A FRIEND OF MINE WAS watching me play blackjack in a casino. I was playing heads-up against the dealer in a double-deck game. He didn’t say much to me while I was playing, other than giving me an “atta boy” when I beat the dealer, or offering condolences when the dealer pulled a miracle draw to beat me.
After about 45 minutes of playing we broke for lunch. My friend is a typical, casual blackjack player and he queried me about some of the insurance bets I made. “How come you sometimes insured your 20′s and other times you didn’t? And why in hell did you insure your 7? I always thought you’re supposed to insure your good hands and not your bad hands?”
I proceeded to explain to him the following: