Let's play a little racketball

Those five words didn’t mean anything to anyone else.
“Let’s play a little racquetball.”
Harmless. Casual. Forgettable.

But inside a Las Vegas casino in the 1980s—where every move was watched every dealer was supposed to be clean—those five words were a signal.
A time.
A table.
A play.
I appeared to be just another blackjack dealer. Pressed shirt. Clean hands. Dealing the game the way the house taught me.
But when my agent was at the table, I was something else. I was a hardcore mechanic. 

I didn’t like taking chances. That’s the truth. Never did.
Which is why, if I was going to take one, it had to be controlled… calculated… uncatchable.

Because in a casino, you don’t beat the system by being bold.
You beat it by making it look like nothing’s happening. Just another dealer going through the motions.

The code was simple.
“Racquetball” meant blackjack.
The number we agreed on—was the table.
The time… that was when the play would go down.


I’d make the call from a payphone during my first break. No cell phones back then. No digital trail. Just coins, a number, and five words that sounded like small talk.
On the other end was my agent.
My partner.


See, the real trick wasn’t just cheating the game.
It was also manipulating the system the casinos designed.
Most dealers would have their agent walk up to their table. Too obvious. Too risky. That’s how you get noticed.
I flipped it.
I let the casino send me to my agent.


Dealers rotated games all night—three tables, fixed schedule. Once I knew where I started, I could map out exactly where I’d be hours later.
So instead of my agent finding me…
I found him.

At 9:45pm, he’d already be sitting at the table. Playing against a random dealer, a square. Talking just enough to be seen. Letting the floor boss clock his face, his bets, his rhythm.
Nothing unusual.
Just another player.

At 10:00pm… I’d arrive.
Right on cue. By the book. Called in like any other dealer, coming to the game as if it were random.
But it wasn’t random.
Not even close.
Because by the time I picked up that deck…
The play had already begun.
And from that moment on--
I wasn't just dealing cards.
I was manipulating the game and no one saw a thing except my agent.
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