http://deadspin.com/5634833/day-one-at- ... e=true&s=i

"Dinky's the architect, we're the construction workers," Robbie J. said. "Just copy what I do and try not to get too distracted by my beautiful muscles."

Between my two phones I had sixty bookmakers programmed on speed dial. Beneath the speed-dial cover plate was a list of bookmakers' offices, each with a different code name and password. One of the bookmakers on my list was Texas Toast, a farmer in south Texas who was also a poker player. A notoriously slow speaker, he took twenty minutes to give a rundown of his day's odds. Dink always assigned him to his new clerks.

Robbie J. picked up his receiver and punched a speed-dial button with the eraser of his pencil. I picked up mine.

"Yep," Texas Toast answered.

"Hi. Uh, Nine-seven-six Popcorn. Can I get a rundown?"

There was a long silence. In the background, I thought I heard a cow moo.

"My gawd, Popcorn, you sound like a child. Here we go … N … B … A. Golden State … four … and … a hook. Eighty … eight. Bucks … six … and … a hook. Ninety … two."

I wondered what a hook was. Too shy to ask, I pretended to fill in the blank boxes of my rundown sheet and then called the next bookmaker on my list.

An eight-hundred number and a man with a Caribbean accent answered. "Sports. Dis is Bush."

"G-J-nine-seven-two Dinky," I said. "Can I get a rundown?"

"Of course, Ms. Dinky. Starting with college football. Jee-or-jee-uh, Boo-dog, ten and a half …"

Robbie J. held a receiver to each ear.

He spoke into one phone, "Gimme the Bulls first half, over oh-one minus the oh-nine for two dimes."

Then the other: "I'll take the Heat over the eighty-nine flat for a dime."

In between confirming one bet and making another, he slid a three-ply ticket from the pile in front of him and jotted down the name of the office with whom he bet, the bet itself, and the amount he bet to win. With the motion of someone throwing a Frisbee, he tossed his tickets one by one to Dink. Over the table the tickets flew, their top and bottom pages fluttering like moth wings. Two thousand, five thousand, twelve thousand dollars' worth of bets soared toward Dink. In one quick motion, Dink snatched the tickets out of midair as though they were pesky bugs.

I lost track of where I was on the rundown and hung up on Bush in midsentence.

Fun read. Maybe I'll buy the book to put in my pile of other books I'm going to get to reading in about 10 years.

_________________
O judgment! Thou art fled to brutish beasts,
And men have lost their reason.

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