by David Purdum, ESPN
LAS VEGAS — This is not your typical Friday night on the corner of Tropicana Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard.
The Professional Bull Riders World Championships are in town, drawing record crowds. Instead of the classic tones of Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett, country music blares in front of the New York-New York hotel and casino on The Strip. Vests and button-down, long-sleeve shirts, tucked into tight-fitting jeans with showcase belts, are en vogue. Canned beer and cowboy hats are everywhere, as PBR fans mill around outside T-Mobile Arena ahead of the quarterfinal round.
Little do they know that an imposter is on his way: a 44-year-old professional gambler who is in disguise and on a mission to beat the town’s bookmakers. But the gig is almost up: The longtime wise-guy hustle he’s trying to pull off tonight is on its last leg, and a staple of American sports betting could be on its way out.
Just before 7 p.m., a man pulls up in front of New York-New York in a red Ford with South Dakota plates. It’s his buddy’s car, he says. We’ll call him Cowboy Erik. Tan and stocky with the broad shoulders of a competitive tennis player, he has a short, graying beard and hair to match. He sounds like a vulgar sports-talk radio host from the East Coast. But he isn’t.
His outfit for the night looks familiar: vest, button-down, long-sleeve shirt and jeans, with a cowboy hat in the back seat. He’s hoping to fool the sportsbooks into thinking he’s a naïve, happy-go-lucky tourist in town for a rootin’-tootin’ good time.
However, given his untucked shirt and tennis shoes, it’s kind of a poor disguise. Ten years ago, he went all-out: big belt buckle, cowboy boots and his best Wyoming accent. It’s not worth it anymore.
Indeed, for this pretend cowboy, tonight might be one of his last rides on what for decades has been a moneymaking train: parlay cards.
Long considered a sucker bet — and they are for most of us — professional bettors such as Cowboy Erik have been beating parlay cards for decades. But the edge is diminishing, and the hassle is increasing.
“This may be the last year I do this,” he says to me before he steps on the gas and we speed off into the Vegas night.
Rest is here
