Mangoes and Mobsters

There were two things I liked about Tony the moment I met him in Costa Rica. He was eating a fresh mango just picked from a tree in his front yard. And he offered me one.

Slurping the juice of the ripe mango, Tony, an Italian with a barrel chest and grandfatherly looks, said, 'This is the healthiest fruit in the world. I eat it every day and I've never had a problem with my constitution. But you can't eat it with good manners. You have to slurp it like the Ticos do.'

We were in the horse betting parlor at Europa Europa, which had invited me to be its guest for a poker tournament. My air fare, room, drinks and food were all comps, thanks to my winning a World Poker Open Omaha High-Low tournament in Tunica, MS.

Tony managed the horse room. The place was large, air-conditioned with a private bar, and was equipped with television monitors that featured live horse racing from all the major tracks.

San Jose, the capital city of Costa Rica, was filled with poker players from all over the world. While most of them came from America, I had already met some of the top players from England, Canada, Australia and South America.

A tournament with a $260 buy-in was scheduled for 7 p.m. Having nothing better to do than admire the enticing Costa Rico beauties who frequented the casino and a night club a block away, I decided to test my luck on the horses.

On my way to the horse parlor, I was hailed by a friendly Tico. He introduced himself as Miguel and said in perfect English, 'I am the only friend you will ever need in Costa Rica.' Before my incredible week ended, Jose proved himself many times over. For pay, of course. Any time somebody does you a favor in a country like Costa Rica, be prepared to shell out some American greenbacks, which are much preferred over the local currency.

He accompanied me to the horse parlor. We walked down a wide boulevard of bustling traffic and colorfully dressed Ticos who smiled, made eye contact and who seemed overjoyed to meet somebody from America.

'People here are very friendly,' said Miguel, snatching an apple from a cart patrolled by an old man who gave him a seething look -- then laughed. 'Don't worry about him. He's my grandfather. I don't think he'll report me to the police.'

After Fidel Castro closed down the Havana casinos, night clubs, and houses of ill repute, the mobsters had to find another place to run their businesses. Many of them, Tony included, chose Costa Rica, he said.

'Here they pay taxes and treat the government officials with respect,' he said. 'The casinos and clubs put many people to work and are good for our economy. As long as everybody keeps his nose clean, nobody is bothered. Costa Rica has more freedom than any other country on earth. At least, that is what the visitors tell me and I believe them.'

After picking up a copy of the Daily Racing Form, I began studying it to make my selections. Tony ambled over from the cage and took a seat next to me.

'Are you a good handicapper?,' he asked.

'Sometimes. It all depends on my temperament and fate. Fate certainly seems to have a lot to do with gambling.'

Tony nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigar. 'This is from Cuba,' he said. 'Like to smoke one?' Since I had never smoked a Cuban cigar before, I said, 'Sure. Thanks.'

'I know you didn't ask me,' he said, 'but here's a tip on the horses. If the public is going one way, you go the other direction. Like the stock market. The insiders already know how a company is doing financially. That's why they buy the company's stock. When the public finally discovers what they already knew, the insiders sell their stock for a big profit, and the stock generally tumbles.'

'So it's a set-up?'

Blowing a huge puff of blue smoke, Tony nodded and smiled. He looked like one of the lead characters in 'The Sopranos' 'Big time. Just like a lot of horse races. Anyhow, I don't care if you win or lose. It ain't my money. Just have fun and write some nice things about Costa Rica when you get back to the States.'

That's what I'm doing, Tony. And by the way, your tip has helped me reap some big rewards on the horses. I never bet a favorite. And I have finally learned to eat a mango Italian-style.

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter. If you have a unique gambling story to share with him, you may qualify for a cash award. Send your story with all the details to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).