Suckerbets

There is a spot in Guys and Dolls, distilled from vintage Damon Runyon, in which Sky Masterson tells Nathan Detroit the secret of his success:

"When I was a young man about to go out into the world, my father says to me a very valuable thing. He says to me like this: 'One of these days in your travels a guy is going to come up to you and show you a nice brand-new deck of cards on which the seal is not yet broken, and this guy is going to offer to bet you that he can make the jack of spades jump out of the deck and squirt cider in your ear. But Son, do not bet this man, for as sure as you stand there you are going to wind up with an earful of cider.'"

Now, the subject of this article is not cider-squirting jacks but sucker bets -- wagers which seem to offer an infallible win but which, once accepted, result in an almost infallible loss. Or, looking at them from the unscrupulous point of view of the sharpie or operator, they are bets that are as close to sure things as you can come.

If you'll just step a little closer and put your money on the counter, we'll give you a demonstration of just what we mean.

Phone-Book Hook. The victim is asked to open a telephone book to any page and mark off 20 consecutive listings. The operator (and we're not talking about the lady who works for the phone company) now offers to bet him that within those 20 listings there are two phone numbers in which the last two digits are the same (such as 3764 and 9364).

The prospective sucker cogitates a moment. He feels the keen clicking of his coldly efficient brain -- a pleasant if infrequent sensation. He accepts the proposition with confidence, for he has figured that there are 100 possible combinations of those last two digits and, hence, the odds are 5--1 against the operator. The sucker is right on the first count, lamentably wrong on the second. Actually, the odds are 7--1 in favor of the operator. To understand why, you must forget that the odds of matching any particular two-digit number with another are an unpromising 99/100 against and remember that the operator is allowed to match any two-digit number with any other of the 19 on the list. The odds of his failing to do so are figured by multiplying all of his chances of missing. (Since there are 100 possible combinations of two-digit numbers, the odds of failing to match the first number with the second are, as we've said, 99/100 or .99, and the odds of failing to match the third number with either of the first two are .98. Thus, the odds of failing to match any of the 20 numbers are calculated by multiplying .99 x .98 x .97 etc., all the way down to x .80.) Even if there were only 12 numbers on the list, the odds would multiply out to about .5 or 50--50. But that wouldn't be fair to the operator, would it? So he extends the list to 20 numbers to make the odds 1--7 against missing or, more positively, 7--1 in his favor.

Reverse Phone-Book Hook. After the sucker has lost several times running on the Phone-Book Hook, he is ripe for a reverse twist. "All right," says the operator, "just to prove I'm a sport, I'll give you a chance to win your money back.Open the phone book anywhere and circle the last two digits of any number. Now, count down 50 numbers and I will bet you that the same combination does not appear in the last two digits of any of those 50 numbers."

When the sucker, stung several times on the 20-number bet, hesitates, the operator says grandly, "Why man, that's a wonderful bet. I'm giving you more than twice as many numbers to work with than you gave me." And so he is. But the game has changed.

Before, the operator could match any two sets of numbers, but the sucker now must match a particular number. The odds (.99 to the 50th power) are 3--2 that he won't.

Unhappy Birthday. This bet makes use of the same principle as the Phone-Book Hook and is always sure to attract a willing victim. At any gathering of 30 persons or more (but not too many more) the operator remarks casually, "I'll bet there are two people here with the same birthday."

Up jumps the pigeon, ready for the challenge. After all, he reasons, there are 365 possible birthdays -- not counting leap year. Yet, by the same process of multiplying the chances of missing (364/365 x 363/365 x 362/365, etc.) the odds are seven out of ten that a pair of birthdays will be found among the first 30 persons. In a group of 50 the probability is a gratifying 40--1 in favor of the operator. So, in this large a group, the operator magnanimously offers 2--1 odds!

Those who doubt that the birthday bet works are invited to examine the natal and expiration dates of the United States' 35 Presidents -- a typical random sample. Not only were two (Polk and Harding) born on November 2nd, but, of the 31 who have died, Taft and Fill-more passed away on March 8th, while three others (John Adams, Jefferson and Monroe) all died on July 4th. Similar verification can be made by picking 50 names from Who's Who or any other source that lists birth dates.

Two-Deck Dodge. The smart operator knows that it is wise, occasionally, to let the sucker think that he is setting the terms of the bet. For instance, the operator places two shuffled decks of cards face down in front of a doubting dupe. "I bet you $10, even money, that if you go through both decks simultaneously, you won't turn up the same card in both decks on the same turn," says the operator.

