When I read gambling books, I usually dog-ear pages of interest. With Colin Jones’s book, The 21st-Century Card Counter, I had to change my approach. It made no sense to dog-ear every page, so I just started circling passages and writing notes in the margins. In lieu of a traditional book review evaluating the book, I decided to treat the book like a textbook, and go through its talking points in an N-part series. Here we go!
[p. 5] “This ‘card counting’ thing haunted me. Was it real?” That’s the question I’ve faced and debated publicly for two decades. CJ’s perspective at the time was a bit different from mine. He was wondering if you could really make money, or a living, doing it. I ask the logical follow-up: Even if you could, why would you want to? By the end of the book, the hero CJ answers his own question (yes, card-counting is “real”), but evolves to answer my follow-up (answer: “I wouldn’t”).
Now that he has been a successful test case, CJ gets criticism for making card counting sound too easy. I don’t think that’s fair. His materials say, “If you do X and Y, you will make money.” The fact that most people won’t do X and Y is hardly his fault. Does he misrepresent the difficulty level of executing X and Y? I don’t think he does, at least not in the book. I think X and Y aren’t that challenging, but I think professional gambling has been mis-portrayed throughout the media at large, and therefore attracts a lot of weak, delusional weirdos, who have unrealistic expectations, and would have had a hard time succeeding in many career paths, not just AP. I’ve said many times: If the thing that attracts you to being a professional gambler is easy money and being able to sleep until noon every day (which you could do), then you aren’t going to be successful. (At least, not by my definition of success.)
Some of my old teammates think I’m just teasing when I describe card counting as a “gambling habit.” Do I look like I’m joking? A lot of APs look at a game and say, “It’s positive.” Yeah, so? Who said our threshold is zero? An investor facing an array of choices doesn’t pour time and money into things just because they are positive. If you marketed your start-up company to Wall Street, offering a $10 return for every $1 million invested (positive!), you’d come home with an empty hat.
When facing a menu of possible investments, we start by looking at the risk-adjusted returns of each. For a long-term AP, winning takes care of itself, and the only real risk in the casino landscape is heat. Counting cards has a high heat-to-profit ratio, compared to other targets that are usually available in the same casino, sometimes at the same table. To make matters worse, the heat might affect your entire portfolio. Imagine that you’re a skilled stockpicker who can beat the S&P, and there’s a marginally positive penny stock that might get your entire account frozen, because the company is on the Russia sanctions list. But it exhibits short-term volatility and trades on online exchanges 24 hours per day. Only an action junkie with a ten-foot pole would touch that! [word of the day: “junkie”]
I’ve heard people say they enjoy the mental stimulation of counting cards. All the people who link being “good at math” with card counting are a bit loose in their English. Executing a card-counting system involves very little math; rather, it involves arithmetic. There’s a difference. I don’t get much mental stimulation from counting the change in my pocket, which is the same arithmetic task. (When I see the silvery George Washington, I count +25. The tiny silvery Roosevelt is +10. The brown Abe Lincoln is +1. The medium silvery Jefferson is +5. The maple leaf is a 0. When my count exceeds +212, I buy a Power Bar at the gas station.)
The mechanical process of counting cards is a repetitive, rote process with no creativity or problem solving at all. I actually wonder if counting cards (or playing video poker at 1000 hands/hour) for 30+ hours per week might somehow cement some pathways in the brain so that creative thinking is retarded. Over long hours, counting is mind-numbing.
But the boring stretches of waiting bets while the count drones on are interrupted by the occasional frenzy of big bets. For those of you who took a psychology course, does this sound familiar? We know that the strongest way to addict an animal is periodic or random reinforcement: We give the animal an exciting stimulus from time to time, not every time. You all saw the video of the pathetic rat pressing the button repeatedly, hoping to get a shot of sugar or cocaine every twentieth time, dying of starvation when the reward was permanently removed, despite the availability of sure-thing food in the adjacent bowl. Tell me how that’s different from a gambler on a slot machine, or a card counter at the tables.
The fact that the card counter’s game might be positive doesn’t change much. The way this system offers occasional big-betting opportunities interspersed throughout periods of boredom turns the player into a card-counting junkie (the plot of French Connection III, set at the Aviation Club in Paris), always wanting to play one more shoe, and never feeling quite satisfied no matter how many max bets he wins, or how many new ATHs he reaches.
