until 1860, Monaco was a scrubby principality blessed only with abundant sunshine, olive trees and fields of violets. Today, Rolls Royces joust for parking spaces outside the palacial casino that, as European aristocracy flocked to gamble there, made Monte Carlo the premiere jewel in the Cote d’Azur’s necklace. And free of income, property and inheritance taxes, Monaco quickly found favor among those who have the most to be taxed. Now, sandwiched in the one-half square mile between Monaco’s dramatic cliffs and the Mediterranean, studio apartments in high-rise condominiums begin at $300,000.

Monte Carlo’s harbor is filled with the yachts of the very rich. Saudi Arabian businessman Adnan Khashoggi often docks his boat there, a sleek, gray, villa-sized vessel called the Nabila that looks like the villain’s ship in an Ian Fleming novel. Its heating vents slant upward from the bridge, and a couple of $200,000-plus cigarette boats, as sleek as quick-looking as their mother ship, are tucked on the middle deck of the Nabila. I asked the captain if Monte Carlo was the Nabila’s home port.

“The entire world,” he said cooly, “is our home port.”

But residents say that with the opening of the American-style Loew’s hotel and casino a couple of years ago, Monte Carlo became appealing to people who, well, who actually work for a living.

“Monte Carlo is not just catering to the millionaires anymore,” said an American stockbroker who has lived there for a decade. “To survive, the hotels have began soliciting corporate meetings and conventions. Insurance brokers, investment bankers, textile concerns are meeting here.”

The place is run with an iron hand, despite the fairly tale image Monaco projects to the world, thanks in part to handsome Prince Ranier and his American-born actress wife, Princess Grace.

“It’s an extremely disciplined country — you can see it in the cleanliness of the streets,” says the American broker with admiration. “They don’t tolerate bums here . . . Monaco has benefited from the ills of the world. A lot of people used to go to Beruit, Africa, Spain or Italy on vacation, but because of the various troubles in those places, Monte Carlo has benefited. Let’s hope we can keep the place clean and that we don’t get annoyed by jealous or envious people.”

Long-haired hitchhikers or others not likely to carry an American Express card are politely shown to the border of Italy or France by the authorities; there is no poverty in Monaco, and the citizens like it that way. Because the state has an obligation to support any permanent resident who should find himself destitute, residents of Monaco are forbidden to gamble in the principality’s casinos.

The benevolent master of fun in Monte Carlo is the Societe des Bains de Mer, or sea bathing society, a quasi-government organization (the principality owns 69 percent of the SBM’s shares) that operates most of the grand hotels, the golf and tennis clubs, and more exclusive beaches, discos and other facilities. (Once, Aristotle Onassis tried to buy controlling interest in the SBM; the government thwarted him by simply issuing more stock and diluting his interest, though it is said he received a fair price when he sold out in defeat.)

When I checked into my hotel room, a card from Prince Louis de Polignac, the chairman of the SBM’s board, welcomed me to Monte Carlo. It wasn’t a note on scented stationery from Princess Caroline, but then, since she’d broken her marriage with that rogue, Philippe Junot, she was busy elsewhere. This summer she frolicked near Cannes on a yacht with Roberto Rossellini Jr. The young couple explained to the press they were just childhood friends, but le tout Europe hoped otherwise; after all, with Prince Charles’ marriage, Princess Caroline moved center stage for fans of royal romance.

Also waiting for me at the hotel was a bottle of Black & White Scotch and an SMB gold card, passport to the SBM’s facilities, including Jimmy’z, the disco of choice for Monte Carlo’s smart set.

With the gold card, I was admitted to Jimmy’z even though I was neither titled nor wealthy. But like your average marquis, I was permitted to pay $20 a drink — for any drink — at the bar. There, after midnight, I watched impossibly handsome young men in white suits dance with slim, bronze-skinned young women wearing the kind of clothes I thought they threw away after Helmut Newton photographed them on Vogue models. Jimmy’z is a dark room with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a tropical garden. A cramped dance floor and elegant bar are, along with the patrons, the disco’s focal points.

I confess I wanted to win the backgammon tournament if only so I could walk into Jimmy’z and get noticed. I wanted to show the European playboys that an American could gamble with ice water in his veins and win. I wanted to smirk across the table at my opponent the way James Bond does when he wins at chemin de fer.

I wanted to win the $44,640 in first place prize money and — when the world’s press asked me what it felt like — I’d look as bored as possible, shrug and say, “It’s a living.”

