— Editor’s Note: The following narrative recounts a landmark weekend for the MIT Blackjack Team, a consortium of card-counting phenoms who won millions from the casinos. The team’s exploits, as chronicled in the best-selling book Bringing Down the House, two television documentaries and Kevin Spacey’s upcoming movie, have been based primarily on the recollections of a single team member. ‘The MIT Team’s $500,000 Weekend’ is written by Mike Aponte, another original member of the world-famous team and co-founder, along with Dave Irvine, of www.BlackjackInstitute.com. Blackjack aficionados will recognize Aponte as the 2004 World Series of Blackjack Champion.
$20,000 was riding on the table, and for once I was sitting pretty: 20 on one hand, 19 on the other, and the dealer was showing a 6. I was due. Over the last three shoes I had dropped more than $100,000. The dealer waited for my stand signal, and then turned over his hole card — a 10, for a total of 16. The dealer took a hit card. It was a 5. “Sorry sir. Twenty-one.” I shook my head in disbelief. The dealer couldn’t help but laugh as he snapped up my 5k chips.
“That’s ridiculous! How do you always pull 21 like that?” The dealer asked, “What’s the count?” “I have 17.” Martinez smiled. “You’re all set. Can you deal to me now?”
I wasn’t playing at a high stakes table in Vegas, and the $120,000 I lost was not real. It was the Thursday evening before Super Bowl XXIX, and I had just passed my trip checkout in a non-descript classroom at MIT. Every week our blackjack team held meetings to practice and plan future trips. Before each trip, players were required to pass a skills test to ensure they were on top of their games. In 24 hours the team would play for keeps. As I dealt Martinez his checkout, I thought back on the unlikely path that had led us to this point. When Martinez and I became good friends during freshman year, neither of us could have ever imagined what the future had in store.
Several years earlier, I received a life-changing offer. I was recruited by Josh, a good friend, to join the “MIT Blackjack Team.” At first I was highly skeptical, but also very intrigued. Josh convinced me to attend a meeting to see firsthand what the team was all about. By the end of the meeting I was fully converted. Not only was the team a legitimate operation, all of the strategies the team employed were 100% legal. What was there not to like? The opportunity to live the extravagant lifestyle of a high roller and beat the house using an ingenious, mathematical approach was too much for a college kid to pass up.
When I signed on, the team was a legal entity, a limited partnership called Strategic Investments (SI). It wasn’t long before I brought Martinez on board. By that time Josh had moved on to another high stakes game, trading bonds on Wall Street. Unfortunately, Martinez and I did not get to play much for SI. In the fall of 1993, the limited partnership was abruptly dissolved due to the team’s poor performance. SI’s business plan looked great on paper but its execution was less than stellar. Strategic Investments was suddenly history, and so were our blackjack careers, or so I thought.
In the summer of 1994, Johnny C invited Martinez and me to join a small, handpicked team he was putting together. Johnny C had been one of the managers of SI and was a blackjack wizard, having played professionally since 1982. At the team’s first meeting, we decided to make two major changes to address the failure of SI. We would revamp our training methods to raise our quality of play. We would focus on card counting, specifically the call-in game, also called the Big Player (BP) routine. Our improved training methods and shift in strategy paid immediate dividends as we broke three banks and more than doubled our initial bankroll by the end of summer. We stayed focused and maintained the disciplined and professional approach that was the key to our success. In the months to follow, our bankroll continued to balloon, but we weren’t satisfied. There was still much blackjack to be played, starting with Super Bowl weekend.
“Wallet, plane ticket, alias player cards, $160,000 in cash.” As I looked over my trip checklist, a horn honked outside. Martinez appeared in my doorway, packed and ready to go. It was Friday and soon Las Vegas would be bustling, full of low rollers and high rollers, eager to celebrate the biggest sports event of the year. Millions of dollars would be wagered and amidst the hordes of gamblers it would be easy for our team to blend in.
After we checked in at Boston’s Logan Airport, Martinez and I patted down our bodies to make sure all our cash was secure. As Martinez and I walked through the metal detector, no one was the wiser that between the two of us, we were carrying more than $300,000. Transporting large quantities of cash had become commonplace for us, but I remember the first time I handled a considerable sum of money. On my first trip as a BP, I was handed $30,000 in three 10k stacks. My eyes bugged out at the sight of more cash than I had ever seen, more than my college tuition and living expenses for an entire year. Now, once through security, Martinez and I hit the restroom where we transferred all the cash from our persons into our backpacks. Needless to say, our backpacks would never leave our sight until safely secured in Vegas.
As our plane prepared to land at McCarran International Airport, passengers craned their necks to get a glimpse of the dazzling Vegas nightscape. I could sense the excitement and anticipation of everyone on board. As we rode the escalator down to baggage claim, Martinez pointed out a well-dressed man holding up a sign. When we approached the gentleman, he asked, “Mr. Kim?” “Yes,” I replied. “Welcome to Las Vegas Mr. Kim. I’m here to take you to the Mirage.”