Describing the process as “mentally stimulating” is sad. Meth heads and heroin junkies describe their drug of choice as “stimulating” too. I’m not saying that CJ is basically a junkie-cum-drug-dealer-kingpin. The negative connotations of that don’t fit here, because the addictive product—counting cards—is beneficial to CJ’s customers, if they do it right. I know an AP who is addicted to working out, running, and generally eating healthy foods. He just can’t help himself. Pathetic.
So go ahead and count, and make money. It’s real in that sense. But don’t tell me it’s mentally stimulating or intellectually challenging. Just admit that it feels good to you, and it’s your little gambling habit that might be hard to kick. Rehab counselors like me will tell you that the best way to kick a habit is to replace it with a healthier habit. They’ll also tell you to start with an honest admission. [Here’s mine: I like watching kung-fu movies on Netflix; I don’t claim that it’s mentally stimulating.]
CJ could only kick the habit by removing himself from casinos. But what would happen if he happened to come across a “glorious true 1” (or a more glorious true 4). I have a feeling he can’t help himself. Who remembered the word of the day?
I don’t think the folks who claim card counting is mentally stimulating tend to be stimulated by the arithmetic per se. I suspect that the memory aspect – mundane and rote though it may be – is where they believe they find the mental stimulation.
There are unpredictable varied data points that provoke different actions. And each data point must be actively “remembered” in a sense by keeping the running count updated. Perhaps a task fit for the mind of a salamander, but still a task requiring a mind nonetheless.
“The mechanical process of counting cards is a repetitive, rote process with no creativity or problem solving at all.” Could not the same be said of uploading information one shoe and downloading it the next? I’m not arguing that card counting isn’t dull, repetitive, and rote. I just don’t see how that’s inherently a criticism when the same could be said of at least some other ways to beat the game.
I appreciate the example of the skilled stockpicker who can beat the S&P 500 choosing to take unnecessary risk. But of course where this analogy breaks down most stockpickers – like most card counters – are not actually skilled, even if they think they are.
Card counting is not so much different in kind, but rather in degree, from other methods of beating games. The rote process of counting is simple enough that after six months of putting in the hours, you probably hit the limit of technical skill. My own counting has not really changed in decades. But for beyond-counting approaches, I am still making meaningful improvements in my game, even after decades of play. It would take years to get to the point when such methods become rote, and most players will never reach that ceiling. For your sequencer who starts with five targets, what about going all the way up to 32 or more targets? What about counting at the same time? What about uploading and downloading at the same time? What about being super-smooth, so as to not look like a robot (you do NOT want to mumble like Rain Man with your head tilted). Any form of team play is immediately more complicated than solo counting. Also, many BC methods involve higher heat precautions (you REALLY don’t want to blow a good game on something preventable, whereas CC is kinda “backoff-shmackoff”), increasing the complexity further. If you get to the point where those methods are rote, more power to you. And then maybe you would no longer find those things stimulating. You’re just a junkie with increasing tolerance. “I wanna new drug!” But that’s really life in general, not just AP.
James mentioned the video poker player who plays 1000 hands per hour for 30 hours a week. Whether or not he was thinking of me specifically when he wrote that, that has been my life for more than 25 years! And I still find it stimulating!
The stimulation doesn’t come from the repetition. It comes from the thrill that I continue to be able to make a nice living going against an industry that doesn’t want me to be able to do that! Continuing to be able to figure out how to zig when the casinos zag provides me with a feeling of accomplishment.
I didn’t do well working 9-5 jobs in corporate America. I’d always started out with a bang and eventually my inability to play well with others would come back to haunt me. So, then I had to go try it somewhere else.
For me, making it in video poker requires much more than learning the game strategies and executing those strategies flawlessly. (I’m actually nowhere near flawless, although I strive to be.) The game includes figuring out promotions (which involves more math than arithmetic, but certainly not actuary-level mathematics), keeping my welcome, deciding which promotion at which casino is the best, estimating when it’s best to back off for a while at a particular casino, and finding another place and game to play when my welcome is withdrawn. To me that’s what keeps me interested.
