Doug Blough

If you or someone you love has a gambling problem, call ...” That's the typical insincere disclaimer in small print on most online gambling sites. I sense much of my family believes a loved one has such a problem. I'm not so sure about that.

Sure, I'll admit to a 50-year addiction entailing many ups and downs, so it's a toss-up whether it's all been a problem. Epic wins tend to stand out more in a gambler's memory when assessing success. My addiction began at about 20 when invited by Sam Rullo to join their weekly family/friends poker game. They had to explain the game as we went — a lesson that cost me over $100, but I was hooked and became a regular.

A highlight I remember was drinking at LaPorta's bar just before a game and ordering a shot of 4 Queens Whiskey on my way out. I still hadn't won at poker, but this particular night there was a big pot and I had two queens in the hole. When I drew two more queens on the flop, I had my unbeatable four queens, just like the whiskey I had felt compelled to drink.

I left with full pockets and it wasn't long before every weekend I was playing in a backroom game at the Polish Falcons Club. It didn't matter what kind of whiskey I ordered, I seldom won against these older, skilled players. Von Shroyer nicknamed me “Easy Money,” so I guess that sums up my skill. When I'd lose my entire meager paycheck some Friday nights, Mom sensed someone she loved had a gambling problem.

Sports betting, my true passion was born when I placed my first football bet with Spike the bookie at the Hollsopple, Pennsylvania, VFW. That Super Bowl was between the Cowboys and Broncos, and after my brother-in-law Skip explained how to approach a bookie, I walked over to Spike and placed my first bet on the Broncos. I lost my $55, but couldn't wait to place my next bet. Before I left to come back to Cody, I made sure to ingratiate myself to Spike and his partner Ernie to secure their business phone number to continue placing bets long distance.

Back in Cody in my little party apartment, I was soon betting nearly every day on whatever sport was available. I had even found a second bookie out of Billings so I could shop for the best pointspreads. I remember my first football bet with that Billings bookie was Northwestern plus 17 points and they lost 63-0. He thought he'd landed a real fish.

That reminds me of the hapless gambler who was losing almost every single bet on football and basketball. He was such a guaranteed income for his bookie, the bookie actually called HIM to say “All we have going tonight is a hockey game. Interested?” to which the loser gambler said, “Are you kidding? What do I know about hockey?"

That's how I felt sometimes, especially one winter when I owed my Pennsylvania bookies $1,000. My friend Scotty Pulse said “The only thing I see for you to do is bet it all on one game.” After I secured his promise for a loan if I lost, I bet $700 on the Houston Oilers led by the great Earl Campbell. It was looking good late when Campbell neared the goal line ... and FUMBLED. Now I owed Spike and Ernie $1,770, which I paid off, but soon after launched into a huge winning streak. It's those comebacks that propels one to assure loved ones there's no gambling problem.

And then I discovered Vegas. I'm about 23 and had saved $3,500 from a long, hot summer of roofing. I secured a plane ticket for five days in which I gambled furiously. On my last day I had a mere $150 left, so called the airline to postpone my departure by a day. I drank and gambled that entire day with no sleep and that next morning, I actually threw up walking to the airplane. Once on board, I didn't even have enough to pay for a badly needed beer.

The following Monday with my boss/brother Jess driving us to an out-of-town roofing job, it was totally silent for about 10 miles, when he finally asked with disgust, “So how much DID you lose down there?” I answered defiantly, “Well, counting the motel room I skipped out on, $3,600.” It was too much for the teetotaler church leader and he blurted out, “Ah geez; it's your whole lifestyle that depresses me.” I said, “Well, yours depresses me, but you don't hear ME complaining.” My ultra-responsible brother was sure a loved one had a gambling problem.

I was rearing to return to Sin City though, and invested heavily on several more trips. In between, I can remember flipping a coin for $100 a pop with a guy at the old Tic Toc Lounge one Sunday afternoon, losing two out of three. In retrospect, I think someone I love has a gambling problem.