Naughty Card Counters Make Bank With Straight Dealing

SAN DIEGO (TNA) – Mike Aponte, aka “Jason Fisher,” knows when to keep his mouth shut – which should surprise no one. Aponte played blackjack for the notorious MIT blackjack team in the mid- to late- 90s, and was a central figure in the 2003 book that chronicled the team’s lucrative run through Las Vegas, “Bringing Down the House.”

Aponte, 36, has made a fortune based on discretion, and he’s not about to open up to a reporter simply because of the complimentary line of questioning. During a recent interview he expounded on the business of blackjack, only to tug the reins after touching on a deal involving a reality TV show.

“I can’t talk about it,” he said flatly.

Back in the 1990s, MIT grad Dave Irvine became a gambling legend as part of the infamous MIT blackjack team. Now, he teaches average Joes and Janes how to count cards.

Instead, he discussed the BlackJack Institute, a company he launched with fellow blackjack teammate Dave Irvine in 2004, as well as life since leaving MIT and being banned from most casinos around the world.

Through the Blackjack Institute, Aponte and Irvine teach blackjack players how to count cards and legally beat the house. The company offers software, manuals, and premium onsite instruction – the latter product running a cool $5,000 per weekend.

The business provides Aponte with a comfortable income, but one thing is clear: He misses the action.

Since 2000, Aponte and other high profile members of the MIT team have been banned from playing blackjack in casinos around the globe, including every property in Vegas.

He’s tried to sneak in a few hands here and there – he won’t say exactly where – but has been quickly discovered and asked to leave.

“The last time I played was, maybe, a few months ago,” he says obliquely. “The last time I played high stakes was in 2005. … I did OK.”
While card counting isn’t illegal, casinos nonetheless have the right to ban counters – a loophole that occasionally frustrates Aponte. Few people are forced into retirement at the height of their skills.

“It used to really bother me,” he says, “to have this unique skill and not be able to do anything with it.”

He tells of the time he played in the Caribbean in October 2006. After ten minutes, the casino manager approached the table and politely asked him to leave. Aponte obliged with equal politeness, a reaction that surprised the manager.

The two ended up getting together for dinner the next several nights.

“He ended up being a really nice guy,” says Aponte. “I was lucky. It just so happened he was reading [‘Bringing Down the House’] when I walked into his casino that day.”

Aponte didn’t conceal his identity in the Caribbean, and claims that he never wears a disguise. One reason is that he’s just too recognizable. In “Bringing Down the House,” author Ben Mezrich elaborately characterized Aponte, alias “Jason Fisher,” detailing his Asian-Brazilian ethnicity, round face, bulky body type, and calm demeanor.

Irvine, 37, has had an easier time playing, primarily because he wasn’t portrayed in the book. As a team “spotter,” or “back counter,” Irvine’s role was to find tables favorable to counters, then call in big money players, such as Aponte.

The two agree that the biggest problem for distinguished card counters isn’t the technology – the eyes in the sky, or facial recognition software – it’s what Irvine terms “human capital.”

“Vegas isn’t a very big town,” Irvine explains. “Casino people go from one casino to the next, so there’s a very good chance that someone, somewhere, will recognize you.”

Not that the cameras are a threat, anyway. According to Irvine, a tournament professional who’s been banned from as many casinos as Aponte, the cameras primarily track employee behavior.

“The last thing casino people are concerned about is the betting patterns of players,” he states, adding a caveat: If a player bets big, with a betting pattern that fluctuates wildly, casinos will invariably take notice.

“If we had bet a couple hundred dollars per hand,” Irvine points out, “we’d probably still be playing.”

Mike Aponte enjoys teaching his tips to others, but admits he misses the action himself.

Asked his chance of being able to play in Vegas, Irvine responded glumly, “Not very good.”

Casinos aren’t the only organizations from which Aponte and Irvine are disenfranchised. The MIT alumni don’t have much of a relationship with their alma mater these days. MIT sued them in 2004 when the two registered their company name as “MITBlackjack.com.” The parties eventually settled out of court.

However, reconciliation may be in the works: Representatives from MIT have recently invited Irvine out to dinner.

“I think they’re trying to raise money,” he quips.

Irvine emphasizes that he has a respect and fondness for MIT and its students, and would like to have a “formal relationship” with the school.

“I think it boils down to donating money,” he suggests. “Maybe in the future, we’d fund a math or statistics scholarship.”

More so than Aponte, Irvine has settled comfortably into the role of the erstwhile gambler. He has a day job far removed from the velvet tables: He runs an engineering firm that develops technology the U.S. government uses to destroy chemical weapons.

As the nature of Irvine’s work is sensitive, he tears a page from the Aponte book of discretion and offers nothing more than a one-sentence job description. He is, however, more forthcoming about the reality TV show that the two are working on.

According to Irvine, the show calls for he and Aponte to coach two teams through head-to-head blackjack competition, with teams playing for “funny money.”

And there’s a twist: The program will be shot in casino side rooms, which means that Aponte and Irvine will be working with the gaming industry rather than against it.

“It would be great exposure for the casino properties,” Irvine rationalizes. “Like a mini-advertisement.”

However, the cozy relationship between the Blackjack Institute and the casinos doesn’t mean Aponte and Irvine will work as consultants for the casinos any time soon.

“We wouldn’t do it,” says Aponte. “That’s like going over to the ‘Dark Side.’”