By the standards of most people, I’m a pretty bright guy. But I don’t kid myself to believe I’m anywhere near the James Grosjean level of brightness. So maybe, at my level of intelligence, stimulation is easier than it is when you’re at James’ level. But I’m happy with my life and do not consider myself a junkie. James’ opinion may differ.
“Whether or not he was thinking of me specifically” –No, I wasn’t! I don’t think you’d find it as stimulating if all you were doing was banging out the 30 hrs x 1000 rds/hour every week. That’s giving short shrift to your own range of AP activity. As you mention, you figure out new games, which then requires learning a new strategy, and possibly producing a new BS card. You’re an author, which ITOTKO tells us is a much greater undertaking than people realize. You market software, answer people’s questions tirelessly online, AND … host the weekly GWAE radio show. To me that GWAE frequency is simply … impossible (have you guys considered just twice a month?). If we were to de-volve you (DEVO!), strip away all those activities, and turn you into a player who bought a strategy card and then just went to bang out the hours, I don’t think you’d find the business as stimulating–mentally or otherwise. We’ll never know, and your opinion may differ.
Thank you for taking the time to respond. Your response generally makes sense to me, and I’ll certainly concede the complexity of keeping a beyond counting game alive in comparison. But your comment about 32 (or more, yikes!) sequences, which hinted at the sky being the limit of complexity failed to prove your point to me. Counting is mastered in six months because systems from KO to Uston APC are all sub-optimal and extremely simplified in an effort to be human-feasible. Computer-perfect counting of every card in theory is an order of magnitude more complex than the standard “systems” that take months to master.
But I can see you rolling your eyes. Like you point out, who says the edge threshold is zero? I have no numbers in front of me but I’m nearly certain that the edge from computer-perfect counting would pale in comparison to 32+ keys.
Mr. Jones named his school Blackjack Apprenticeship. I suspect that most of his students suspect they are no longer apprentices when they’ve mastered Hilo counting. But perhaps the lesson here is that even the perfect Hilo counter with thousands of hours very much remains an apprentice at a game far more complex than he imagines it to be.
But what do I know? By the above definition (and in reality), I’m certainly an apprentice myself.
Using computer-optimal counting as a ceiling for card counters is a bogus comparison to BC. I’m not a theorist. I’m a working stiff. The empirical reality is that counters do NOT try to further their technical skills after, say, the first six months, and it would be a waste of time to do so, since the gain is marginal. In contrast, BC players who have been in it for years and years DO work on improving their game, and they are WAY below the ceiling, and further practice and learning would significantly boost their earn. I am aware of many games that just sit there unplayed, because the players who know of the game have not reached the skill level to beat the target. So there would be a constant challenge for those trying to reach those targets. That’s really the question. Does the technical aspect of counting challenge a player after the first six months? I doubt it. But the technical execution of many BC plays will challenge a player until the end of a career.
I’m a recreational BJ player. And yes, a gambler. The reason I started card counting via BJA was because I realized at some point that I prefer to make money gambling rather than lose it. I have a job that requires a lot of creativity and imagination, given that I need to plan events and determine policy amid a dynamic, multi-layered organization. I’m always pondering how a decision I’m making affects other parts of the organization. This is stressful at times. To me, it’s the rote memorization and the scripted plays of counting that are diverting and recreational. Mind-numbing and stimulating at the same time! I wish I had the time to learn and scout BC opportunities. Maybe when I retire. For now, BJ counting is just fine.
Like Bob Dancer, you’re talking about the rote game as a break from some OTHER job or busy lifestyle (like a relaxing spa day), and that’s definitely true. After a long day doing computer work, I like the change of pace of sitting in the casino at a non-challenging, “vanilla” BC game (and even when it’s not challenging/stimulating, sometimes you still gotta go to work to pay the bills). But I don’t think CC would be that stimulating if that’s the only thing someone does, which might explain why there isn’t one career CC specialist at the BJ Ball. CC is great for a year or three, but too boring for a career. Quite a few APs get bored or depressed, usually during times of losing but sometimes even when winning, and both Richard Munchkin and I give them the advice: “Have you considered getting a life? You know, some hobby outside the casino, like improv comedy or pickleball.”
I absolutely agree. My limit of CC is about two hours. I can’t imagine a lifestyle of grinding out hours and hours of CC play on the road. That would be soul crushing to me.
