Some believe Cuban dominoes is a contest of high-level strategy, instant mathematical calculation, and gut intuition. They’re right, of course, but they’re also dead wrong. In its purest form, Cuban dominoes is a vehicle para hablar mierda, a psychological battle where the objective is to ruthlessly invade, occupy, and destroy your rivals’ minds. It is the pathological Cuban instinct to talk massive shit to anyone within earshot made manifest through 55 small plastic tiles.
Today I invite my readers to grab a rum and coke, drink a chair, and join me at the domino table, where they’ll learn the basics of this beautiful, engrossing, deceptively simple game so, next time their partner yells, “¡Me comiste la salida!” they’ll know exactly why.
First things first: what is Cuban dominoes?
Glad you asked. Literally everyone in the Western Hemisphere—from Argentina to Mexico to Haiti to Jamaica—plays double-six dominoes. That means the highest possible numbered tile in a set has two sixes. Cubans took a good look at this international consensus, and the mind-boggling statistical analysis it entails, and said, “Nah, add 27 more fichas.”
A “ficha” is the word for a domino tile. There are 55 fichas in a Cuban domino set, all of which have two numbers. The lowest possible number combination is the double-blank (it has two zeros) while the highest is the double-nine.
A game is composed of two competing teams of two people. Teammates sit across from each other while their opponents sit to either side. Look to your right. Glare. That is your principal adversary for the duration of the game. It’s your job to demolish this person’s sanity, self-esteem, and belief in humanity for the next ten minutes. Your partner across the table will ostensibly take care of the poor soul to your left to keep them from doing the same to you.
The first thing you, your partner, and rivals do upon sitting at the domino table is flip all the fichas face down so none of the numbers are visible. Everyone then mixes them to assure they are randomized. More mischievous players already begin messing with each other at this stage. They can refuse to mix, absentmindedly move around a single ficha, put a palm on top of an opponent’s hand, or even slap their knuckles. This, of course, should only be done with close friends with whom you have confianza and who can take the jodienda. By no means should one get up to such tomfoolery with strangers or esteemed elder players.
Once everything is good and mixed, all players collect 10 fichas and flip them over while making sure to hide them from their opponents and partner. Beyond talking shit, your secondary objective is to guess the other players’ hands to help your partner and—you guessed it—talk even more shit to your opponents.
Any player who has five doubles (a ficha that has two of the same number) can demand a reshuffle so everyone gets a new hand. This is because every double cuts your chance at playing it by half compared to regular ficha. One of your priorities is therefore to get rid of them. Five doubles is a very difficult handicap to overcome but it is up to each individual player to ascertain whether they want to ask for a reshuffle. After all, winning with an excess of doubles is another excellent opportunity to—say it with me now—hablar aún más mierda.
Arrange your fichas in whichever manner helps you comprehend the strengths and weaknesses of your hand at a glance. I personally like to organize them with the largest fichas descending to the lowest from left to right, but many others prefer to group like fichas together (e.g.: all eights placed next to each other).
A “good” hand is highly subjective. However, I consider having four of any one number decently strong. The lower the value of that number the better for reasons we’ll get into shortly. Five or more of a ficha and you’re ready to dominate the hapless victim to your right.
Cuban dominoes is—obviously—a game of numbers. Out of 55 fichas, the four players at the table draw a total of 40, meaning more than a quarter of the fichas (and all their combinations) are out of play. There are only 10 iterations of each possible number (double blank, blank-one, blank-two… all the way to blank-nine). So, if you have four fichas with the same number, chances are at least one of them is in the out of play pile. In other words, you probably have half or more of all the fichas on the table with that number—granting you a significant advantage over your opponents. But I’m getting ahead of myself again.
Once all the players organize their fichas, it’s time to decide which team goes first. If your opponents won the last game, then the answer is easy: they do. However, if this is both teams’ first game, the traditional manner for figuring this out is by grabbing a face down ficha from the out of play pile and asking an opponent to choose either pare (even) or none (odd). If, when the ficha is flipped over to reveal its total value, your opponent guessed correctly, they get to go first. If not, you do. The ficha in question is once more placed face down, returned to the out of play pile, and the game can begin.
Let’s assume your opponent guessed incorrectly and your team goes first. You and your partner must now collectively decide who should put down the first ficha and therefore dictate the game’s cadence. Preferably, the person with the stronger hand should open the game. The problem is that directly communicating with each other a la, “Hey! I have six fours, including the double!” is considered cheating. Therefore, a code has developed wherein the teammates ask each other how they “feel.”
Feeling “pretty good” means you have a decent hand though not an excellent one. Feeling “great” means you have a good hand. If you have an outstanding hand, just go ahead and demand to go first. Your partner will understand. You could just bullshit everyone by insisting you’re feeling freaking fantastic while your hand is in fact a steaming pile of lo que pica el pollo, but that’s a pretty surefire way to piss off your partner.
