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Playing Craps
About two or three years ago, my Dad and I went to the casino's on a rainy, miserable spring day to kill some time and blow off some steam. Though the casinos are a mere fifteen minutes from my house, rarely is the occasion that I go there with the exception of a group outing with my family on days such as this.
As is usual on the rare chance I head to the casino's, my Dad and I went straight to the craps tables where we put our money on the "Pass Line," played the "field", bet on the "hard numbers," and threw in the occasional dollar chip for the "Yo-bet" which never seemed to come to fruition.
That day was a unique day as shortly after we parked next to a rather dull table with the people more or less cautiously throwing the dice. For anyone that's played craps, you know that a quiet table rarely has its advantages. Typically, it means the dice are "cold" and if played smartly, the best one can usually do is break even. But, due to the casino being jam-packed full of people, we decided on that table as it had a few open spots.
Shortly thereafter, a large black man walked up. He seemed to carry a certain amount of charisma about him, a certain aura of victory, and low and behold it wasn't long before he was setting his drink down right next to us and started throwing the dice. It wasn't long before he was throwing out some rather substantially large bets but also encouraging everyone at the table in the most wonderful of ways to somehow "play together." It was rather evident that this man was going to turn the tide, so to speak, of the dismal and gloomy day.
So we sat and rolled our dice. He started helping my Dad and I with pointers on how to "throw" the dice. When his turn to roll would come up, it was often fifteen to twenty rolls of the dice before he "crapped out" or rolled a seven. As usual, people were winning money left and right and before you knew it, the whole table was following his lead in the excitement of winning money and shouting and screaming.
At one point, when the leader of our table reached down to pick up the dice, my Dad nudged me and subtly indicated to me to look at the very large ring on his right hand. It was extravagantly beautiful and had some sort of inscription on it but one that we could not make out.
As things continued on, we started to really get along with this man. He was joking, laughing and assisting everyone at the table with help on how to "beat the casino." He was a magnetic person with a magnetic personality. He'd pat me on the back when I threw "good dice," I was "high-fiving" him in return when he threw good ones. We were ordering drinks from the buxom cocktail waitresses and, due to our ever-growing pile of chips, we were even tipping the dealers.
Finally, after what seemed like only minutes and with a large pile of chips in his possession, he shook our hands and said "I gotta go, guys." We wished him well and that was that. Shortly thereafter, the table once again grew quiet and "cold."
After he left, another gentleman who had been watching the proceedings set his drink and his cigarettes in the spot the magnetic man had just left. At first, we did the usual ice-breaking with comments like "Man, the table's cold all of a sudden."
The man next to me said "Well, that's what happens when Steve McNair leaves the craps table."
So it was. Everything sort of linked up at that point. The large ring on the finger was either a Super Bowl ring or an AFC Championship ring. His magnetic leadership, friendliness, and willingness to help everyone out all made sense at that point. Of course! Isn't that what an NFL quarterback is in so many ways? A leader on and off the field?
Despite my disdain for people who celebrate the deaths of celebrities as though they were some sort of deity rather than a human being, I must say that I was shocked and saddened to hear of Mr. McNair's apparent murder-suicide this past weekend.
Apparently, his twenty year-old girlfriend went nuts, shot him in his sleep and then killed herself. I can only imagine the circumstances behind this death. My personal thoughts are that she wanted him to leave his wife and kids but he refused and she lost it, purchased a gun and killed him. I don't know the full details of it nor do I expect I ever will but I feel badly for his wife and his kids in having to learn of both his death and an apparent affair at the same time.
Finally, I will say that if just a few brief moments of shooting dice with the man was any indication of his true self, then I can say he was truly a magnetic individual with amazing leadership abilities that seemed to flow from his very being. It was all very natural for him and he probably never realized the way in which it emanated from him. He was kind to my father and I when so many people hear of stars snubbing people. Of course, we didn't know who he was until he'd already gone but he treated us like fellow human beings and for that I grew a large respect for him. He wasn't showy, he wasn't flamboyant, he was just an ordinary average guy.
