some day the coin gets stuck on edge and heads/tails both lose.
People die every second. We all are going to do it. A person died on Sunday about whom I'd like to say a few words and tell a story.
His name was Howard Ring. He was brilliant and sensitive, a truly caring man who positively affected almost everyone he met. He had a tough side (he was a top floor trader, after all) but still, I never saw him anything less than gracious in any circumstance. He was genius, but he never made anyone feel less than that, he was most inclusive, a very patient teacher. Most importantly (for this venue) he had an extremely well integrated mathematical mind.
Now, I don’t mean he was a math geek. Other people are more mathematical than him, but none were as mathematical yet still knew how to be a big part of the real world. Most math mavens are too much so, they have their powerful knowledge and it allows them to think in cold, impersonal ways. It makes many of them feel superior. Not Howard. He had big math skill but he used it for the forces of good. Howard will be missed by many.
He was one of the finest gamesman I have ever met. He was a world champion of backgammon, winning the Cup in 1998. In the years around Y2K, our Chicago trading office had three of the best backgammon players in the world trading in-house (Howard, Neal Kazaross, and David Wells). After exchange hours, these three (and others) would play BG in the back offices, often with numerous spectators. The office games were for (relatively) small stakes, with much coffee housing and a very strong learning atmosphere. It made for great backgammon. I wish I had learned more from that time.
He played (and beat) other games. Almost everything he played, if he wasn’t the best, he was close. The only game I bested him at was poker, and even though he spent little time on cards, he was very good anyway. In fact, I only saw him truly beat one time. That was the infamous coin-flipping incident.
Howard knew math and always took positive expectation. He knew that flipping a coin is a 50/50 proposition. One day, a guy showed up at the exchanges willing to bet on coin flips. He got to call the coin. He’d pay odds to play (I don’t remember WHAT the odds were, but I do remember it was enough better than 1-1 to get not just Howard but almost anyone to play). There were a few other stipulations, like no audience, and the caller got to watch the coin, little meaningless things.
Howard and the Caller went into a side room. They started out small, $100 a flip. Howard got ahead in a small way. The Caller asked to raise the stakes. They started betting $1000 a flip. The Caller started winning. Now, Howard knew little streaks were likely, but as the Caller kept winning, Howard got more and more apprehensive. He was watching the Caller, but couldn’t see anything untoward. Howard got to use his own coin, he was the one actually touching the coin and doing the flipping. Still, the Caller’s streak kept going. Howard got down more than ten grand.
The Caller knew his man. Howard took the bets initially cause they were positive EV, but that assumed the situation was known. The more the Caller won, the more one could figure that the situation wasn’t actually known. Howard was close to quitting the game. The Caller asked to up the stakes again, $5000 a flip. Howard agreed. The Caller wins a few more flips. Howard then stops the game. He ends up losing about $25,000, figuring that is enough money to lose flipping coins. That was the ONLY instance where I ever saw anyone get much the best of Howard in all the many times I saw him put into betting analysis situations. He stood his ground intellectually with some of the finest probability analyzers in the world and ended up winners.
But not against the Flipper.
Coin flipping was talked about in the office many times afterward. We tried to figure out how the Flipper pulls it off, analyzing many different theories.
Any guesses?
His name was Howard Ring. He was brilliant and sensitive, a truly caring man who positively affected almost everyone he met. He had a tough side (he was a top floor trader, after all) but still, I never saw him anything less than gracious in any circumstance. He was genius, but he never made anyone feel less than that, he was most inclusive, a very patient teacher. Most importantly (for this venue) he had an extremely well integrated mathematical mind.
Now, I don’t mean he was a math geek. Other people are more mathematical than him, but none were as mathematical yet still knew how to be a big part of the real world. Most math mavens are too much so, they have their powerful knowledge and it allows them to think in cold, impersonal ways. It makes many of them feel superior. Not Howard. He had big math skill but he used it for the forces of good. Howard will be missed by many.
He was one of the finest gamesman I have ever met. He was a world champion of backgammon, winning the Cup in 1998. In the years around Y2K, our Chicago trading office had three of the best backgammon players in the world trading in-house (Howard, Neal Kazaross, and David Wells). After exchange hours, these three (and others) would play BG in the back offices, often with numerous spectators. The office games were for (relatively) small stakes, with much coffee housing and a very strong learning atmosphere. It made for great backgammon. I wish I had learned more from that time.
He played (and beat) other games. Almost everything he played, if he wasn’t the best, he was close. The only game I bested him at was poker, and even though he spent little time on cards, he was very good anyway. In fact, I only saw him truly beat one time. That was the infamous coin-flipping incident.
Howard knew math and always took positive expectation. He knew that flipping a coin is a 50/50 proposition. One day, a guy showed up at the exchanges willing to bet on coin flips. He got to call the coin. He’d pay odds to play (I don’t remember WHAT the odds were, but I do remember it was enough better than 1-1 to get not just Howard but almost anyone to play). There were a few other stipulations, like no audience, and the caller got to watch the coin, little meaningless things.
Howard and the Caller went into a side room. They started out small, $100 a flip. Howard got ahead in a small way. The Caller asked to raise the stakes. They started betting $1000 a flip. The Caller started winning. Now, Howard knew little streaks were likely, but as the Caller kept winning, Howard got more and more apprehensive. He was watching the Caller, but couldn’t see anything untoward. Howard got to use his own coin, he was the one actually touching the coin and doing the flipping. Still, the Caller’s streak kept going. Howard got down more than ten grand.
The Caller knew his man. Howard took the bets initially cause they were positive EV, but that assumed the situation was known. The more the Caller won, the more one could figure that the situation wasn’t actually known. Howard was close to quitting the game. The Caller asked to up the stakes again, $5000 a flip. Howard agreed. The Caller wins a few more flips. Howard then stops the game. He ends up losing about $25,000, figuring that is enough money to lose flipping coins. That was the ONLY instance where I ever saw anyone get much the best of Howard in all the many times I saw him put into betting analysis situations. He stood his ground intellectually with some of the finest probability analyzers in the world and ended up winners.
But not against the Flipper.
Coin flipping was talked about in the office many times afterward. We tried to figure out how the Flipper pulls it off, analyzing many different theories.
Any guesses?