The road to victory began each evening at 4, when a couple thousand players gathered in several halls to meet their opponents, selected by lot. An hour or so into the matches, as half the players began accumulating enough points to win that evening’s match (and half began losing), the rooms became quiet and smoke-filled. Muttered curses in Spanish, French, Arabic, German, Italian and English accompanied unlucky rolls of the dice. Cool blonds began biting perfectly manicured fingernails, men fiddled with the bands on their Rolex watches. And each night half the players advanced up their ladder, while the others had their names entered in consolation rounds.

Black & White spent about $50,000 to help Philip Morris (makers of Merit cigarettes) sponsor the tournament, according to Anthony Hal, merchandising and promotion manager for the scotch’s distiller, Buchannan & Co. of London.

“Like the tobacco industry,” said Hall, “we’re under so many controls that we’re gradually being forced out of advertising. So it’s logical that we get into sponsorship. We turned down motor racing because we didn’t want to associate liquor with driving cars. And we like to sponsor events rather than individuals, because individuals can get unlucky.”

Hall, in conjunction with Buchannan’s public relations firm, the London office of Burson-Marsteler, selected seven journalists from England, Germany, Holland, Italy and France to come as guests to report on the tournament. (One French magazine, displaying a kind of Gallic gall that would horrify American editors, declined to send a reporter on the junket unless the deal was sweetened by a payment of $10,000; Black & White declined.)

“We sponsor backgammon because it’s an old game with a new wave,” said Omar Laghzaoui, head of public relations for Philip Morris in the Middle East and Afica, who declined to say how much money his company spent to stage the seven day soiree.

Tobacco and alcohol marketing aside, my fortunes appeared mixed even before the tournament began. I was playing tennis on courts Black & White reserved for tournament entrants. Bjorn Borg calls them his home courts and the bougainvillea was in bloom on the courts’ retaining walls, but I still thought the $65-an-hour court fee even members must pay was steep. Between sets, I played some $20-a-point backgammon with Katie Wright, who along with her companion, Gino Scalamandre, is among the world’s top backgammon players. I quickly lost a couple of hundred dollars. The pain of this defeat, however, was eased by Scalalmandre.

“You haven’t made a mistake since I started watching,” he said at one point, and I swelled with pride. It was pride purchased rather expensively, of course, but it was pride nonetheless. Then Scalamandre and Wright asked if I cared to sell them a piece of myself.

In backgammon tournaments, a player can sell percentages of himself to others, who might, in turn, sell a percentage of their percentage to others. While that helps a player defray his expenses and entry fee, it also means sharing a percentage of any winnings.

I was flattered by the Scalamandre-Wright offer. I expecially liked the slightly sinister ring to the name “Scalamandre,” and didn’t mind the prospect of telling people that I was “Scalamandre’s horse” in the tournament. We agreed to consummate a deal that night.

It was Scalalmandre’s good fortune that we couldn’t find one another on the opening night of play. His would have been a borderline investment — I lost may first match and had to wait until the next night to resume play in a consolation match. Still, if I could win the first consolation match, I’d pocket more than $1,000, enough to buy a round for a few of the boys and girls at Jimmy’z.

All around me the show was dazzling. Players met each night in three, high-ceilinged rooms. Wooden backgammon boards the color of a pack of Merit cigarettes lined rows of long tables. Among women, Yorkshire terriers as decorative accessories, clutched to sides like handbags, were the rage. The pets seemed comfortable in the crook of the arms of their mistresses, though some impatient ones drew rebukes when they licked the face of their Cartier Santus sports watches, the heavy looking gold ones with the rivet-like stainless steel screws.

“The terriers’ mistresses tend to be blond, long and slinky, be they models, actresses or singers — or royalty, from the Duchess d’Orleans to Princess Caroline of Monaco,” reported the International Herald Tribune earlier this summer. In France, women pay $700 for the pick of the litter that best matches their wardrobes. Toward the end of the evening, as the little fellas grew impatient to leave the backgammon hall, their yapping mixed with the clatter of dice.

Livia Sylva Weintraub’s purse was not a terrier, but a small, jewel-encrusted brass elephant. Inside, in addition to the usual contents of a fashionable woman’s purse, were wads of $100 bills. I know this because Weintraub sat down next to me at a black-tie dinner held to auction the top-rated players to investors interested in creating a side betting pool. Weintraub opened her purse to dispense perfume samples with a note card that read “A Little Love With Livia.”

