The Jesus of Handicapping

Mickey Appleman suggests that we meet at a rest area just off the Palisades Parkway in Northern New Jersey. I drive up, and there's Mickey, wearing baggy chinos and an old World Series of Poker jacket, standing in front of his silver BMW. Expressionless, he tells me to park my car and hop into his. We're going for a ride.



During these days of overnight sensations in the poker world, Mickey Appleman is old school; as he puts it, "I'm a loyalist from the Sombrero Room days at the Horseshoe." He looks like a hippie, plays like a prince, and once ranked as the biggest sports bettor in the United States. He's nearly always in action and is a guy you need to worry about at the poker table. Raised in Long Island, he earned an MBA from Case Western Reserve and, back in the late 1960s and early '70s, held a series of non-gambling jobs. He taught public school, advised minority entrepreneurs, and coordinated a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center. Clearly, Appleman is not your run-of-the-mill rounder. He's made 25 World Series of Poker final tables, has four bracelets, and recently began consulting with WorldSportsExchange (http://www.worldsportsexchange.com/), a web site that puts on sports-betting tournaments.



Back in Appleman's BMW, just a few miles from the Palisades, we reach a small but verdant park. He pulls his car into a space, steps out, and heads for a spot that overlooks the Hudson River. Taking in a great view of Manhattan and the Bronx, Appleman sits on a bench and says, "I thought this would be a good place for us to talk."



Michael Kaplan: Let me start by asking you the question that everybody asks you: Who do you like this weekend?



Mickey Appleman: Florida State against Rice. I feel like Florida State's offense has been very below par lately, and they are playing an opponent that they can stretch out against. Florida State should win by at least 40 points, and they are only about a 30-point favorite. [Appleman was right: Florida State wound up winning 55-7.]



MK: At the 2006 World Series, I literally saw a guy plotting to get a World Cup tip from you. Does it get annoying after a while?



MA: I don't like to tout; it's a no-win situation. Last weekend I loved Nebraska against USC. I took 19. The people who followed me took 17 1/2. The game landed on 18. I won, and they were distraught. I felt horrible.



MK: When did you realize that you had a knack for picking sports?



MA: In 1973, I was playing poker [in New York City, where he lived at the time] and somebody gave me one of those parlay sheets. I hit three out of four winners and got my money back. During the next three weeks, I went 4-for-4 each week. The guy who gave it to me was friends with a degenerate gambler, who hooked me up with one of the top bookmakers in New York. Very quickly, I became a known sports guy. It happened overnight. I never lost in the 1970s. In fact, I didn't have a losing year until 1986.



MK: You've told me about some of your biggest bets – $900,000 on the Carter/Reagan election, $300,000 on Larry Holmes against Muhammad Ali, $500,000 on a football game between Louisville and Memphis State. Describe your state of mind when you were gambling so high.



MA: Semi-berserk and always pushing the envelope, but I was in a good groove as far as handicapping went. I'd wake up in the morning and have to play high. If I was running bad, I'd be in a gambling frenzy, desperate to find something that I could fire at.



MK: These days you videotape the games and watch them after the fact. But you used to watch them live. What was it like to watch a game with you when you had a lot of money at stake?



MA: Here's an example. I remember one time when Syracuse was playing Georgetown in their conference tournament in the 1980s. I was doing very poorly then. It was a real downslide for me. My younger brother and a couple of people were over, watching the game. I took 8 1/2 points, and Syracuse was leading the entire game. Everyone was celebrating, but I'm always nervous until both teams walk off the court.



MK: Uh-oh.



MA: Yeah. Sure enough, Syracuse blows the lead and the game goes into overtime. At that point I left the house and went for a walk, because I was absolutely certain that I would lose. By the time I got back upstairs, the game was over and Syracuse had lost by 9. I went absolutely berserk, yelling, screaming, and breaking everything in my path.



MK: Was your brother shocked by your reaction to losing?



MA: He and the other guys knew me well enough to realize that this could happen.



