LAS VEGAS – Tom Barton stands on the southwest corner of Tropicana and the Strip. It is high noon, two weeks ago, but he looks back several decades, to the small hours of a particular day.
Pedestrians swarmed this intersection, one of the busiest on the planet, and were suffocating. Outside their rig, which had been converted into a parking lot, the drivers and passengers stood and cheered at the scene.
In the northbound lane, a muscle car and a low-speed three-speed “Fast & Angry models, all neon lights and loud mufflers, spinning wheels, billowing smoke. At the green light, they hit an illegal but exciting race.
Barton, 45, doesn’t remember the sirens or bailing incidents.
“Not to apologize, but it was great to see,” he said. “Everybody knew, ‘Okay, this is what these guys are doing.’ Every car stopped, to let them do it. And to watch.”
The Four Corners, with a world record crossing of 12,343 hotel rooms, served as the bet of sports that would emerge for Barton’s career.
He would be at the MGM Grand, on the northeast corner. He would send visiting friends to the New York-New York (northwest corner), Excalibur (southwest) and Trop (southeast) sportsbooks.
They would collect football spreads, totals and prices. They would reconvene at the Coyote Ugly Saloon, in New York-New York, where Barton, who had MGM numbers, bought the old rounds.
He would know the best positions. He would send his runners back, with money and instructions, to find the best. It led to his calling, as a professional fraudster and disability service provider.
“I didn’t know I knew. I was looking, but I wasn’t looking because I was a professional. I was looking because it didn’t make sense to me. Why should I pay a bad bet?
“People ask, ‘How long have you been in this profession?’ I say, ’12 years.
Thomas Barton Sr. He has never invested in an individual game. He would drink rare beer. He served his country. He was quiet and content, and many people respected him. He cherished his son and daughter.
The machine diligently delivered the pool sheet to the NFL’s weekly office in Levittown, New York.
Five bucks, games against the spread. Junior, maybe 7, helped him choose. They would have a “pig night,” enjoying pasta and ice cream as they chose. The senior won first-place sacks four or five times a season.
Tom Jr. he says “home,” or mother, always got the wins. That, along with the spare change the whole family would slip into a giant bottle of Coke, helped his parents take Tom and his sister Kim to Disney World.
“The Clark Griswold way,” Barton said, “is always driving.”
Junior studied broadcasting (one of his degrees was from Harvard), and would work in the ABC and ESPN radio studios in New York. When he unwittingly coincided with an operation with a bad prognosis in Cary, North Carolina, he called it quits.
When he was at his nadir, until he got some change at the market, he had to choose between milk for himself and his girlfriend, or Puppy Chow for the cute little guy they rescued from the street.
With the support of his girlfriend Abby Sanvi – who has roots in Champaign and Springfield, who would become his wife – he would make a living betting games, and eventually he would sell options.
(At their $60,000 wedding, which was paid for by Barton, the cell phone was given to patrons as they walked up the church steps.)
He is nationally featured on the Sports Garten radio network, produces podcasts and YouTube videos, and he and partner Tim Unlesbee have hosted a 10-to-30 weekend radio show on the Vegas Fox Sports outlet for 12 years.
Heatwave games are angles, information and tips. They are just chatting, being themselves. He is accountable. To Unglesbee’s surprise, the couple didn’t need a computer or notes.
During Barton’s visit, they perform in front of an audience at the Cabo Wabo Cantina, overlooking the Strip.
“A true storyteller in all aspects of his life,” Unglesbee said of Barton. “A proven handicapper, his deep sports IQ is unmatched and he’s a wonderful family man. It’s a pleasure to share his air time every week.”
Barton has $10,000, three wads of bills in his right pocket, but he wants to break the bank at the casino.
He stays in his shoes. His contact list is deep, with an insatiable thirst for information. He has a close-up photo of player recalls, injuries, depth charts, sentiment and charts.
His selection process is refined. Customers begged for more, so he made a great system. He always chooses a bet from its customers.
Certain meetings, website maintenance and social media corrosion are a concern, as are his Yankees and manager Aaron Boone’s decisions. He said, “They drive me crazy.”
However, pointing out the value of sports games, the risk of $2,000 per game and presenting it to customers, through a reasonable monthly price, has never been a pain in the ass.
“Because,” Barton said, “I know it will always work up to the percentage.”
We enter Barton’s casino on our first trip to Vegas in three years. The person, for many years, visited one week every month – some locals considered him one of them – that’s a long pause.
Before the disaster closed the world, Barton noted the slipping rates here. While running the four corners, he always greets Friday and Saturday nights in a suit and tie.
However, short dresses and general modesty have become de rigueur in this city.
He had just finished a sentence about the poor service in Vegas when a waitress placed a plastic tray next to him. Barton gave me a burger for $25, he put 25 in front of his burger. He must be self-confident, but he is a good-natured man who rarely hides.
Three shirtless and (clothed) guys order tourist drinks from the bar’s long fence and spend 20 minutes. This is not a relaxing place, but two managers don’t say anything.
In two days, Barton’s game is Toledo, which is rocking. In the NFL, he won with Houston, Pittsburgh, Chicago and Baltimore. He enjoys toys.
(He doesn’t think he’s perfect. Next week, he misses a pickup involving Denver tailback Javonte Williams, who is Heat fodder.)
Including the cost of food, drinks and roulette, he will return to New York on Monday afternoon with more than double the cash he brought here.
As he began to pick up those NFL games with his pop, Barton became a favorite with a unique quarterback, sweet tailback, tough defense and long-toothed refrigerator.
A lifelong Bears fan hates Green Bay, especially its diva quarterback. However, Barton always bets on Aaron Rodgers against Chicago. He did just that last Sunday night.
Funny facts and figures abound in Rodgers’ role. Barton always misses Rodgers at home in December, too.
Making money is what matters, open the head to the heart. It is about the bank and its customers.
About giving his wife, his children Tom III and Gracie, in Sandy Beach, near the tip of Long Island. About taking them to Disney World, à la Clark Griswold, maybe four times a year, and Key West.
About a father whose life ended prematurely and unfairly.
“He was everything to me, and he was ripped away so young,” Junior said of Senior. “He was a better man than I will ever be. I was always reaching for the stars. He was very grounded, but he always told me to go for it. “
“We don’t have much, but he instilled in me that vacations create memories. I don’t have a fancy car, a nice wardrobe or flashy watches. But, damn, we vacation a lot. His influence is still very important.”