Livia Sylva Weintraub, of New York, looked like a quen bee in a black evening gown with white puffed sleeves. Her red hair was set dramatically against a complexion so pale Gloria Vanderbilt would look tan next to her. (Sun apparently never kisses Weintraub’s skin – I saw her the next day pool side in an ankle-length white peasant dress with a matching parasol.)

“I am the first in the United States to develop a complete bee pollen treatment,” she told me as she distributed samples from her purse to women at the dinner table. “The bee pollen was used by all Hungarian beauties.”

Weintraub explained tht she hailed lfrom Transylvania — “I can make you do anything I vant, darlink.” She said she inherited her mother’s secret Romanian recipe for bee pollen cream and four years ago began marketing a line of cosmetics under her name, with financial help from her husband, a real estate developer and financier. “They finally bottled Livia,” read a slogan on a promotional flyer called a “Liviagram”.

During dinner, Weintraub pointed out some of the other guests around the room. Over there was the wife of the man who created Las Brisas, the expensive resort hotel in Acapulco. Near her was the Milan manufacturer of an exclusive line of designer dresses. There, the elderly gentleman with silver hair, was the Marquis d’Arcangues, of Biarritz, and his blond girlfriend, the Baroness von Meks. I remarked that the marquis seemed a good deal older than the baroness.

“Yes,” cracked a male British gentleman seated near me, “and he doesn’t seem to mind at all, does he?”

Seated near the marquis and the baroness was a duke who told his dinner companions that people ate like savages before his ancestors invented the dinner fork. Someone dubbed him the duke of Fork, a possible rival to the earl of Sandwich.

While watching the rich and the royal, I notice Wientraub and a partner bid several thousand dollars to back several top-ranked backgammon players. Several days later, before flying back to New York to attend a private dinner with New York Gov. Hugh Carey, Weintraub earned back her bet many times as her players finished in the money. I also contributed in a small way to her good fortune, losing $150 in a small stakes side match with the queen of bee pollen-based cosmetics.

Never, I decided, play backgammon with a Transylvanian.

After a bad start, I began cutting a swatch through my opponents in the first consolation tournament. I beat an earnest young man from Austria and a British mum with orange lipstick, gold high-heeled shoes and glasses with rhinestones in the frames. A Mexican gentleman who looked like a 75-year-old George Hamilton lost to me, as did a beginning player from Los Angeles who sported a diamond pinkie ring, a wafer-thin Piaget watch and a brown suede jacket. I was hot.

In the quarter finals, on the brink of entering the semi-finals and the money, I batted a nervous, middle-aged British woman named Mary Wyndham to a 12-12 tie in a 13-point match. The last game decided our fates, and we played evenly until the end, when Wyndham rolled a heart-breaking double five to take the match. As protocol dictated, I congratulated her with a handshake and a smile. Inside, I was crushed. There would be no trimphant entrance at Jimmy’z, no cool comments for the press. There would be no telegram to my editor telling him I’d be taking an extra month off to tour the south of France — as the eventual winner of the tournament, a Long Island woman named Lee Genud, did after her victory.

But then I remembered Chico Kranz, with whom I’d played a pickup set of tennis earlier in the week.

Kranz, a heavyset and olive-complected man with a diamond ring on one hand, explained he was cooling his heels in Europe until America’s baseball strike ended and he could return to making his living betting on baseball games in Las Vegas.

Kranz talked to me about gambling.

“Most guys, they start losing, they start making bigger bets,” Kranz told me. “When you lose, you got to decrease your bets.”

Kranz told me the successful, disciplined gambler understands losing and winning are not emotional events. On the court next to Kranz and me, two professional backgammon players batted a tennis ball around like a couple of Sunday amateurs. They laughed at their mistakes and seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves. Only when the set was over did I learn they’d bet a friendly $4,000 on the outcome. After Monte Carlo, it was time to decrease my bets.

