THE SECRET OF THE GAMBONI

The secret of the Gamboni is the secret of how to survive in the financial markets.
Understand it ... really understand it ... and you are on your way to success as a trader,
speculator, or investor. So, here it is.

Joe was a card player, a good one. He was so good, in fact, that he had to move from city to
city and find games where he wasn’t known in order to play for high stakes. One afternoon,
in a bar in the suburbs of Chicago, he’s shooting the breeze with the bartender and asks,

“Say, where can I find a good card game around here?”

“What kind of stakes are you talking about?”

“Big,” Joe says, “the biggest game you know about.”

“Well now, I hear there’s a game out in the farm country. It’s a bit of a drive, but these
particular farmers play for big money. Let me make a call and see if it’s OK.”

So the bartender makes the call, and then gives Joe directions to the game. That evening, after
a long drive, Joe pulls up to this barn in the middle of nowhere. Tentatively, he walks inside,
tiptoeing around the fetid piles on the floor. At the back of the barn, he spots a partially open
door, with light and smoke pouring through the opening. The familiar rush of anticipation
and energy sweeps through him as he enters the room and introduces himself.

Farmers in overalls sit around the table, chewing cigars and puffing their pipes. In a quick
glance, Joe estimates the current pot to be about $40,000 - perfect. So he sits down. “Ante
up,”
says the farmer holding the deck of cards. And Joe begins to play.

About an hour later, Joe is holding is own. He is about even when he draws three aces and
two queens - a full house. With a large pot already on the table, he raises $15,000. The next
two guys fold, but the leather-faced farmer across the table calls him and raises another
$15,000, without so much as batting an eye. Joe, certain that the guy us bluffing, calls the bet
and lays down his aces-high full house. The farmer lays down junk: three clubs and two
diamonds of mixed numbered cards. Joe, suppressing a smile, starts to rake in the pot.

“Wait just a darn minute,” says the farmer, a stern and reprimanding tone in his voice.

“Whattaya mean, wait a minute,” says Joe, “you got nothin.”

“Take a look at the sign over your right shoulder,” smiles the farmer.
Joe looks: