Word: diced
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...loud drum roll echoed through the garish, tentlike concrete hall. He looked up at the high wire overhead to see one of the Flying Cavarettas flip over three times in the air and land in the arms of her brother. The act distracted him just long enough for the dice shooter to roll a crap three, wiping out the gambler's winnings. He collected his remaining chips, glared at a cavorting clown, shouldered past a lady stilt walker and stalked out of the casino...
...furled umbrella and powerful cigar are familiar to every newsman in Washington. He is a regular participant in the lunchtime poker-dice games at the bar of the Metropolitan Club. His counsel has been sought-or pointedly ignored-by every President since William Howard Taft. Woodrow Wilson often talked out his problems with him during the Paris peace talks that ended World War I.F.D.R. once regarded him as a "Hoover agent," twice tried unsuccessfully to get him fired. Both Jack and Bobby Kennedy submitted the manuscripts of their first books to him for critical comment. To his secretary, Laura Waltz...
...throw the dice and seven is showing, what is facing down? a) "Seven," b) "Snake eyes," c) "Box-cars," d) "Little Joes," e) "Eleven...
...rootless, helpless, 56-year-old accountant named J. Henry Waugh. Alone in his apartment, he spends all his nights and weekends playing an intricate baseball game of his own invention. Eight imaginary teams of the Universal Baseball Association battle for the pennant; individual players spring to life as three dice and a collection of elaborately detailed charts decide their fate. They reach glory, enjoy fame, grow old, lose their skills, retire to sell insurance and finally die as the dice decree. Waugh records the statistics. He is God's scorekeeper, or perhaps God himself-the name J. Henry Waugh...
...trauma is too much for Waugh. He becomes irresponsible, cheats with the dice, finagles the charts, juggles the schedule. He throws his cosmos into chaos. In the real world, he gets fired by his employer. As he drinks his troubles away, the people of the association comfort him. In the end, the players celebrate the death of Damon Rutherford with a passion-play re-enactment of the game. The cosmos no longer has any direction; the players are on their own. And there is the doomed Damon Rutherford, holding the baseball aloft, "hard and white and . . . beautiful." He says...