Gamblers Never Know When to Fold ‘em

I am a gambler.

The real purpose of gambling is to lose, not to win. We gamblers lie to ourselves, pretending to be able to influence uncontrollable and unpredictable fate, and forever hoping for a killing at the gaming tables, a gigantic win that will recoup all of our losses and allow us to quit gambling at last.

As I write this, all I really want to do is throw $1,000 on the field space at a dice table and scream “Money plays!” (When a casino gambler wants to make an immediate bet without waiting for the dealer to exchange his cash for chips, the gambler puts cash on the appropriate betting area on the table and announces that cash plays.)

It is the most exciting feeling in the world to have a big bet riding on the next turn of a card or throw of the dice. When I have a couple of $100 bills on roulette’s red or black space, it’s a thrill to watch the little ball roll around and bounce a bit before it falls into a number slot and decides the results of my wager.

The first night I spent in Las Vegas was when I was passing through on a cross-country trip. I woke up in the middle of the night because the motel air conditioner wasn’t cool enough. Hot, bored and restless, I got up and walked down to the Strip and into the nearest casino.

The place was empty except for a lone dealer standing behind a still roulette wheel. I sat down and got up the courage to ask him what the minimum bet was. He smiled and said, “Good morning. One-dollar minimum.”

I took a $5 bill out of my wallet, asked for quarter chips and quickly lost the five bucks on a few wheel spins.

That was my first casino table game. Since then I’ve lost thousands of dollars on dice, blackjack and roulette, not to mention endless quarters and nickels mechanically fed into slot machines. I acquired a nice assortment of gambling books. I subscribed to gambling magazines and magazines on Nevada. I wrote to the major Nevada casinos for their brochures and junket offers.

There’s only one problem. Most of the time, I lose.

Even though gamblers say they want to win, they keep gambling until they lose heavily, usually their whole bankroll. A gambler keeps playing when he is ahead because he’s greedy, and he keeps playing when he is losing because he wants to win back his losses, or so he says.

What is actually happening is a complicated psychological maneuver in which the gambler subconsciously wants to punish himself because he feels guilty about gambling (or something else), because he has strong self-destructive urges, or because he enjoys the excitement of playing and is happy only when he is gambling. Winning or losing is irrelevant; what is important is getting “action,” the thrill of fast betting, money (and symbolically life, hope and power) won or lost in a magical game in which normal laws of logic and science are suspended.

Any compulsive behavior is characterized by its uncontrollability and obsessive quality, which render it more important than anything else in the person’s life. Like drug addiction or alcoholism, gambling must be repeated and thought about to the exclusion of more practical endeavors. A gambler can’t help himself; often he’ll say that he doesn’t have a problem, just a bit of bad luck that is sure to change one of these days.

But it doesn’t change. If the hoped-for good-luck streak ever materializes, the gambler will merely lose back the big winnings in the next gambling session. A gambler isn’t satisfied until he is broke.

Whatever the gambler’s system, it won’t work forever. Casinos welcome system players, confident that the percentage in the house’s favor will eventually break the most persistent player.

So I have decided to quit. Last time out, I lost $1,160 shooting dice. My final bet was $300, and after I lost it on one toss of the dice, I walked out of the casino and drove away, deciding that it was time to quit for good.

I wish I could continue gambling but I realize it is destroying my peace of mind as well as my wallet. Not having self-respect is worse than not having money.

I don’t need anybody to tell me what is wrong with me. I don’t want anybody analyzing my mind or giving me patronizing advice on what’s good or bad for me. I don’t care about what anyone else has to say on the subject, in words or in print.

All I know is that I’ve got an awful problem that will never leave me.

I’m a gambler.