BARRY DICKERSON: I saw how intense Scobe was when he rolled. How he concentrated. He would just stare at the dice and stare down the table. He rolled the same way each and every time. He was like a machine.
I felt comfortable. I felt that when I established a second point, if I could roll a few numbers before it, then hit the second point, I would have acquitted myself well.
On the next come out roll, I placed a hard six for the dealers. Once at Binion’s, I had a remarkable roll that consisted of nine hardways in succession—six of them the hard six.
Again my point was five.
I rolled a few numbers and then: "Five! Five! Winner five!"
"Okay," I thought to myself, "you’ve been hitting numbers—no garbage."
It was my third come out roll.
My mind was focused. I could clearly see my spot on the back wall. I thought, "I’m happy the dealers are returning the dice so quickly."
Now, the dream began.
The next point was again a five.
I rolled some numbers, then hit it yet again. I had been playing three numbers with full odds. I decided on the next point to go up on the come and eventually get on all the numbers. I wouldn’t take full odds; instead, I’d reduce the odds so I wasn’t risking much more on six numbers than I had been on three numbers. I made this decision— in some corner of my mind—when I had rolled three nines in a row.
I don’t remember what my next point was—in fact, from this moment, I have only a vague awareness of the multitude of numbers I rolled—but I remember it was during the pursuit for this point that a classic pattern began.
BILL BURTON: After he established his next point, the numbers started to come one after another. Suddenly a guy came up and asked me how the table was. I told him it had been cold, hoping he wouldn't try to squeeze in. No luck. He pushed his way in between Frank and me, bumping Frank as he did, and almost burning me with his cigarette. "Oh, no!" I thought when he bumped Frank. "He’s going to break his rhythm."
The rudest kind of behavior at a craps table is to push your way in next to a shooter who is having a good roll. It is especially rude to physically touch the shooter.
Well, this guy not only pushed me, he started to talk to me. I turned from him, ignored him, but I could feel that I was no longer in that dreamlike state. I called my odds off. Then I tried to concentrate.
"Look at your spot," I said to myself. "Set the dice, get your rhythm back."
A.P.: At this point, Scobe had been rolling for about 15 minutes or so. I was watching out of the corner of my eye. Then Rick came back from watching the light show and asked, "He’s still rolling?" Marcy had gone to talk to her husband but when she came back she, too, asked, "Is he still rolling?"
BILL BURTON: I saw him tell the dealers to take his odds bets off. At this point, I held my breath. I had visions of the seven. The next few rolls were garbage but then he seemed to get back in the groove with a few numbers. He told the dealers to start his odds working again and he immediately made his point. The players cheered.
I was in an altered state of consciousness. It was me, the dice, my spot and nothing else. I couldn’t tell you if people were cheering when numbers were rolled or the points were hit. To me, the world was silent. I can liken my consciousness to a movie where the camera makes everything fuzzy except a single object. For me, the dice and my spot were crystal clear, the world at large was fuzzy. But I do recall that my numbers came in bunches—two or three fours, then tens in a row, then I’d hit my point, then several sixes, a few eights. Bam! Bam! Back to back—nine, nine, nine, six, six, ten, ten, ten, "Five! Winner Five!"
Again I was cognizant that the dealers were getting me the dice quickly. In fact they were getting them to me with the three-spots showing!
MARCY GROCHOWSKI: I had never witnessed a good roll like this and I wanted to walk over to see how much money everyone was making. But when I started to move to the table, A.P. grabbed my arm and told me not to. "If he sees you, even out of the corner of his eye, you know what will happen." So I stayed put. But the looks on the faces of the people at that table were something to see, even though I couldn’t see exactly how much money everyone was making.
RICK BARTON: I could see the racks filling up with chips, then the colors of the chips changing to higher denominations. It was like a beautiful butterfly. Had I played the 5-Count, I would have been at the table when Frank had his roll. It was a lesson to me in patience. Gambling lessons come hard!
A.P.: Somewhere in the middle of the roll, maybe the 25 minute mark, I commented to John Robison, "I wonder when they’re going to bring the chip trays over to interrupt his rhythm?"
BILL BURTON: There were plenty of chips and a refill wasn't necessary. They came with a couple of racks and dropped them down in the middle of the layout as Frank was shooting, trying to break his rhythm. Frank has written about this in his books, but this was the first time I had actually witnessed it in person. This must not have bothered Frank. He kept rolling numbers and finally made his point yet again.
I noticed the chip trays, but I also noticed that the dealers pushed them over to the boxman. I was betting for the dealers, as were most of the other players at the table. They were making money and didn’t want to see the roll end either. The only glance I got at the pit boss—a bald, red-faced man—showed him to be frowning and concerned. But in my dreamlike state, he seemed far, far away, in some other dimension.
I continued to roll. I had no idea for how long. I also have no idea how many points I made or how many numbers I rolled. I do know that at times I felt a giddiness well up inside me. I wanted to laugh! I was joyous in one part of my being, steady and workmanlike in another part. Even as I rolled, I had a split consciousness—a part of me was watching another part of me roll them bones.
I sevened out when one die glanced a chip and rolled on the one instead of the two—the other die was a six.
There was a pause....then I clapped.
I don’t recall if anyone else clapped. I wasn’t clapping for myself. I was clapping in thanks for answered prayers. It then hit me that I just had a phenomenal roll, the best of my life—maybe six garbage numbers the whole time, mostly when that guy pushed me. I had been in a zone—a rolling zone—and the subjective experience felt as if there was nothing random about it.
I looked down at my chip rack. All four rows were filled to capacity.
I turned to find A.P. I didn’t know if she had been watching. Then I saw her and she was clapping, and I realized that Rick and John Robison and Marcy were also clapping. I was out of the dream and into reality. I could hear the background noise of the casino.
After we cashed in our stacks of chips at the cage, Barry came over to me. "I just gotta give you a big hug. I am in hog heaven!" And he hugged me. Pete shook my hand. Bill Burton bowed and said, "I believe! I believe!" Rick slapped my back: "I witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime event!"
On the way back to the Golden Nugget, I asked John Robison how long the roll lasted. "A minimum of 45 minutes. Maybe closer to an hour."
"All numbers, too," I said to no one in particular.
BILL BURTON: As we walked across the street to the Golden Nugget, I thought "David has slain Goliath."
A.P.: Luck is timing, and Scobe had timed his greatest roll perfectly. Tonight, in front of so many witnesses, he had come through like no one could come through. And everything happened at that craps table exactly as he has written about it over the years—the guy jostling in, the casino bringing in the chip trays, the efficacy of the 5-Count, and an epic roll to boot! Everything happened as if Scobe had written it for a movie script.
The next night, at the big Golden Nugget reception, a young lady said to me, "Everyone’s talking about your great roll last night. My husband and I want you to roll for us tonight."
"I’m never playing craps again!" I laughed.
JOHN ROBISON: The news spread through downtown Las Vegas faster than food poisoning at a 99-cent buffet. The buzz along Fremont Street was: "Where were you when Frank Scoblete had his monster roll at Binion's?" Whenever something exciting happens somewhere, I'm usually at the point farthest from it. But this time I had a front row seat! Here’s what I saw: Frank rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled.
Frank Scoblete has written 13 best-selling books, three videos, and three audio cassettes on casino gaming. He also has his own magazine, The New Chance and Circumstance, and website www.frankscoblete.com or www.rgtgaming.com. For a free brochure call: 1-800-944-0406 or write: Paone Press, Box 610, Lynbrook, NY 11563.
