Right, let's have a yarn about one of the most fascinating figures in professional gambling history – a bloke who's managed to pull off something bloody remarkable: making millions from casinos while remaining virtually unknown to the pit bosses and surveillance teams hunting for advantage players. Ian Andersen, though that's not his real name, represents the absolute pinnacle of professional blackjack play – not just because he can count cards with the best of them, but because he's mastered the art of camouflage that allows him to keep playing while others get tossed out on their ears.

Ian Andersen is a pseudonym, and for bloody good reason. Unlike some professional gamblers who've courted publicity and fame, Andersen understood from the beginning that anonymity was his greatest asset. Even now, decades into his career, very few people know his real identity. No reliable photographs of him exist in the public domain. He's never appeared on television, revealing his face. He doesn't give interviews where his true identity might be compromised. This obsessive secrecy isn't paranoia – it's professional necessity.

What we do know about Andersen comes primarily from his own writings and from trusted sources within the advantage play community. He's believed to have started his blackjack career in the late 1970s or early 1980s, during what many consider the golden age of card counting. This was the era following the publication of Edward Thorp's groundbreaking book Beat the Dealer in 1962, when casinos were still figuring out how to combat card counters effectively.

Andersen came from a wealthy background, which gave him several crucial advantages that most aspiring card counters lacked. First, he had a substantial bankroll from the start – reportedly somewhere in the neighbourhood of $50,000 to $100,000, which was serious money back in the early 1980s. This allowed him to weather the inevitable downswings that destroy undercapitalised players. Second, his affluent background gave him natural camouflage. He could dress well, tip generously, and behave like a wealthy recreational gambler without it seeming forced or fake.

Perhaps most importantly, Andersen didn't need to gamble for a living in the traditional sense. He wasn't some desperate punter trying to pay rent through card counting. This financial security allowed him to be patient, selective, and willing to walk away from marginal situations. It's a massive psychological advantage when you're playing a game where the edge might only be 1-2% in your favour.

Andersen's first book, Turning the Tables on Las Vegas, was published in 1976 – wait, hang on, that timeline doesn't quite match up with what I said earlier about him starting in the late 70s. Actually, there's been some confusion about publication dates in gambling literature over the years. Let me get this straight: Andersen's most influential work, Turning the Tables on Las Vegas, came out in 1999, followed by Burning the Tables in Las Vegas in 2002. These books arrived at a crucial time when casinos had become quite sophisticated at detecting card counters.

What made these books absolutely revolutionary wasn't the card-counting systems themselves – plenty of books explained how to count cards. What made Andersen's work special was the focus on what he called "cover play" and the psychology of appearing to be a losing recreational gambler while actually maintaining a mathematical edge.

Turning the Tables on Las Vegas is approximately 240 pages of pure gold for serious players. Andersen walks readers through not just the technical aspects of card counting, but the entire lifestyle and methodology required to succeed long-term. He discusses everything from how to dress (well, but not flashy), how to behave at the table (friendly but not memorable), how much to tip (generously, but not suspiciously so), and even what kind of rental car to drive when visiting casinos.

The book includes specific numerical advice that other authors had largely ignored. For instance, Andersen recommends that serious players should spend approximately 70-80% of their time making bets that don't have the maximum advantage, deliberately making suboptimal plays that cost them a small percentage of their edge but dramatically reduce their heat from casino personnel. He calculates that giving up perhaps 0.3-0.5% of edge through camouflage plays is a worthwhile trade-off if it allows you to play three times as many hours before being identified as a counter.

Burning the Tables in Las Vegas, the follow-up volume published in 2002, expanded on these concepts with even more specific strategies and real-life examples. This book runs roughly 300 pages and includes detailed analysis of specific casino situations, conversations with pit bosses, and strategies for different types of gambling destinations. Andersen discusses the differences between playing in major Strip casinos versus downtown Las Vegas versus regional casinos across America.

