Yesterday morning I arrived at the craps table at 6 AM. There was one shooter at the left top. He had a few thousand in chips in his rack. But, he was from the dark side. Three times I got the dice and stunk. I knew he was in my head. I spent 20 minutes or so passing the dice. He kept sevening out and making a lot of money. They even changed the dice with a new stick. I believed I was far better then him, so I thought like Conor. I stopped passing and took control. First a 17 with three points. That hurt him. Then a 36. That killed him. Most of his money was gone and then he was too.

Last night, I went to the table. I knew I was tired, but I thought a few rolls would not hurt. I looked at to my top right and here he was. He put 50 on the Don’t Pass. I rolled an opening 7. He put 50 more and I rolled a yo. He put 50 more and I rolled another 7. I established a point and rolled ten numbers before sevening out. I felt like Rodney Dangerfield. I don’t get no respect (sic). But, I was happy.

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