It was inevitable: The scent of smoke and saline anxiety weaved through the sports book at the Palms Hotel and Casino during the first of two NCAA Men's Final Four basketball games on April Fool's Day, and for the multitudes who smoked and perspired and stood about (because all the seats had been long taken), it was just another part of the gambling experience. Just as were the 46 surrounding televisions, the petite Asian cocktail waitress with tsunamic breasts and the dirty old men staring at her, and Don, at the window, shouting over the room's clamor the last call for bets as the Florida-George Mason game was about to tip off.
They—the gamblers: men, for the most part, from both in and out of town, some there strictly for the NCAA tournament, Nevada's biggest gaming event, and others because of their undisguised addiction—could have picked the University of Florida, a five-point favorite to win the evening's first game, or George Mason University, an improbable member of the 2006 Final Four with its controversial entry into the tournament, its No. 11 seed, and its 300-to-1 odds of winning the whole shebang.
David P. Sauer's bet, however, was on the under. That is, he wagered $100—a critical sum for him, a business major at San Jose State University, who at 28 had re-entered the life and poverty of a student a few years ago—that the teams combined would score less than 132 points, an arbitrary but premeditated figure the Palms' experts posted just before the game started.
Which was the number pulsating in his head as Lamar Butler, a guard for George Mason, initiated the scoring with a layup just 38 seconds into the game. Those who had put their money where their heart was went crazy, and even though they were the obvious minority, they continued to cheer on George Mason with the volume of Roman spectators as the game remained neck-and-neck over the next five minutes of play.
But then Florida went on a run, swelling their lead from one to six in a matter of eye blinks; and George Mason went cold, missing every shot they attempted.
"Make a damn shot, will ya!" screamed a short New Yorker at the front of the room, pointing at the large screen above him.
He then turned around to his father and uncle, both of Italian heritage, and said: "My guys can't even make a goddamn layup!"
On the other side of the sports book, an Israeli, followed by his wife, a breathtaking woman with the haughty air of a young princess, threw his arms in the air and unleashed an ineludible "WHOOOOOOO!"
But Dave remained quiet.
And that's because the total score began to climb at an alarming rate. George Mason recovered their form, and Florida's Taureen Green hit two three-pointers just before the half came to an end, sending bettors off to take a short leave from their tension with the score 31 to 26, Florida.
Just before the second half was to start, Don at the window announced again: "Last call for bets!" For in these days you can wager on just the second half if you like. Or you can wager on specific events, like total three-point field goals to be made, or total turnovers, or whether or not Lamar Butler will miss a free throw (odds were he wouldn't). Or, if college hoops isn't your bag, you can wager money on Pretty Boy Floyd Mayweather's boxing match next Saturday against Super Jab Judah, or Sunday's NASCAR event in North Carolina, or professional bowling, or just about any other sporting event known to man, with just one exception: professional basketball. And that's merely because the Palms' owners—the Maloofs—also own the NBA's Sacramento Kings.
The madness of March 2005 included some $85 million in wagers, according to the state of Nevada's official reports, and several gaming officials are expecting to see greater numbers for this year's NCAA tournament. By and large, that's because it has thus far been four rounds of exciting action and chaotic upsets, epitomized by George Mason's presence in this weekend's games, and also because nearby UCLA is still alive. In fact, according to gaming authorities, nearly one-third of the money bet this weekend in Nevada was placed on the Bruins, which is tops for the semifinal teams. Don at the window was able to confirm this same trend at the Palms.
All of which is to say that sports books across the Valley were full of nervous twitching, lunatic ravings and the defaming of referees making judgment calls halfway across the country.
"He traveled, damn it!" the fiery New Yorker said after Florida opened the second half with a three-pointer. And then, as Lamar Butler took the inbounds pass: "Don't hold the ball, damn it: Run!"
George Mason did, but to no avail. They could neither score nor stop Florida from scoring. An elegiacal silence overcame the sports book as Florida pulled away, with 14 minutes remaining.
The Israeli and other Florida backers sat smug. And the incessant buzz of horse-racing gamers was like a fly interposed at George Mason's premature funeral. Yet, for Dave, who cared only about the teams' combined score—now 75 (45 to 30)—the game was far from over.
The action became monotonous: Florida's blue jerseys streaking upcourt, the bodies in the green George Mason jerseys losing their rigidity and composure; the blue team getting the steals, grabbing the rebounds, making the big shots, the green team growing frustrated, their misplacement amongst the best talent in college hoops manifesting with every dwindling second. And so all gamblers in the sports book now seemed to be more preoccupied with the cocktail waitress—both with the booze she was bringing and the Himalayan cleavage she was sporting. Except Dave, for with 7:33 left the score was 60 to 45 and he had only 27 total points to spare before his beloved $100 went to the house.
With every score he gritted his teeth. Thin, tense and reticent, Dave coiled like a spring whenever either of the teams committed a foul, for not only did that cause the clock to stop, but it also allowed the score to escalate.
Then, without warning, George Mason went on a spurt, reviving their retinue, who with the entirety of their vocal chords tried to cheer on the underdogs from their seats in the Palms sports book, some 2,000 miles away from the RCA Dome in Indianapolis.
And it seemed to work too, because George Mason cut the lead to single digits with a three-point shot with under five minutes to play. Everyone in the sports book—just like the players and coaches in Indianapolis—knew then that the game was still up for grabs. Especially in this tournament, where miracles had taken place on a regular basis.
Reality, of course, would set in. Florida hit six consecutive free throws to re-establish a lead, which proved to be insurmountable, and which made Dave sweat in large salty drops, and which stirred other guys who bet on the over/under to smoke their endless cigarettes with a fiend's persistence. The score, with exactly one minute remaining, was 70 to 56, for a combined 126 points: just six less than the formidable 132.
Florida took a three-point shot and missed it, only to get their own rebound; then they took another, and SWISSHHHHH, the total score was now 129; and then, without deliberation, George Mason flew down the court and, just 27 seconds left now, they hit an uncontested layup, much to the panic of Dave, who had to double-check the score to believe it: 73 to 58—a total of 131. Another basket and his money's gone. Florida took the ball up court without resolve, and the folks who bet on the over screamed at them to shoot, and at George Mason to foul, but neither happened, and the final buzzer went off, bringing an end to the scoring just one point shy of 132.
Dave exhaled.
"I come to Las Vegas two, three times a year, usually with the big events, like March Madness and the Super Bowl," he said afterward. "Putting money on the game just brings more excitement to it, doesn't it?"
The winners walked up to Don at the window and cashed in their tickets, while the losers tore theirs up. And both looked forward to their next bet, which for most gamblers is inevitable.