MK: You didn't grow up gambling, did you?



MA: No. I was athletic. I was small but competitive. I had an innate talent for playing and handicapping. It was a gift.



MK: Do you see correlations between gambling and playing sports?



MA: Yes. You draw upon energies. If you play sports, you learn to dig deep and pursue excellence. That's ingrained in me. When you play poker, there are so many different ways to upgrade your game. As for sports betting, I never approached it from a technical angle. I was always more psychological.



MK: How so?



MA: I'm not trying to promote myself, but I'll tell you this: I can watch a game and dissect the flaws in success and the plusses in failure. If I see a flaw in a team's success, or, more importantly, a plus in its defeat, that is important. Usually, the next game or two does not reflect those plusses and minuses in the pointspread. These days, that's one of the few edges a bettor can find.



MK: Considering that you make money from poker and sports, how do you decide what you want to focus on at a given time?



MA: I'll tell you this: When sports gets very high, nothing is comparable. If you're beating sports, you can create your own stakes, which you can't do in poker. So, if I am betting $50,000 or $100,000 on a bunch of different games, why would I want to go out and play poker for a smaller win? Plus, playing poker often means staying up late and leaving your house [Appleman rarely plays online]. I'd say that sports probably suits me better.



MK: How high does a poker game need to get in order for it to be interesting?



MA: Depends on how much cash I have and how much I need. I've always been an earner in poker, and I've always been able to win when I need to win. But I'm willing to play small.



MK: How small?



MA: Probably $100-$200 at minimum.



MK: Are people surprised to see you playing so low?



MA: Occasionally. But you have to put your ego aside. To survive gambling for most of your adult life, you need to be flexible. Pride and ego are the major Achilles heels for successful gamblers. They take themselves too seriously and put too much stock in the successful runs – which can last three or four months at a time. You need to learn how to play tighter when the cards aren't coming your way and to parlay things when you're doing well.



MK: But that's all perception, right? I mean, the cards are the cards.



MA: Well, here's the thing: When you're way ahead in a poker game, necessarily, other people are losing, and they are probably playing below par. So, the point is that if I play aggressively when I'm ahead, I might win more than I ordinarily would. But the converse is also true.



MK: That when you're losing, the winners are playing better.



MA: Right. It comes down to damage control, and that is one of the key components for success in poker. If you are stuck $25,000, make it your goal to come out with a loss of 20. When you're stuck big, downsize your definition of success for that particular day. Over the long run, it works pretty well.



MK: Getting back to sports, were you betting exclusively in New York during the 1970s and '80s?



MA: Not after finding out that they had different lines in different parts of the country. I expanded into Ohio, where I had a lot of outs. A friend from my academic days put me in touch with some good people there. In New York, the line would be 4; in Ohio, it would be 6 or 7. We took positions and we arbitraged. I did this for five years [from 1976 until '81], and became the major force in the movement of Cleveland's lines. The whole city waited for me to bet.



MK: That sounds a little scary.



MA: Then, the FBI started asking questions about me. They wanted to know who this Mickey was. Four years after I started betting in Ohio, I flew there and went to the bookmaker's place. People looked at me and said, "There's the handicapping Jesus." And these were influential people. But after the FBI began making inquiries, I knew it was time to stop doing business in Ohio.



MK: When did you start traveling to Vegas?



MA: In 1976. The guy I was visiting there told me about a poker tournament down at the old Marina. I went and played against legends like Pug Pearson, Jack Straus, and Bobby Baldwin. I met all the poker players and they thought I was a drug dealer. They thought that for about a year. Then they figured out that I actually won at sports – and nobody ever beat sports. People wanted to get me down, and I had opportunities to bet in different parts of the country.



MK: What were your impressions of Las Vegas back in '76?