"You must take me for an awful sucker," says the sucker, stepping into the trap.

"Not at all," says the operator, "I'm just trying to liven up the evening. Tell you what -- I'll bet you do turn up the same card at the same time."

Having refused the first bet, the sucker cannot very well refuse the second. Poor fellow. The odds are about 2--1 that he will hit the same card in both decks. True, the odds of matching cards on any single turn are 1/52, but if you multiply the total chances of missing (51/52 x 51/52, 52 times) you come up with a fraction of about 1/3, which means you will miss a hit only once in three trips through the decks.

License-Tag Tag. On the pretext of relieving the monotony of a long auto journey, the ever-ready operator can also relieve a fellow-traveling sucker of his bank roll.

"I bet you," he says, "that one of the next ten cars that pass will have a double digit (33, 77, etc.) as the last two numbers of its license plate."

It sounds reasonable at even money, but actually the chance of making good is about 2--1 in favor of the operator. After all, one car in every ten has a double digit at the end of its license plate (as a fast count from 101 through 200 will prove) and the operator is getting a full 10 chances -- not the five chances that would make it a 50--50 bet. To explain this another way, if you toss a coin your chance is one in two of getting a head. Would you, at even money, give someone two chances to toss a head? If you would, please get in touch with us and we will while away the hours flipping coins -- at high stakes.

Con-Man's Delight. Back to the old, reliable card deck we go for one of the sweetest of all sucker bets. The operator instructs his mark to shuffle the deck and deal out three piles of three cards each, followed by a pile of four cards.

"My friend," he says, "I will make four separate wagers on these four piles of cards. I will bet that the first two piles of three cards each contain at least two cards in the same suit; that the third three-card pile contains a picture card; and, to top it off, I will give you odds of no less than five to one that the four-card pile also contains at least two cards of the same suit."

For some strange reason, the sucker is apt to feel that his odds of winning one of these four bets is better than the others. In a sense he is right. Yet his odds of winning any of the bets are bad.

The odds are about 3--2 that three cards dealt at random will contain two of the same suit; noticeably better than even money that they will contain a picture card; and 9--1 in favor of the operator that two cards of the same suit will show up in the four-card pile.

The exquisite beauty of this four-part bet is that it contains the basic element of the old shell game -- enticement. After losing a few times on one part of the deal, the sucker will insist on trying the others, searching for that one sure thing which he feels is hidden in some part of the bet. Only after he tries all four bets at once -- and loses all four -- will he give up.

Mixed Shuffle. Here the operator adds sleight of hand to sleight of conscience. He divides a deck of cards exactly in half and asks his victim to turn one of the piles face up and shuffle the two halves together, creating a horrible mess of cards, half facing one way, half the other. Next, the operator asks him to count off 26 cards and leave the remaining 26 flat on the table.

"I will bet you even money," says the operator, "that you cannot, without looking, rearrange the remaining half-deck so that it contains the same number of up cards as the first half of the deck."

When the prospective pigeon asserts that it doesn't sound like a very good deal, the operator graciously offers to take the bet himself. Thereupon, he places the remaining half-deck under the table and, with a great show of concentration, pretends to be rearranging the pile. Actually, all he does is turn the pile over.

It seems mysterious, but his half-deck will now be found to contain exactly the same number of up cards as the other half.

Here's why: If the first half-deck contains ten up cards, the other half-deck must contain the remaining 16 up cards since the whole deck contains a total of 26 up cards. Naturally, the other ten cards in the second half-deck must be down cards. With one turn those ten down cards become up cards and both half-decks contain an equal number of up cards.

Heads You Lose. Producing eight coins, the operator asks his victim how many heads are likely to turn up if he flips each coin. The sucker, aware that the odds of getting a head on each toss are 50--50, will undoubtedly say four. "Fine," says the operator, "I will give you two-to-one odds that you don't get four heads."

If the sucker agrees to make this bet a few times, the operator is reasonably sure of a nice profit. True, four heads will turn up much more often than any other number of heads. But the total of other combinations will occur more often. The odds are 8 -- 3 in favor of the operator.

The Impossible. A true sucker throws caution to the winds when offered a large enough return on his "investment." But the odds must never be too high or he will become suspicious. Thus, the smart operator offers only 6 -- 1 odds on the little puzzle illustrated below.

"All you have to do," says the operator, "is draw one continuous line that will cross each line in the diagram once and only once." Then, just to make the sucker feel he has a chance, the operator adds, "But you must do this within a three-minute time limit."