Mostly off topic comment…
I love Hong Kong action flicks.
The John Wick style is really just a throwback to John Woo’s work in Hard Boiled/The Killer where a gun is used at close range as a hand-to-hand combat weapon.
Oh yeah, those are fun. They made a few of those in a row that were very strong.
I mostly watch the older ones like “Legendary Weapons of China” and “Drunken Master”. I’ve watched both of those dozens of times.
My opinion is that if you can make it as an AP you probably have the work ethic and guile to be very successful in other areas of entrepreneurship.
You often see opportunities other don’t see, even when right in front of their eyes.
This type of thinking allows you see AP opportunities that are outside the casino realm.
Junkie.
” I don’t get much mental stimulation from counting the change in my pocket, which is the same arithmetic task. (When I see the silvery George Washington, I count +25. The tiny silvery Roosevelt is +10. The brown Abe Lincoln is +1. The medium silvery Jefferson is +5. The maple leaf is a 0. When my count exceeds +212, I buy a Power Bar at the gas station.)”
Counting change isn’t stimulating at all. But what is stimulating is when you find a “W” mint mark Quarter in great condition, a doubled die penny or quarter on the obverse or reverse, or a rare 1955 DDO penny. That’s the only time stimulation occurs when counting change.
I know I’m a little late to this party, but this post and the comments really got my juices flowing, so here goes!
I don’t think CC is inherently a “gambling habit” (and I suspect you don’t mean that literally, JG), but I have wondered at times whether AP still has the potential to cause gambling addiction/disorder. According to the DSM criteria (https://www.ncpgambling.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/DSM-5-Diagnostic-Criteria-Gambling-Disorder.pdf), several of the potential criteria are unrelated to the financial aspect of gambling. The most significant potential risk for APs, I think, is “h) Has jeopardized or lost a significant relationship, job, or educational or career opportunity
because of gambling” [emphasis on *relationship*].
In my few years as an AP, I haven’t done much to build my network, so I don’t know about the personal lives of other APs besides what I read or hear about on GWAE, but I have to imagine that this lifestyle has interfered with many a relationship. To be clear, I don’t think that inherently has to do with addiction. There are many relationships that hit the rocks because of unusual lifestyles (e.g. constantly being on the road), or because one or both partners are too invested in their work and don’t make enough time for each other or family. Ditto for time-consuming hobbies. But I do get curious about whether the addictive nature of our work/hobby makes us particularly vulnerable to making poor decisions about where to prioritize our time, all conveniently justified with the explanation that we’re chasing EV.
On the flip side, the work we do as APs is undeniably fun. How cool to make money playing games! I think about the various hobbies out there, and basically all of them are either (relatively) financially neutral (e.g. running outdoors) or have significant costs associated with them (e.g. gaming, skiing, sailing, travel). I definitely enjoy getting paid for hobby of choice.
One other phenomenon that I haven’t seen mentioned yet is the concept of flow. I definitely get into flow when I play table games. It’s also why I love jigsaw puzzles. And writing code. In fact, quick tangent, I’ve actually had the opposite experience of what JG described regarding CC. CC definitely puts me in flow, and I’ve grinded out 14 hour days playing BJ that just flew by. I’ve recently transitioned almost entirely away from CC to BC plays, but the one thing I really miss is how much easier it was to find opportunities and consequently get into flow (even though I know the opportunities were less lucrative, had higher risk, and attracted more heat).
Anyway, sorry to ramble! This post and the comments just touched on so many of the thoughts that have been milling around my head the past few years, and I don’t have APs in my life I can commiserate or discuss with. (Speaking of which, if anyone has recommendations for online AP communities that aren’t primarily focused on BJ, I’d love to leave my lone wolf days behind and make some friends!)
And thanks, JG, for your consistently insightful musings.
Try blackjackthediscord.com. If that doesn’t work try emailing me.
“The fact that the card counter’s game might be positive doesn’t change much. The way this system offers occasional big-betting opportunities interspersed throughout periods of boredom turns the player into a card-counting junkie (the plot of French Connection III, set at the Aviation Club in Paris)”
Alas, I am afraid this place does not exist anymore. It has been replaced by a new “casino” though but counting cards here would be quite difficult… Good for the junkie!