The Taste For Victory

Individual confrontation is the greatest… Boxing, Blackjack, Darts, Tennis… Basketball or golf with only two competitors… The adrenaline rush when you stare into the eyes of your adversary, knowing the choice is either own or be owned, is incomparable… It’s why James Jordan, father of Michael Jordan, was absolutely correct, when he spoke about his wagering… “Michael doesn’t have a gambling problem,” James Jordan said. “He has a competitiveness problem.”

When I arrived at Sugar Bar’s Casino Night, I was determined to cover the entire event (as we always cover entire events)… Although, I knew as soon as I sat down at a blackjack table, I wouldn’t cover anything else… I already hear your thoughts… This column is about me… Well… yeah, it’s mostly about me…

Before I discuss my evening (which I promise, I will hold under one thousand words… just kidding), I must compliment the event… Once again, Sugar Bar and Park Street Patio showcased why they are one the most unique venues in this city… The evening was spectacular… The combination of the green felt tables, chips, and tuxedo clad croupiers, in conjunction with Sugar’s customary crush of bunnies produced a speakeasy allure, which was equal parts back alley enclave and Las Vegas strip.

The event was not flawless… Some of the dealers were slow, bordering on novices and the pulsating beat of both venue’s music, made hearing difficult and the tables not immune to shaking… Still, the croupiers, the player’s reactions, the bunnies perching over shoulders of boys that were on streaks (not realizing apparently that the money they were winning as not real)… The evening had all the glam of a casino and all the mischief of a fraternity social…

Now, as you requested (sarcasm), back to me… As soon as I swapped out my first faux cash (I had $6,000 to play with…) for the shimmering black circles, engraved with “100,” the bunnies became nonexistent… Carrie Underwood could have walked in at that moment, walked up to me, and whispered “your place or mine” in my ear and I wouldn’t have budged… It was me, my stack of chips, the cards, and that dealer… That son of a, piece of, dealt me a ten, when I had a nine and a three dealer…

After an initial two victories and a set of losing hands (at least a half dozen, where I could not buy a card)… I located the zone… I started frolicking in the zone… Every card came up as desired and the bets increased… Steady stacks of 250 that turned into 500, 500 that turned 1,000, 750 that turned into 1,500… I was blazing… When, by 1:30, they announced they were concluding (concluding? What? I could do this all evening…), I had turned my $6,000 into $10,000… And my evening into a future V.I.P. evening at Park Street Patio…

As I walked the dance floor gauntlet from Park Street through Sugar Bar to reconnect with promotions superstars Avi and Molly, my mind wasn’t on the cards… As I shook hands with Avi, my mind didn’t think about the hands I won… As I hugged the perfectly exquisite Molly, my mind didn’t think about the hands I lost… But, as I departed Sugar Bar and entered the cold night air, I wanted to be back at that table…