MA: The whole city was like a gambling club. There was a lot of camaraderie among the players. I was made comfortable by the Binion family. I remember walking past the Sombrero Room and Benny Binion knocked on the window. He motioned me over to his table, introduced himself, and said, "I've heard some good things about you. They tell me you're a good guy. Don't worry about anything. I'm watching out for you. You won't have any problems here."



MK: Sounds like a sweet life.



MA: I thought it was. When sports went well, I traveled all over the place, ate good meals, stayed in nice hotels, and played high-stakes golf. In 1985, I played Gabe Kaplan for half-a-million dollars. Gabe, Chip Reese, and I were on a yacht in the Greek Islands, and the water was so rough that the boat almost capsized. The captain had to make an emergency stop and we stayed on an island for a day and a half. The three of us played casino, we did some talking, and Gabe and I got a golf game on for $500,000 – which was a totally excessive amount.



MK: Who won?



MA: We settled during the match and I took a sizable profit. But in retrospect, it was a stupid thing to do. It compromised our friendship.



MK: Those massive personal wagers seem rampant in the poker world these days. What do you think of gambling friends making huge golf bets with each other?



MA: As I've gotten older, I've realized how stupid it is. It's about egos being out of control. But I was just a high roller back then. I'd have gambled on anything. I would have gambled on shooting foul shots, but nobody would bet me. One time, I was golfing with Jack Straus and the wind was very strong. I hit a 4-wood and got it on the green. He said it was the luckiest shot in history. I told him that it wasn't. I wound up betting $100,000 that I could do it again in 20 shots. Though I lost the bet, I was right. My shots were hole-high, but not staying on the green.



MK: So, that was different from gambling with Gabe because you and Jack Straus were both professionals, right?



MA: To some degree, it's true. But, in that instance, Jack challenged me. With Gabe, I took advantage of a friend who was an entertainer. Of course, though, he thought he was taking advantage of me.



MK: You mentioned that you had your first losing sports season in 1986. What happened?



MA: The lines got better and I didn't improve. I had given away a ton of money and made a lot of poor investments. Then I hit a brick wall. My psychological approach was being overcome by the strength of the line. I was inattentive. I was taking the worst of it. I started losing.



MK: Was it a slow leak?



MA: No. I lost a lot of money very quickly. Then, I had to borrow a million dollars, on points, from a connected guy. I had horses and was going to sell them [in order to pay back the principal], but I got defrauded by the people who were going to broker the sale. So now I owed a lot of money to people I shouldn't have owed. I was paying a point and a half, which came to $15,000 a week in interest. I did it for three years. Then, I had to sell everything I owned. It was 1990, I had a 2-year-old son, and owed out $5 million or $6 million. Bad times.



MK: How did you pay it back?



MA: I began playing poker very seriously.



MK: It seems like it would be impossible to play well with that kind of debt hanging over you.



MA: I played out of desperation. If I didn't win, my son didn't eat. I was the quintessential professional. I got to the game, sat in my seat, and did not say a word. I won almost every time I played. I had to win. I had to pay off juice. I had to straighten out my life.



MK: Jeeze. What a comedown.



MA: I had always been successful, and here I was, feeling like a lowlife because I owed all that money. I was not quite, but almost, a pariah. You know, you reap what you sow. Obviously, I was way too cocky in the '80s, playing too high, and not working hard enough. That's how sports is. You have to work hard.



MK: You ultimately paid off the money, got back on your feet, and returned to sports betting. The '90s was a great poker decade for you, and you've found new ways to beat sports. After all that you've gone through, are you happy to have spent your life as a professional gambler?



MA: I had opportunities to go into the options market, but I enjoyed my lifestyle too much. This kind of life works for me.



MK: And you don't exactly look like the Merrill Lynch type.



MA: I've always been comfortable with long hair and baggy pants. I like that look. I don't like the look today. Every man walking around with a button-down shirt, a wristwatch, and a belt – it's not appealing to me. I would rather wear a sweatshirt or a tuxedo, but nothing in between. And that's the great thing about gambling: As long as you can ante, regardless of how you dress or wear your hair, you're in.