Three of the Gutsiest Casino Moves You’ll Ever See
- May 11
- 6 min read
They’re not quite of the same peril as snapping Polaroids during an inverted 4G negative dive at a range of two meters (“one and a half, actually”).
But some of our friendly casino daredevils have performed many reckless gaming stunts that would do even Maverick proud.
And unlike the Russians, who outright denied the incident at the climax of Top Gun, we’re assuring you that these wild casino stunts actually did happen.
Here they are:
Two Good to be True
A middle-aged man with ice in his veins eases his way onto a craps table at Foxwoods Casino in rural Connecticut. Let’s call him Iceman.
After dabbling his way through a handful of dice shakers, Iceman finds himself below the financial hard deck, as a few out-seven rolls take a significant chunk from his initial bankroll.
Unrattled, Iceman cooly grabs hold of the dice like he’s twirling a volleyball on his fingertip and tosses a random nickel onto a snake-eyes bet. He lets ‘em fly, and lo and behold – boom! – up comes a pair of aces. Splash one!
The surrounding players flash him a thumbs up, as the emotionless Iceman collects his 30-to-1 payoff in the form of a hundred and fifty big ones.
“Press it all,” Iceman blurts out to everyone’s surprise. The stick man darts him a curious look. “Put it all on snake eyes,” Iceman insists.
The stick jockey complies, arranging a black chip and two greenies ($150) onto the square. He then pushes the dice back to Iceman, who briefly shakes them in his fist and flings them across the felt.
A bombastic applause erupts, as the surrounding players ingest what the dice are showing. You guessed it – another Ace-Ace. Splash two!
The dealer peers at the seated pit boss, befuddled, as the mathematics involved exceed his college curriculum. “Forty-five hundred,” the pit boss mouths to him.
The dealer prepares the gargantuan payoff, plucking up a series of purple and orange chips.
“Do it again!” someone shouts from the peanut gallery, half-kiddingly.
Iceman nods and instructs the dealer to again perform the outright unthinkable.
“Let it ride,” he says, igniting a collective gasp. “Put it all on the aces.”
To the dealer’s dismay, the bet is made and the dice are slid to Iceman at the far lip of the table.
The players hone in as if it’s a full-count, bottom-of-the ninth delivery of a World Series Game Seven. The tension is beyond palpable.
Although half the table takes him for a bona fide loon, Iceman maintains the same steady composure, shakes the dice up in his fist, and lets them rip one last time.
The dice perform a negative-G of their own, bang against the far wall, and tumble to a fateful halt.
Bam! The miracle is complete. Snake eyes peer back at Iceman like the gaze of an eternal power. Splash three!
Iceman finally displays his human side, reacting like he’s going Mach 10 with his hair on fire.
After a brief halt in the action in which he’s issued his $135,000 fortune, Iceman decides he’s buggin’ out and heading home.
The remaining players are left to marvel on how a mere five-dollar bet could morph into a six-figure bonanza on just three flicks of the wrist.
The odds of serving up three consecutive 2’s are unfathomable, hovering somewhere in the stratosphere.
And that’s why Iceman’s triumph will go down as among the best of the best.
Into the Danger Zone
A young man slides into an empty chair of a baccarat table at the festive MGM Grand in Las Vegas. We’ll call him Slider.
Slider doesn’t need a wingman for this affair – he’s fully fueled for a deep run on his need for greed alone.
For now, he remains somewhat grounded, idling along at a $25 table, but preparing for an epic takeoff.
He likes the Player on this day, which is feeding his bankroll at a reasonable clip.
The Martingale strategy has been a fancy maneuver for Slider thus far. Doubling up after the occasional loss has been a slick method for remaining airborne.
Suddenly, around the second hour, the Banker starts rearing his ugly mug with greater regularity. The Player seems to have gone off the radar.
After relinquishing a $25 bet, Slider doubles up and loses his $50 wager as well.
He drops a black chip on the Player. It vaporizes in an instant.
He plops down two black beauties on the Player, and moment later, watches the Banker scoff it up on a Natural-9.
Slider’s heartrate now feels like it’s going five-hundred knots. Perspiration breaks through his pores as he slides $400 onto the felt.
The third card drops in favor of the Banker, and Slider pulls out $800 from his chip stash.