So long, Steve McNair, we hardly knew ye!
As is usual on the rare chance I head to the casino's, my Dad and I went straight to the craps tables where we put our money on the "Pass Line," played the "field", bet on the "hard numbers," and threw in the occasional dollar chip for the "Yo-bet" which never seemed to come to fruition.
That day was a unique day as shortly after we parked next to a rather dull table with the people more or less cautiously throwing the dice. For anyone that's played craps, you know that a quiet table rarely has its advantages. Typically, it means the dice are "cold" and if played smartly, the best one can usually do is break even. But, due to the casino being jam-packed full of people, we decided on that table as it had a few open spots.
Shortly thereafter, a large black man walked up. He seemed to carry a certain amount of charisma about him, a certain aura of victory, and low and behold it wasn't long before he was setting his drink down right next to us and started throwing the dice. It wasn't long before he was throwing out some rather substantially large bets but also encouraging everyone at the table in the most wonderful of ways to somehow "play together." It was rather evident that this man was going to turn the tide, so to speak, of the dismal and gloomy day.
So we sat and rolled our dice. He started helping my Dad and I with pointers on how to "throw" the dice. When his turn to roll would come up, it was often fifteen to twenty rolls of the dice before he "crapped out" or rolled a seven. As usual, people were winning money left and right and before you knew it, the whole table was following his lead in the excitement of winning money and shouting and screaming.
At one point, when the leader of our table reached down to pick up the dice, my Dad nudged me and subtly indicated to me to look at the very large ring on his right hand. It was extravagantly beautiful and had some sort of inscription on it but one that we could not make out.
As things continued on, we started to really get along with this man. He was joking, laughing and assisting everyone at the table with help on how to "beat the casino." He was a magnetic person with a magnetic personality. He'd pat me on the back when I threw "good dice," I was "high-fiving" him in return when he threw good ones. We were ordering drinks from the buxom cocktail waitresses and, due to our ever-growing pile of chips, we were even tipping the dealers.
Finally, after what seemed like only minutes and with a large pile of chips in his possession, he shook our hands and said "I gotta go, guys." We wished him well and that was that. Shortly thereafter, the table once again grew quiet and "cold."
After he left, another gentleman who had been watching the proceedings set his drink and his cigarettes in the spot the magnetic man had just left. At first, we did the usual ice-breaking with comments like "Man, the table's cold all of a sudden."
The man next to me said "Well, that's what happens when Steve McNair leaves the craps table."
So it was. Everything sort of linked up at that point. The large ring on the finger was either a Super Bowl ring or an AFC Championship ring. His magnetic leadership, friendliness, and willingness to help everyone out all made sense at that point. Of course! Isn't that what an NFL quarterback is in so many ways? A leader on and off the field?
Despite my disdain for people who celebrate the deaths of celebrities as though they were some sort of deity rather than a human being, I must say that I was shocked and saddened to hear of Mr. McNair's apparent murder-suicide this past weekend.
Apparently, his twenty year-old girlfriend went nuts, shot him in his sleep and then killed herself. I can only imagine the circumstances behind this death. My personal thoughts are that she wanted him to leave his wife and kids but he refused and she lost it, purchased a gun and killed him. I don't know the full details of it nor do I expect I ever will but I feel badly for his wife and his kids in having to learn of both his death and an apparent affair at the same time.
Finally, I will say that if just a few brief moments of shooting dice with the man was any indication of his true self, then I can say he was truly a magnetic individual with amazing leadership abilities that seemed to flow from his very being. It was all very natural for him and he probably never realized the way in which it emanated from him. He was kind to my father and I when so many people hear of stars snubbing people. Of course, we didn't know who he was until he'd already gone but he treated us like fellow human beings and for that I grew a large respect for him. He wasn't showy, he wasn't flamboyant, he was just an ordinary average guy.
So long, Steve McNair, we hardly knew ye!
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