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Lead Story. October 9, 2001 Vaguely Vegas.He sauntered in like a self-assured high roller fresh out of Vegas with wad of other peoples’ pay in his pocket and the kind of inertial good luck that makes even the dimmest bulb seem brilliant. But he crawled out a little later, real quiet-like, his bankroll a distant memory and nothing to show for it but a knot in his gut that used to be his confidence and an empty bag of pride. But lets go back a bit to before the game started... “Y’all remember when you told me that my betting style’d
get me killed in LV, well it didn’t” Lymie confided to me in the kitchen,
smugly. Early on, he got the table hot and heavy: leading off with $2 bets, raising often, but then coming up all soft at the end with impotent cards. You can’t beat a man with a soft hand and Lymie’s hard-hitting bets were belied by his pulpy output. Unfazed, he stuck to his guns and soon found himself near the bottom of a very long slippery slope. He was nearly a $50 loser by 10:15pm--that's almost Rheino territory . The Vegas game is one of caution and fear and Lymie’s freak-water style probably threw them for a time. But back at our table he was just another known quantity, a small quantity—and a predictable one at that. So it wasn’t long before I saw him putting his shoes back on and slinking out, penniless, and far too proud to shop for an IOU. |