What separates Andersen from other blackjack authors is his holistic approach to advantage play. Most card counting books focus almost exclusively on the mathematics – how to keep track of the count, when to increase your bets, when to deviate from basic strategy, and how to calculate your advantage. Andersen covers all of this, of course, but he spends even more time on what happens outside the actual card counting.

His core philosophy can be summed up in one word: longevity. Andersen recognised early that being the most accurate counter or having the biggest edge meant nothing if you got barred from playing after a few sessions. He observed that many talented counters burned out quickly because they were too obvious, too greedy, or too focused on maximising every possible fraction of edge.

Instead, Andersen advocates for what might be called the "80/20 approach" – capture 80% of your theoretical edge while presenting the appearance of being a wealthy losing player. This meant deliberately making plays that decreased his advantage but increased his camouflage. For example, he would sometimes make large bets at negative counts (when the odds favoured the house) if he'd been winning and wanted to appear like a gambler pressing his luck. Yes, this cost him money in expected value, but it bought him hours and hours of additional playing time.

Andersen calculated that his annual playing volume was approximately 300-400 hours spread across 40-50 casino visits. This might seem modest compared to professional counters who tried to grind out 1000+ hours annually, but Andersen's approach was about quality over quantity. By being selective about where and when he played, and by maintaining perfect camouflage, he could play in the best games with the highest limits and the best rules – games that more obvious counters would be barred from almost immediately.

His expected hourly earnings rate was estimated at somewhere between $200-500 per hour (in 1990s/early 2000s dollars), depending on the game conditions and his bet sizing. Over a 400-hour year, this translates to $80,000-$200,000 in annual income from blackjack alone. And crucially, this was sustainable year after year because he never got barred.

Andersen's books are packed with specific anecdotes that illustrate his methods in action. One story that's become legendary in advantage play circles involves a session at a major Las Vegas Strip casino where Andersen was playing at a high-limit table with a bet spread from $100 to $2,000 (this was in the 1990s, when these were very significant numbers).

During this session, Andersen was up approximately $18,000 after about three hours of play. The count went negative, but rather than reducing his bet to the minimum or leaving the table (which is what most counters would do), Andersen made a $2,000 bet – his maximum – at a disadvantageous count. He lost the hand, as expected, but the pit boss who'd been watching him visibly relaxed. From the boss's perspective, Andersen had just made exactly the kind of stupid bet that losing gamblers make when they're winning – trying to press their luck at the wrong time.

That single $2,000 "throwaway" bet probably cost Andersen about $1,200 in expected value (given the negative count), but it bought him another several hours of play at that casino without suspicion. Over those additional hours, he won another $12,000. The return on investment for that camouflage bet was enormous.

Another fascinating story involves Andersen's interaction with casino hosts. Unlike most card counters who avoid attention from casino personnel, Andersen actively cultivated relationships with hosts. He would accept comped rooms, meals, and show tickets. He would chat with hosts about his business, his family, his travels – creating a persona of a wealthy businessman who enjoyed gambling as recreation.

On one occasion, a casino host actually apologised to Andersen for his "bad luck" during a visit where Andersen had actually won $23,000. The host had noticed only Andersen's large bets that lost (which Andersen made when the count was negative) and missed his pattern of pressing bets when the count was positive. The host offered Andersen enhanced comps and invited him back for a tournament, which Andersen graciously accepted. He was being rewarded by the casino for winning their money.

Let's talk specific figures about Andersen's approach, because the numbers are what make this all real. Andersen reportedly played with a total bankroll of approximately $200,000-$300,000 during his peak years. Using the Kelly Criterion (a mathematical formula for optimal bet sizing), he would typically bet no more than 1-1.5% of his bankroll on any single hand, even when he had the maximum advantage.

His typical bet spread at a six-deck shoe game (the most common format in modern casinos) was approximately 1-to-15 or 1-to-20. This means if his minimum bet was $100, his maximum would be $1,500 to $2,000. However, Andersen didn't simply jump from minimum to maximum based on the count, as many counters do. Instead, he used a more gradual ramp-up and incorporated random variation to make his betting pattern less obvious.