The Dictionary – Part One

by Jana Bohrer

Back Game
Noun The Wonderland one wanders into after rolling an opening 4-1 creatively played by splitting and slotting the 5 “as an experiment to see how it turns out”.  Followed by an opponent’s 4-3 hitting twice. Then fanning, coming in, getting hit again somewhere else, and repeating this sequence until one achieves a number of men in the opponent’s board for a “well-timed” game.  At some point during which, one takes the cube because:
1.  One is a masochist whose hobbies include watching Nickolodeon marathons of Gilligan’s Island and patronizing a holistic dentist who believes betel leaves are an anestheticgilligan
2.  One is off one’s meds
(See also:  Backgammoned and Creative)

1.  Verb Losing 3x the amount of the cube.  Frequently occurring in a 5 way chouette in which one is holding 4 sixteen cubes in the box. This often results voluntary homelessness, as one is too frightened reveal that one has lost a significant amount of the household grocery money and all of the little tyke’s college fund;  (See also: Back Game, Chouette)

2.  Noun The game on the back of the checkers board variously known as:
a. Jacoby’s Bane
b.  The One Game
c.  The Game of Power
d.  The Precious

Noun  A checker you anticipate  using to build a useful point.  It should be noted that Builders must be used sparingly and while still in earliest stage of their development.   If the metamorphosis of a builder is not interrupted;  or if a hive of Builders is allowed to form; the Builders transform into Blots.  These Blots will in time emerge from their chrysalises as Gammons.
(See also:  Blot, Gammoned, Creative)


Noun A type of backgammon game which allows more than two players.  Side effects include, but are not limited to:
1.  Superiority Complex – “Every other player in this chouette is a creative idiot.”
2.  Inferiority Complex – “I should say something about leaving 5 blots, but I’m losing, and they’ve been playing so many more years than I have.  He keeps saying they’re builders…”
3. Rage Complex – “Well, if he hadn’t refused to hit twice when I told him too, I wouldn’t have had to hit him with the baffle box.”
4. Sleeping in the Car Complex – “I told you.   I checked out of the room already and now we don’t have the money to check back in.  The car’s perfectly comfortable, just imagine you’re shorter.”
(See also: Creative, Builder, Gammoned, Backgammoned, Back Game)

Chouette is derived from the French for “Train”.t2

Adjective  Term used by experienced players to describe various plays made by less experienced players.  Most commonly used by one’s spouse/significant other, as in it’s first known written usage found on the wall of King Tut’s tomb which depicts Queen Ankhesenamun saying:
(See also:  Sarcasm)

The Nightstalker

by Jana Bohrer

which is which

Bruce Becker was a lawyer and sometime movie producer.
He is also the alter ego of the spine chilling super-villain known as the Nightstalker.


Okay.  Not so much.  But, it is a fact that in 1974 Bruce Becker did to backgammon books what Richard Ramirez did in 1980’s to the peaceful sleep of Los Angelinas.  (And you have to admit, the resemblance is striking.)

There soooo many things one could say about this book.  But I think the following charming anecdote told by Becker himself sums up quite a lot:

“My eleven year old daughter, who is a very good player, lost a gammon to me in a game she that she thought she had a good chance to pull off.  She was furious at both of us (herself for losing and me for winning); she turned on me with venom and blurted out, “I hate you!”  I knew then that she would be a great player someday.”exorsict

I know, I’m verklempt too.  After all, isn’t it every proud papa’s dream to sire backgammon’s first little Tonya Harding? Tonya Harding pumps her fists as she finishes her

“Backgammon for Blood” continues in the same vein with more pithy advice on winning gracefully.

“This is one game where even the pretenses of ‘sportsmanship’ are eliminated.  Outright hostility prevails, and in my opinion the world is better for it…”

The Emily Post of backgammon goes on to suggest the proper way of correcting an opponent’s illegal move:

“I like to add a slight leer when I do; the implication that my opponent may not be quite as smart (or as honest) as I am can sometimes rattle him.”

To be fair, Becker does seem to realize there may be consequences for following his advice, and tells the reader how to deal with any twinges of conscience one may feel after acting like a complete !@*$@*#!:

“You should never feel guilty because you’re hated.”hate

After thoroughly covering how to be a success in backgammon by channeling your inner Attila the Hun, Becker attempts to tackle strategy.  He sums up his philosophy thus:

“Most modern day writers on backgammon recommend a running game as their basic strategy: get your men moving as fast as possible out of your opponent’s board; bring them around quickly; avoid a back game like the plague.

“I don’t agree.”

Um…memo to Bruce – 1. Move men  2.  Bring men around  3.  Bear men off………Can you say OBJECT OF THE GAME DUDE!?

As for this back game hypothesis, I have been testing this strategy for a number of years.  Not willingly, not purposefully, not mindfully – but testing it nonetheless.  A lot.  And the only benefit I have derived from the experiment is perfecting methods of getting off the gammon without wasting any pips.