It was wise for BPs to use a different alias for each casino. Keeping your various names, birthdates, and addresses straight was crucial to a BP’s longevity. At the Mirage I was Mr. Kim. At the Las Vegas Hilton I was Mr. Loy. For Martinez and I, having both Asian and Hispanic heritage was a significant advantage in terms of assuming different identities. As our limousine drove down the Strip, the allure of Vegas was undeniable. Whether you’re a quarter slot player or a heavy hitter at the blackjack tables, everyone shares the same hope of striking it rich. Vegas can bring out the best and worst in people. Fortunately, Vegas seemed to always bring out the team’s best.
Martinez and I passed through Mirage’s indoor rainforest and made our way through the casino. Minutes later I opened the door to a spacious penthouse suite. “We’re home.” Mirage was my favorite place to stay in Vegas, largely because of its plush and sophisticated penthouse suites, which offered magnificent views of the Strip. Within the hour, three of our good friends and teammates arrived at the Mirage. Dave, Kevin and Phil were fraternity brothers from MIT. I would play with the three of them this weekend. The team normally operated in crews of three to five players. One BP played with two to four spotters. The role of a spotter is to blend into the crowd, inconspicuously count down as many tables as possible, and signal the BP when the cards are favorable for the player. When the BP arrives, the spotter passes off the running count to the BP, who takes over the “hot” shoe and bets the big money.
It was almost midnight, time for our team to get rolling. Martinez headed over to Bally’s to meet up with his spotters. I planned to split my play between the Mirage and the Las Vegas Hilton. Vince, a smooth talker who could pass for having Mediterranean or Middle Eastern descent, would be the BP at Caesar’s Palace. Ryan and Drew would be the BPs at the MGM Grand. Ryan was over six feet tall, with long blond hair and a rock star persona. Drew, one of the more senior members of the team, who had recently completed his Ph.D. in computer science, did not come off like a programming geek. Our team was led by our highly motivated BPs who loved blackjack and relished the challenge of beating the house. Each of us had our own distinct playing style and persona, we all looked and played the part of high rollers. And aside from our youth, none of us fit the stereotype of a Las Vegas card counter: young, brainy looking and
caucasian.
Before we played our first session at the Mirage, I went over all the logistics — the team signals we used to communicate, the pits we would play in, and our end-of-session meeting place. Phil listened very intently since it was his first trip as a spotter. It was critical for each crew to work as a cohesive unit, yet appear to the casino as average, individual gamblers. Dave, Kevin and Phil headed downstairs to begin spotting and soon afterward, I sat down at the bar on the casino floor and waited. I didn’t have to wait long for a hot shoe. As I approached a blackjack table, I eyed the two open betting spots. I passed in front of Dave who was standing behind the table, arms crossed. As I pulled chips out of my pocket, Dave turned to the passerby standing next to him and asked, “Do you know what the line is on the football game?” I colored down a yellow chip for 10 blacks and plunked down two bets of $3,200. The count was 11. Three rounds later, I had unexpected company.
A suit appeared from nowhere. Although I had never seen him before, I immediately knew he was bad news. I gave Dave the signal for “heat” (end-of-session) and he quickly disappeared along with Kevin and Phil. My shadow closely watched my every move and made no secret of it. A savvy BP has a sense of something about to go down, but when a sharp-looking casino suit suddenly appears to watch you play, there’s no question it’s time to take off. I played out the call-in, picked up my chips and walked away. As I returned to my suite I knew I was being watched.
The phone rang. It was Kevin calling from the hotel lobby. Whenever a BP called a session off due to heat, the spotters never came back to the room until the BP gave the OK. There was always a risk that surveillance could be watching, and if so, multiple players could get burned out by association. Given the intense heat I had just experienced, I decided we should head over to the Hilton. Just to be safe, I would take a separate cab. I counted my Mirage chips. I had lost $12,000. The weekend was off to a rocky start.
After I checked in at the Hilton I gave each member of our crew a key to the room. We wouldn’t sleep at the Hilton, but it was convenient to have a place to meet. When we hit the casino floor at 1:30 am, the playing conditions were good. There was pretty big action, lots of foot traffic and the tables weren’t overcrowded. Over the next few hours, Dave called me into three hot shoes and Kevin called me in four times. Then I noticed Phil
signaling a hot shoe. When I arrived at the table, Phil nervously mumbled something. I couldn’t make out what he said. I touched my ear but got no response. I turned to see Phil walking away at breakneck speed, stiff as a board. He might as well have been running. Knowing it was a hot shoe, I made a conservative estimate of the count based on the number of decks remaining. After I played the call-in, I gave Kevin the end-of-session signal, and made my way up to the room.
Dave, Kevin and Phil walked into the room as I tallied my chips. “How’d you do?” Dave asked. “Not bad, I won fifteen thousand.” “And Phil got his first call-in!” Kevin slapped Phil on the back. “Well, not quite.” I recounted how Phil botched the count pass-off and then ran away like Forrest Gump. Phil’s face turned red with embarrassment as Dave and Kevin laughed hysterically. For the rest of the weekend Phil was nicknamed “Forrest.”