After six straight crash-and-burns, you know exactly what the surrounding players were thinking:
Slider ... you stink.
He momentarily considers jumping ship in favor of the Banker, but fears a Player victory would surely ensue, thereby torturing him for his sudden disloyalty.
He defiantly slides eight strong onto the Player section, thinking this has to be the hand that ends the drought and gets him back to even ground.
As the dealer slaps down the cards, Slider’s heart performs a sharp dive into his pancreas. He watches the dealer rake away his hard-earned moolah on another Banker win.
Slider sucks in an unsettling breath, the sweat now dotting his forehead, as he realizes he’s on the highway to the danger zone.
Venturing into unchartered territory, an internal tug-o-war takes over his mind, his soul. He now holds $1,600 in his palm, gazes at the board, befuddled.
Is it time to switch to the Banker? Nope. He and the Player are in this thing ‘til the end.
He lowers the chips onto the Player section and watches his intuition fail him yet again. The seventh straight Banker win deflates his hopes at once.
We now have a crisis situation. He could bug out now and try to live with a $3,175 hit.
Or he could throttle forward and somehow survive this suicide mission. He chooses the latter, nervously plops down $3,200 onto the table.
The surrounding players brace themselves for the ensuing crash, and it comes at Slider in the form of a Banker Natural-8.
Slider ejects from his seat, flabbergasted, and darts toward the cashier window to withdraw a heft cash advance of $7k.
Moments later, he returns to the table, his entire world spinning into oblivion.
He resumes his position at the end of the table and goes in for one final swoop.
His hand trembles as he slides $6,400 onto the Player, a section of the table that has become like the Bermuda Triangle, where everything disappears.
“This is it,” he mutters. “Do or die.”
As the dealer reaches for the shoe, Slider can hardly bear to watch. The cards are flipped.
Player-King. Banker-4. Player-3. Banker-Jack. Player ...
The third card is flipped in super slo-mo, revealing a ... 6!
Slider drops to his knees, swept up in the kind of relief that literally takes your breath away. He has escaped disaster by the narrowest of margins.
A Player victory – finally!
As the dealer forks over his winnings, Slider scoops them up and rises from the table on rubbery legs, twenty-five dollar wealthier than when this madness all began.
Great Big Balls (of Fire)
A 30-something Italian man rises from a blackjack table at the once Bally’s Casino (no longer in existence) at the heart of the Vegas trip.
His pockets have been drained by the preceding hour’s unfortunate events. His bankroll is down to nothing. Nada. Goose eggs.
He is somewhat of a sports celebrity, this rugged little fella, but for now we’ll call him Goose.
On this day, the shellacking he’s been administered by the bow-tied dealer has removed him from the very six-figure bankroll he wheeled in.
He beelines it through the High Rollers room and directly to the Cashier’s window. He withdraws numerous advances, only to see them eviscerated by a series of bad hands.
Each time he returns to the window to replenish the funds, the stakes become more severe. He eventually blows through all of his savings, only to cut into his home mortgage.
Goodness gracious...
As he returns to the table, he realizes he has lost control. Goose is now in a deadspin, freefalling into an abyss. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot eject from that damn seat.
Nonetheless, this Goose refuses to die.
Finally around the eleventh hour, things bottom out. Goose finally shows signs of life.
His resurrection comes in the form of a new shoe, where the cards start going Goose’s way. The dealer goes over for three straight hands.
He then defeats the dealer by the narrowest of margins... 21-20, 19-18, 18-17...
He’s going ballistic. Suddenly, Goose can do no wrong.
He splits aces. Double-blackjack.
He doubles down on a pair of fives.
Boom! A Queen of hearts vault Goose over the dealer’s 19.
He rattles off a dozen straight victories and wisely increases the bets.
The rampage continues, as the dealer watches on, exasperated.
When all is said and done, not only has Goose recouped the entirely of his losses, including his home mortgage, his savings, and the six-figure fortune he started with, but now he’s high above sea level.
How high?
Try a lofty seven figures. Yes, we’re talking an additional million dollars he carries out with him.
For a man who looked destined for eating spaghetti from a can, Goose makes way for the most expensive 5-star eatery the Strip can avail.
That’s what persistence, a lucky shoe, and a big pair of cojones will bring you.
... great balls of fire!
-- TB
