Amarillo Slim Preston - Amarillo Slim in a World Full of Fat People: The Memoirs of the Greatest Gambler Who Ever Lived

This book is dedicated to my seven grandbabies: Heather Rebecca, Hayley Elizabeth, Hannah Lea, Austin Ackerly, Molly Allison, Caroline Abby, and Jack Andrew

He said, Son, Ive made a life out of readin peoples faces, And knowin what their cards were by the way they held their eyes.

KENNY ROGERS, The Gambler

Contents

Here I am with my oldest granddaughter, Heather, on a horse named Rabbit. This was taken in the lobby of the Sahara Tahoe before I backed Rabbit up and told the casino manager that Id show him how that craps table got its name. (Courtesy of the author)

If theres anything worth arguing about, Ill either bet on it or shut up. And since its not very becoming for a cowboy to be arguing, Ive made a few wagers in my day. But, in my humble opinion, Im no ordinary hustler. You see, neighbor, I never go looking for a sucker; I look for a champion and make a sucker out of him.

I knew that I wasnt going to get an amateur to play me in Ping-Pong for money, but Bobby Riggs, the 1939 Wimbledon championnow, that was a man who might be interested in making a wager. Shoot, if a man doesnt think hes hustling you, then you got no shot of him making you a bet.

Not only was Bobby one of the best tennis players going, but he was also a personality, a celebrity who was recognized the world over. He was so famous that he had been asked by Uncle Sam to give tennis exhibitions for the troops during World War II and used it as an opportunity to hustle. At Pearl Harbor in 1944, some unfortunate stranger, who had no idea Bobby was a champion, challenged him to a high-stakes tennis match. Without hardly breaking a sweat, Bobby walked away with all the mans money, his car, and his quaint little bungalow in Honolulu. As the story goes, Bobby felt bad for the cat, blew his own cover, and gave everything backexcept $500 that he said was for advice. Now, thats pretty expensive advice, but I reckon it could have been a lot worse for Bobbys unsuspecting victim.

Bobby was also known for his tennis proposition bets. To entice suckers who wanted a shot at him but knew they couldnt beat him even up, hed come up with the craziest of things. Hed play with a poodle leashed to each leg, or hed play in a raincoat and galoshes while carrying an open umbrella in his left hand. Im telling you, this boy had some imagination, and he didnt slow down one bit as he got older.

In May 1973, at age fifty-five, Bobby took on the worlds number-one womens player, Margaret Court, in a challenge match at the San Diego Country Estates that was billed as The Battle of the Sexes. Somehow that old hustler came up with enough tricks to beat her. Well, Billie Jean King, the number-two player in the world, whom Bobby had called the real sex leader of the revolutionary pack, didnt like Bobby running his mouth about the superiority of the male race and came up with a challenge of her own. In front of more than thirty thousand spectators at the Astrodome in Houston, in September 1973, the twenty-nine-year-old woman beat the fifty-five-year-old man in straight sets. And it made news all over the world.

Because it was an event where the outcome was in doubtin Texas no lessyou can be sure that I was there, and its likely I made a little wager as well. I had met Bobby briefly the year before in Las Vegas at the World Series of Poker, and when I talked to him after the tennis match, Bobby told me I was welcome anytime at the Bel Air Country Club in his hometown of Los Angeles.

The poker was good in southern California back thenstill is todayand on my next trip out there, I paid old Bobby a visit at his fancy country club. It didnt take long for him to try to hustle me, and since I wasnt a tennis player, he tried to set me up to play Ping-Pong. We both knew he was the much better player, but after that incident in Pearl Harbor, Bobby had wised up and learned never to give anything away. In other words, he wasnt looking to make no five hundred dollars for advice; he was looking to bust my skinny country ass.

Like youd think two gamblers would do, we went back and forth trying to find a fair bet, but Bobby kept refusing to give me a spot. So finally I told him that Id play him straight up with one stipulation: that I got to choose the paddles.

We both use the same paddle? Bobby asked.

Yessir.

So when you show up with two of the same paddles, can I get my choice of which one of them?

Yessir, so long as I can bring the paddles.

Bobby thought I was pulling a schoolboys scamthat it was a weight thing or that one of the paddles was hollow or something. But once I told him that he could choose whichever of the two paddles he wanted to use, he couldnt post his money fast enough.

We bet $10,000 and agreed to play at two oclock the next day. Before I left, just to avoid any misunderstanding, I confirmed the bet: We were to play a game of Ping-Pong to twenty-one, each using the paddles of my choosing.

I showed up the next day at the Bel Air Country Club ready to wage battle. When Bobby asked to see the paddles, I reached into my satchel and handed him two skillets, the exact same weight and size, and told him he could use either one. Now, Bobby was about as coordinated an athlete that ever lived, but he was swinging that skillet like a fry cook on speed. It wasnt until I had him buried that he started to get the hang of that skillet, but it wasnt soon enough. I won the game 218, and it could have been much worse.

Once again I proved that you can make a living beating a champion just by using your head instead of your ass. The easiest person in the world to hustle is a hustler, and Bobby had taken the bait like a country hog after town slop. You see, I had been practicing with that skillet since I saw him in Houston, and after I collected the money, I shook Bobbys hand and we both had a good laugh.

Naturally, word spread like wildfire about old Slim fleecing Bobby Riggs, and seven or eight months after it happened, I was in Knoxville, Tennessee, at an American Legion club, to play some poker. There were quite a few wise guys there, including a man named Lefty, who said to me, Slim, that was a pretty good thing you did, playing Ping-Pong with Riggs.

So we bantered back and forth about it, and finally Lefty said to me, Ive got a buddy that can beat you at Ping-Pong.

You havent got a buddy who can beat me if I choose the paddles, I said.

Now, this guy knew how I beat Bobby. The whole world knew how I beat Bobby. And I knew he knew it, so I couldnt just set up a match to play with skillets, now, could I?

So I told Lefty, Well, Im busy here playing poker, and then I have to go back to Amarillo. But in the back of my mind, I knew I had to find a way to relieve old Lefty of his money. I left for Amarillo the next day, wondering how in the hell I was going to find a way to beat Leftys pal at Ping-Pong. About a month later, I was doing a promotion for a charity in Amarillo with my old buddy Wendell Cain at the television station where he worked, and we started playing Ping-Pong between takes.

Since I dont drink alcohol, I usually drink coffee when I want something hot and Coca-Cola when I want something cold. That day I was drinking a Coca-Cola from one of them six-ounce glass bottles while we were playing, and just as I finished it, I reached down with the bottle and hit the Ping-Pong ball and it went plumb over the net.

Holy cow, Slim! Wendell said, Do that again.

I started trying, but I couldnt. You see, theres an area of only about a sixteenth of an inch on a bottle that will make the ball go over the net. So I practiced and practiced until I could hit the ball over the net every time, and right then I knew that Coke bottle was going to make me a boatload of money.