Andersen tracked his results meticulously. Over what's believed to be a 20+ year career (late 1970s/early 1980s through at least the early 2000s), he reported winning approximately $2.5 to $3 million from blackjack. This represents somewhere around 1,200-1,500 hours of play annually if we average it out, though his actual playing time likely varied significantly year to year.

His win rate, measured in big bets per hour, was approximately 1.5 to 2 big bets per hour. In blackjack terminology, a "big bet" is your maximum wager. So if Andersen was playing with a $2,000 maximum bet, he was averaging $3,000-$4,000 per hour in winnings. This is an exceptionally high win rate, achievable only by playing in very good games (single-deck or favourable six-deck rules) with significant bet spreads while maintaining the ability to keep playing.

His longest winning streak was reportedly 14 consecutive winning sessions, totalling approximately $87,000 in wins. His longest losing streak was 7 sessions, representing about $32,000 in losses. These numbers illustrate the variance inherent in blackjack, even when you have the edge – you can experience significant swings in both directions.

Andersen devoted enormous attention to what he called the "soft skills" of advantage play – the human elements that have nothing to do with mathematics but everything to do with success. He identified several key principles:

The Acting Principle: Every moment at the table is a performance. Andersen would react to wins and losses appropriately for a recreational gambler – showing excitement at wins, disappointment at losses, even if these results were entirely expected based on his counting. He estimated spending about 30% of his mental energy on the count and playing decisions, and 70% on maintaining his cover.

The Generosity Principle: Andersen was known for tipping dealers generously, typically $25-$50 per hour of play. While this obviously cut into his profits, he calculated it as a necessary business expense that bought goodwill and reduced scrutiny. Dealers who were making good money from your tips were less likely to notice your betting patterns or rat you out to pit bosses.

The Conversation Principle: Andersen would engage in friendly conversation with dealers, pit bosses, and fellow players, but never about gambling strategy or his wins and losses in any detailed way. He'd talk about sports, weather, business, travel – anything to seem like a normal recreational player rather than a focused professional.

The Patience Principle: This might be Andersen's greatest strength. He would sometimes sit through shoes that never got favourable, making minimum bets for an hour or more, just to establish his cover as a steady player. Many counters lack this patience – they want action, they want to be betting big when the count is good. Andersen understood that sometimes the most profitable action is waiting.

Ian Andersen's influence on advantage play extends far beyond his own winnings. His books have educated thousands of players about the realities of professional gambling – not just the mathematics, but the lifestyle, the psychology, and the sustainability factors that determine long-term success.

Many professional blackjack players consider Turning the Tables on Las Vegas to be essential reading, ranking alongside classics like Beat the Dealer by Edward Thorp and Professional Blackjack by Stanford Wong. The difference is that Thorp taught people it was possible to beat blackjack, and Wong taught them the mathematical systems to do it, but Andersen taught them how to actually survive and thrive in the modern casino environment.

Andersen's techniques have been adopted by countless advantage players, creating what might be called the "Andersen School" of card counting – players who prioritise longevity and camouflage over maximum edge extraction. These players accept making less per hour than theoretically possible in exchange for being able to play for years or decades without being barred.

The bloke himself has largely disappeared from public view. His last book was published in 2002, and he's done very few interviews since then. It's believed he's now in his 60s or 70s and possibly retired from active play, though given his commitment to anonymity, nobody really knows for sure. He might still be out there, sitting at a blackjack table right now, looking like just another well-dressed punter having a flutter, while quietly extracting his mathematical edge.

And that, really, is the perfect ending for Ian Andersen's story – a professional gambler so successful at his craft that he remains a ghost, a legend, a name without a face. He proved that in the battle between player and casino, intelligence, discipline, and patience can triumph over raw mathematical skill. Fair dinkum brilliant, that is.