I do not have enough space to speak of Becker’s treatise on opening rolls.  But the highlight reel includes:

5-3 making the 3 point is “a waste”

6-5 played with a lover’s leap to the 13 is “…a death jump.  Play this roll in this fashion and you are virtually destined to doom.”

To be perfectly fair to Becker, I did ask my backgammon guru Jim Painter if anyone in the old days (before computers or slide rules were invented) ever played openings as this book depicts.

As we went through them he commented, “Yeah, 6-2 slotting the 5, everybody did that…4-1 slot the 5 and down was popular…3-2 two down, a lot of guys did that….etc.”

But when we got to the 6-2, 6-3 and 6-5 moves, and I explained that Becker played them all by bringing two down, he exclaimed, “NOBODY did that!”  (Pause, followed by wistful sigh.) “At least nobody I ever played.”

The Chapter on conducting a proper bear off begins:rosemary

“In talking of bearing off, I like to think of my home board as pregnant and ready to bring forth,  Unfortunately some pregnancies miscarry.”

Get that image out of your head.  I dare you.

Any finally my favorite sentence from the book:

“First, seriously consider throwing the doubling cube at him.”

I could add context.  But isn’t it perfect just the way it is?

There are a few other things you should know.

Becker tried to do to Hollywood what he did to books.  United Artists in a fit of insanity gave him a deal to make three movies, the first of which was “Three”. (One cannot make this stuff up.  Same Bruce Becker, I checked.)


Of this opus, the New York Times said:

“Three” strives for amateur status without ever quite achieving it.”

Mr. Becker’s contract was cancelled.

In parting, please do not take this review as suggesting that you not purchase “Backgammon for Blood”.  Au contraire – buy as many copies as you can find.  (Contact me for the best prices.)  They are wonderful gifts, and are especially suited for presentation to obnoxious in-laws.   Make sure the in-law in question has time to thoroughly read and digest the book.  Then play them for money.  Be careful of winning so much that they are forced to move in with you.

PS – “Backgammon for Blood” by Becker should in no way be confused with an excellent book of the same name by Chris Bray, available through Amazon.


The U. and B. a Backgammon Limerick

by Jana Bohrer

Next up in our ongoing series – a twofer – with poetry!


See Gaby Horowitz and the C.U.B.E

U – Use the Cube as a Weapon, NOT as a Gift &
B – Blend Checker Play and Cube Action

(Remember while you groan, it’s not that easy.  You try it sometime.)

I once knew a player from Akron,
Who blent checker play and cube action.
He first threw the men,
The cube followed them.
And they landed mixed up in the bathroom.

It’s a true story too.  Except for a few major details.

I have never known a player from Akron.  If I ever did know a player from Akron, I apologize.  I didn’t know I knew you.

You were an unknown known.  As it were.

Anyway, the player involved in the equipment tossing was in a post-tournament chouette, and I’m afraid his scoresheet didn’t look too healthy.  At around 4:00 am, when the human spirit is at its lowest ebb, this player was in a losing race.  He rolled 2-1 – twice.  But it was only after his opponent rolled a 6-6, and he rolled a 2-1 for the third time that he cracked.  He did not use the cube as a weapon, nor did he throw the checkers.  That was poetic license.

What he did do was express some frustration with his dice by “rolling” them about 50 feet into the bathroom where they bounced around like Chicklets.  It was a good pitch.  Judging from his set up and finger position, I think it was a knuckle ball curve for a strike right over the toilet bowl. kc

They whizzed right by the head of his opponent sitting opposite, who swears he could hear a small sonic boom as they went by.  I don’t believe that though, he was too busy ducking under the table to notice much of anything in my opinion.cs

Well, it took a while to locate the dice. They were the tiny precision kind, and they were white, so they sort of blended in with the hotel bathroom decor.  But it was the damndest thing,  when we found them he had rolled – 6-6!  Making him the record-holder for “Longest Shooter of Boxcars in a Non-Tournament Situation”.

PS – None of the above is really true either.  Probably.

In case you need to…

Brush up on the Tournament Rules before joining us on August 25th at the Kirkwood Station Brewing Company at 6:00 pm – BYOB-Bring Your Own Board – we’ve added added a page to our site for that.  US Tournament Rules & Clock Procedures.

Also on that page are the Clock Procedures which we hope we never, ever, ever, have to use.

We’ve also posted the USBGF Ethical Standards which we KNOW you don’t really need to see, but I just figured out how to add pages and got carried away.

A more fun post coming later today.