Originally Posted by
Aslan
I played nothing but 6- and 8-deck for most of the beginning of my card counting at blackjack, owing to the fact that I was living on the east coast. It's much worse than Tthree made it out to be, and he made it out to be terrible. The roller coaster will try to whip your head right off your shoulders like a radical jihadist on a rampage. One needs more faith to be a shoe player than to be a Christian or an atheist. A card counter has his faith in a mathematical formula that you can see, and simulate, and snuggle up to, not an invisible Deity or lack thereof, but at times it will make you doubt what you know to be true.
Tthree was right when he said you lose more hands than you win even in a plus count, depending entirely on winning splits and doubles when they decide to appear and getting your fair share of naturals. Of this you can be sure, there are times when you lose nearly every max bet you put out, including splits and double downs, and naturals are scarcer than trees in the Sahara Desert, and there is no law prohibiting this from happening shoe after shoe after shoe ad nauseam. You get to the point where you know (you think you know) what's going to happen next, and I have discovered unscientifically but experientially that when you get to that point, you're cooked-- quit, take a vacation, get plenty of rest, get your mind on something else, because when it happens, it's better to let it happen in small doses, so that you do not lose your mind.
They say when you live with an insane person, you must be careful to keep enough distance so that you too do not become insane. Well, it's the same with counting 6- and 8-deck. When it turns really ugly, and the cards are acting insanely like a drunken schizophrenic, it's time to distance yourself. I truly believe that too much roller coaster whiplash affects one's ability to calmly and confidently play as planned, never pushing it, never steaming, never trying something different to break the seemingly endless train of bad beats. I must admit that one thing that drives me on through those unreal times is the belief that the long rum looms out there somewhere in the distance and I need to run there as fast as I can. But my experience is to make haste slowly. It will come, but you can't hurry it, and in fact, you can prolong it if you lose your grip.
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