The Gambler

- Bet two.

- Two thousand.

Is there an echo in here?

Two thousand.

Card.

How much?

Same bet. Been playin'

the same f***in'bet all night.

Card.

Twenty-one.

- Twenty.

- Drink!

Play two.

Three thousand.

You take it.

- What are you up at, six?

- Send it all in.

- Axel, we got limits.

- You tryin' to snap my rhythm?

- Two dime maximum.

- I just played three.

You wasn't supposed to play

no three! Two thousand. No more.

- It's for your own protection.

- F*** my protection!

Five hundred on come.

Here we go. Good roll.

Two aces, craps.

Two thousand, red.

No more bets.

Seventeen, black.

- Black's been comin' up all night.

- Thank you.

- Bets please.

- Twenty-four, black.

Red again.

No more bets.

Eight, black.

Hey, Axel,

you need some cash?

Call the Monkey.

I'll tell you where to go.

What could I tell ya? It's the

worst luck I've seen in 15 years.

Have you got any idea

how much you owe?

Forty-four and change.

Forty-four dimes!

That's six Eldoradoes.

$44,000!

It ain't just numbers.

I want another thousand, Hips.

You're gonna beat us

for 44,000 out of 1,000?

We shouldn't laugh.

This is serious.

You're the last person

I want anything bad to happen to.

You know that.

Come on, move it, will ya?

Let me see you

make it from there.

Hey, man, you lookin'

for somebody?

Which one out there

is the best?

What's it to you?

I wanna play him

a little one-on-one.

Twenty bucks.

Man, we don't got

no twenty bucks.

What you got?

A dime.

All right, I'll play him

You wanna be the fool,

rather you than me.

Take it to the hoop.

Eight up. Eight up.

That's a rookie!

Play him, play him.

Handle him, man, get on him!

He's a rookie.

All right!

Nine-eight.

It's nine-eight.

Here's the big one!

Anytime you want a replay, man,

you just come on by.

I'll remember that.

Hey, white boy!

First time I ever seen you

without a shave.

- It's a disguise.

- What did you do? Rob a bank?

I took over the country.

One-man coup.

Thank you.

I may even make you a sheriff

down in Texas.

Thanks.

Okay, when Dostoyevsky tells us

that he detests the fact...

that two and two make four...

and that he reserves

his sacred right...

to insist that two and two

make five, he's saying what?

- That his life is based on...

- Insanity.

- Frustration?

- Look, look!

Any cretin can prove

that two and two make four, right?

So the man that goes against that

must be riding on sheer...

Will.

Will. He claims an idea is true

because he wants it to be true...

because he says it is true.

The issue isn't whether

he's right...

but whether he has the will

to believe he's right...

no matter how many proofs

there are that say he's wrong.

How many fingers do you see

sticking up here?

Right now I see four.

But tomorrow I might be

absolutely sure that it's five.

It's precisely that possibility

that makes tomorrow intriguing.

"Reason only satisfies

man's rational requirements.

Desire, on the other hand,

encompasses everything.

Desire is life."

Yeah, well, I don't know

all about that...

'cause I'm dealing in reality.

I'm dealing in things

that I can see.

If you put half the concentration

to reading Dostoyevsky...

that you put into basketball,

you'd understand what he was saying.

Look. What's your...

What's your shooting range?

- Oh, about 20 feet.

- Do you ever shoot beyond that?

- Sometimes.

- Why?

Because sometimes I feel

the ball is gonna go in.

- That's why.

- Does it?

- No, not usually.

- Right.

But for that one second before

you shoot, you're certain it will.

All athletes and poets know that.

It's their secret connection.

They know it's going in.

They know...

that two and two are five.

That's it. Bye-bye.

By the way,

I got buried last night.

Anyone wanna lend me ten thousand

till the end of the semester?

- Ten thousand what?

- Of anything would help me.

- What's in it for us?

- Oh, an A+.

And a letter of recommendation

to military school.

- You winning?

- Tight, but I'm comin' on.

This is Ali.

Joe Frazier.

You couldn't deck

your own shadow.

Gettin' pretty reckless for

a little Rebel p*ssy, aren't ya?

Cut it out.

Let me go!

Big Yankee freak, you wanna fight?

You got a class?

- Nope. Going hunting.

- Huntin' what?

Cash.

- What is it this time, cock fights?

- Bingo.

Did you lose a lot?

A thousand?

Two thousand?

You did not.

$44,000?

How are you gonna get it?

I'll get it.

- I shouldn't associate with you.

- You love it.

I love what?

Strange smells.

Unfamiliar hands.

The possibility of blood.

You think so, huh?

Yes, ma'am, I do.

Excuse me.

Is my mother around?

- Yes, she's there in the next ward.

- Oh, good, thank you.

You're welcome.

Game.

I think I've had it for today.

Thank you.

I may need $ 10,000, Mom.

You what?

I may need $ 10,000.

You gambled?

Is it that you've gambled

and already lost...

or you're waiting to gamble

if I say I'll help you?

I probably won't even need it.

I just...

want to know that I can count

on you in case I do.

This is why you were trying

to take my head off on the court?

I don't know.

I need an answer, Mom.

I can't give you one

just like that!

You better call me tomorrow.

Axel Freed?

Carmine.

Monkey tells me

you're a teacher.

I have a class.

That's the Monkey's laugh.

- You should do that on television.

- Waiting for the right offer.

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