After a short rest, we got our second wind. We played for two more hours at the Hilton and finished strong as I won another $21,000. “Forrest” not only notched his first call-in, but had three altogether. It was 6 a.m. when we cabbed it back to the Mirage. Flying in from the east coast and playing all night had taken its toll. We were wiped out. As tired as we were, our $24,000 win made it worthwhile. Before I fell asleep, I sent a trip update via my two-way pager to the other BPs. I wondered how they were doing.
I woke up at 1 p.m. when Martinez called. He had a team update and the news wasn’t good. All told, the team was down $53,000. Ryan was the big loser, down $70,000 at the MGM. In the long run we had an edge over the house but that didn’t guarantee anything in the short run. Blackjack is a very volatile game, and no one is immune to its extreme swings, not even professionals. The more hours we played, the more likely our actual win would match our expected win, but on any given trip, we could lose and lose big.
It was 5:30 p.m. by the time we were up and ready to go. A long night of blackjack awaited us, but we were fully primed. Saturday night was the best time to make our move, not only would there be more high-stakes action, but we could play nearly twice as many hours with an early start. Our first order of business was to test the waters at the Mirage. Our crew was wary as we began play in the main pit. When I was called in for the first time and bet table max, I prepared for the worst. But the
floor people reacted normally and no uninvited observers appeared. After the call-in, I breathed a sigh of relief, but as a precaution, I limited the session to an hour and a half. I didn’t want to risk overexposure, and I wanted to be out of there before the night shift came on. It was an encouraging start to the evening. I won $9,000, and I still had life at the Mirage.
When we returned to the Hilton, the playing conditions were even better than on Friday. From the first call-in, everything clicked. When conditions are ideal, and the spotters and the BP work in unison, the call-ins flow naturally. All night we operated in sync, like highly skilled point guards, delivering the ball to me at the right place and the right time. When I called end-of-session, I was surprised to see it was already midnight. Spirits were high as I stacked my chips. We all knew it was a winning session, a $34,000 winning session. Checking my pager, I saw I had received multiple messages. Martinez: +56k, Vince: +81k, Drew: +71k, Ryan: –81k. I let out an emphatic “Yes!” Combined with my trip win of $67,000, the team was up $194,000. Having been down $53,000 in the morning, the team had managed a quarter million dollar swing.
Adrenaline pumping, we jumped back into action. We rode our momentum, playing well past 5 a.m. When I finally
signaled end-of-session, our crew was exhausted. On the cab ride back, I checked my pager for updates. The team had won another $152,000, not including our recent session at Hilton, and judging from my bulging pockets, I knew our crew had won. When we returned to the Mirage, Dave helped me count my mound of Hilton chips. We had pulled in another $43,000, which raised the team’s win total to $346,000. The team’s work was paying off. Happy, but completely spent, we gave each other subdued high fives and then crashed.
I woke up in the afternoon to hear Kevin talking excitedly about Vince. It turned out that Vince’s trip updates had not been net win totals for the trip, but net win totals per session! Vince had won much more than originally believed. He had won an incredible $213,000, which brought the team’s total win to a staggering $470,000. By the time the Super Bowl kicked off, the magnitude of our win began to sink in. From our low point, we had won more than $500,000 in less than 24 hours. I invited the entire team over for a Super Bowl party and placed a massive room service order: lobster, filet mignon, caviar, Don Perignon, Cristal, the works. When we were in Vegas, the team was always business first, but our amazing reversal of fortune demanded a first-class celebration.
Vince was the toast of the party, having led the way with his $213k win. As for the rest of the BPs, Martinez won $119k, Drew won $131k, Ryan lost $103k, and I won $110k. Ryan received a lot of good-natured ribbing, but the odds were at the start of the weekend that at least one BP would lose. Our record-breaking trip was the result of a brilliant blackjack system, hours of diligent practice and remarkable teamwork. After the Super Bowl our team went out on the town for the first time and partied Vegas style. It was a long night, but a well-deserved one.
On Monday, before my return flight, I walked through airport security with $30,000 on top of my head. Thanks to our whopping win, I was personally responsible for bringing $300,000 back to Boston. Completely stuffed with cash, the only available space I had left for the last $30k was beneath my baseball cap, on top of my head. It was a fitting end to an extraordinary weekend. On the flight home, I realized our team had truly arrived.
Almost as amazing as our half million dollar win, was the fact that not one member of the team was barred from a casino. We felt unstoppable, but there was no time to gloat. We had upcoming trips to prepare for, starting with practice on Tuesday.
— One of the leaders and most successful players on the MIT Blackjack Team, Mike Aponte, along with Dave Irvine, is co-founder of
www.BlackjackInstitute.com, a website that provides blackjack strategies and training products for people of all skill levels.
|Top|