They said it couldn't be done. And it can't.

Last Match. Two years ago, after acquiring star stature in the movie Last Year at Marienbad, a nimble match game called Nim suddenly became saloondom's second most popular sport. But to the operator, there is nothing sporting about Nim; he will always win if he has memorized the game's secret combinations.

After constructing a four-row pyramid of 16 matches (7-5-3-1), the thirsty operator explains the "game" to his mark, offering to wager a drink on its outcome: "We simply take turns removing matches and the man who must take the last match loses. You can take as many matches on each turn as you want -- from one to a whole row -- as long as you pick from one row only."

It makes no difference which player goes first, as long as the operator picks up enough matches to leave his opponent with one of the following combinations: In four rows -- 7-5-3-1 (which is the starting setup), 7-4-2-1, 6-5-2-1, 6-4-3-1, 5-5-1-1, 4-4-1-1, 3-3-1-1, 2-2-1-1; in three rows -- 6-5-3, 6-4-2, 5-4-1, 3-2-1, 1-1-1; in two rows -- 5-5, 4-4, 3-3, 2-2; and, of course, in one row -- 1.

If memorizing all 18 combinations seems to be too much trouble for a free drink supply, a lazier operator contents himself with a simpler, if less certain, system: he will usually win if he reduces the pyramid either to an even number of rows containing an equal number of matches (as 4-4 or 4-4-1-1) or an odd number of rows containing an unequal number of matches (as 6-5-3 or 5-4-1).

The Missing Year. The passage and marking of time is always good material for sucker bets because every sucker is (concluded on page 162)Suckerbets(continued from page 104) quite certain he can count just as well as the next fellow. Count he can, but can he reckon?

"How many years are there between January 1, 1850 and January 1, 1950?"asks the operator.

The sucker, after much thought and possibly a bit of finger arithmetic, finally answers quite correctly, "100 years."

"And how many years are there between 50 B.C. and 50 A.D.?"

"Why, 100, of course," says the sucker.

"Wrong," replies the operator.

Actually the sucker should have said 99 years because of the absence of the year 0. This can be proved to a doubting mark by having him count on his fingers the years from 1895 to 1905 and then the years from 5 B.C. to 5 A.D.

Time Will Tell. "How many times a day does the minute hand of a clock come even with the hour hand?" asks the operator.

The sucker will probably say 24 times, reasoning that the minute hand crosses the hour hand once every hour. But he should have said 22 because the hands only cross once every 655/11 minutes. (The hour hand is slow, but it keeps plodding along.)

Dire States. Many sucker bets find their takers among those who think they know something when, in fact, they don't. For instance, the operator bets his mark that he can't list all 50 states in five minutes -- abbreviations will do. Unless the sucker has a photographic memory, he'll lose.

Ineligible Receiver. Would-be sports experts are among the best of all potential marks for not-so-sporting wagers. The operator asks how many players are eligible pass receivers when a college football team lines up in a T-formation offense. The sucker is sure to say six -- two ends and four backs. After making a bet that the sucker is wrong, the operator cites NCAA Rule 7, Section 3, Article 3 (b), which makes any player in position to take a direct handoff from the center ineligible as a pass receiver. This rules out the T-formation quarterback.

Foul Ball. At a baseball game the count is three-and-two. "Bet he fouls on the next pitch," mutters the operator.

"Even money?" says a nearby sucker, knowing full well that the batter might just as easily strike, walk, hit fair, or even get hit by a pitched ball.

"Even money," says the operator, knowing even better (having read this article on sucker bets) that the correct odds are 6 -- 5 that a batter will foul on a three-two count.

There are many more sucker bets, of course. Probably as many as there are suckers. But let there be no misunderstanding about our motives which, as always, are high-minded ones indeed. Knowing that none of our readers would ever be so unsporting as to bet on a sure thing, we have offered this collection of sucker bets not as sure-fire tips for enhancing one's income, but as a warning against taking such deceitful wagers.

If, however, you happen to meet the kind of sucker who will take these bets and you find yourself wrestling with your gentlemanly conscience, remember this: Any man who will accept a sucker bet does so because he thinks he is taking advantage of you. He thinks -- greedy fellow that he is -- that he is betting on a sure thing.

Now, we ask you, in all fairness, are you expected to waste any sympathy on the sort of lowlife that would bet on a sure thing? You are not!

In fact, it is your duty, your obligation to give him the punishment he deserves -- empty pockets and an earful of cider!