A sound piece of advice I picked up from a very wise man when I was kid was: “Don’t keep playing the same game. You’ll soon run out of luck.”
Now I’ve tried to keep that little pearl of wisdom in the back of my mind whenever I’ve felt the urge to go a little crazy and overstay my welcome with Lady Luck. So it was with a heavy heart and a wallet not as heavy as I feel it could have been that I switched from blackjack to roulette just after Christmas.
Roulette is a completely different animal to blackjack, but it’s one that deserves to be loved all the same. There’s a little bit more luck to roulette. Not quite as strategic as the cards. You can’t control your own destiny as much, nor run from it. That little ball makes all the rules; it’s no card you can decide to dispose.
The game I play, Low Stake Roulette, is as simple as they come. I don’t ask too many questions of the Gods when I place my bets. In return I get no answers. That’s how I like it with the games I don’t know. That’s how they like it with me.
In a strange little way it feels like cheating on a loved one when I switch games. The wife notices a change in me – as if I’m coming home late all of a sudden or smelling of perfume. It’s strange how my demeanour changes, and I hope my luck doesn’t follow.
I reckon I keep spinning the wheel for two weeks. Say hello to the New Year as a roulette player, then make my excuses and leave. I’d like to return home to Mother Blackjack, but it depends on how my luck runs. That’s always the way.
