This is really a story that is all about me!” And when our gambler goes to sleep, he will dream those impossible dreams, just as my little son used to.īut some real, flesh-and-blood gamblers, a fraction of a percent of a fraction of a percent mind you, get to experience the outsized, the outlandish, the outer limits of gambling’s good fortune. They have a dreamy look that says, “That’s really me playing those hands, and that’s my money, and everyone around me is watching me bet all this money, and they are all watching me win all this money. Check the look on the faces of your fellow low- to medium-rolling casino players as they watch a whale betting and winning more money on one hand of blackjack than some of them make in a year. My son was no different from the typical kid of any era he wanted an outsized story that he could mentally put himself into as an outsized hero who did prodigious things. “…and one day Joe turned into this hideous monster with two heads and giant teeth who ate all the children in the class and spit out their bones…” “No, Daddy, tell me a story about giants and monsters and how I kill them,” said my son. “Once upon a time there was a regular guy named Joe and he went to work every day at the local school where he was a teacher.

I always told my kids stories at bedtime.

“Daddy, tell me a story,” said my little son so many years ago when he was seven. Gambling’s Greatest Wins, Runs, Records & LegendsĮditorial Staff | Posted on Ap| A brief retelling of the stuff that makes us dream

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