A quick aside on the mechanics of Cuban dominoes. The rules are fairly simple. If you put down the opening ficha (la salida), the turns proceed in a counterclockwise direction, so your opponent to the right must match a number on one of their fichas to the salida. It’s then your partner’s turn across the table to do the same, followed by the opponent to your left, and then back to you. This repeats until either a player has played all their fichas or the game is locked because no one can match a number on the table. In the former situation, the losing team adds up the numbers on their remaining fichas, which becomes the winning team’s score. In a locked game, both teams flip over their fichas and the individual with the lowest hand wins for their team. The losing team then once again tallies up their fichas as the winners’ score. Most games are played to either 100 or 150. Once that number is reached, the losing team leaves the table to make room for another while the winning team remains to play with new opponents.
You can only play on the two numbers at the far ends of the plastic tile snake winding its way across the table. Doubles are placed perpendicular and centered to the previous ficha. All other fichas are simply placed end-to-end. Should a player not have a ficha they can match, they must let everyone know by knocking on the table, thereby skipping their turn. Your highest priority is to make your opponents knock because it increases the chances of your team playing all their fichas first or winding up with the lower score.
Now back to the game.
As you survey your fichas and ponder which one to play as the salida, we must now venture into strategy. The simplest approach is called bota gorda or la descarga. This entails ridding yourself of the largest pieces as quickly as possible to increase your chances of having the lowest tally at the end of the game. However, it entails absolutely no critical thinking, will leave your partner high and dry, and will almost certainly be picked up on and easily countered by moderately skilled opponents.
This is not to say you necessarily want to hold onto your large pieces. The nine-nine, nine-eight, double-eight, and seven-eight are lead weights severely dragging down your chances of winning should the game lock. However, getting rid of them should be paired with a more thoughtful strategy in which you prioritize playing fichas with numbers you have many of. For example, if you have four fives but only one nine, play one of the fives, even though the nine has a higher value. Otherwise, you might find yourself in a position to pass on a nine because you played yours too early in the game.
Alright, so you’ve chosen your salida (let’s say it’s a seven-eight) and you’ve placed it on the table. Your partner and opponents will assume you have a plethora of both numbers, so the former will try to play fichas with the same numbers while the latter will attempt to block them.
The opponent to your right plays on the seven, thereby “covering” it with another number (we’ll say the seven-four). Your partner will then traditionally play on your opponent’s four because they want to keep the eight open as a future option for you. Pay close attention, though, because if they do cover that remaining eight, it’s bad news. This is called comiendo la salida (eating the salida). A competent and collaborative player would only do this because they don’t have any fours in their hand. Your opponents will notice this and try to “squeeze” (apretar) them by playing more fours to make them pass. A selfish partner might’ve done this because they want to control the game, in which case they’ll be of no help to you. Finally, a novice partner might’ve eaten your salida because they don’t know what they’re doing. Either way, estás bastante jodido.
As the game proceeds, take note of which numbers your opponents and partner seem to avoid playing. A good way to figure out if they have a number (a five, for example) is to “throw the game to fives.” This means playing fives at both playable ends of the snake to see if they knock. When they do, commit the numbers on which they passed to memory and then needle them mercilessly over it. Insist it was all part of your master plan even if it was a complete accident. Loudly proclaim yourself the Cuban dominoes Nostradamus whose clairvoyance means you can perfectly see and counter their entire hand. Not to sound like a broken record but, even if this is all bullshit, hablando mierda is the whole point of the game.
Also, take heed of when your partner passes and try to avoid playing those numbers unless you have an absolutely killer hand that’ll win you the game by yourself. This might be a completely delusional sentiment, but convincing yourself of your own strategic brilliance is also foundational to Cuban dominoes.
Try to turn your opponents against each other. Should one throw the game to threes but the other cover a three, loudly exclaim your disbelief at the offender’s brazen egotism. If an opponent passes several times, turn to their partner and wonder out loud if they might accidentally be playing Scrabble, because that game has letters instead of numbers.
You will often see players stop during their turn to count fichas. Remember, a box of Cuban dominoes holds ten of each number. So, if you count six sevens on the table and have the other four in your hand, you’re pretty freaking golden. Put down a seven as soon as you can. This will leave one side of the table open for you and closed to everyone else. Try to keep it open for as long as possible by playing on the other side and only covering your seven as a last resort.
As the game nears its end, you should prioritize getting rid of your larger pieces and doubles. In the meantime, take every opportunity to further aggravate your opponents. If you play a number they already passed on, tap the remaining number to let them know where to play. When they pass, ask if there might be someone at the door, as there seems to be a tremendous amount of knocking.
And so, at last, we come to the end. The game is locked and it’s time to reap what you sowed. Maybe you’ve won, thereby vindicating the Mount Everest of shit you’ve talked to your opponents. Then again, maybe you’ve lost, at which point they will justifiably drop that same massif of verbal effluence on your head for being both a loser and a blowhard. Either way, it’s all in good fun, as Cuban dominoes isn’t about winning or losing, but the friends we aggravate along the way.
Author’s note: I began writing this piece thinking it would be a short, funny lark about how to play Cuban dominoes. However, it quickly ballooned into a 2,000+ word dissertation that only summarizes some of the basic strategies of this endlessly complex and beautiful game.
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Andrew Otazo
'Miami Creation Myth' author Andrew Otazo has advised officials on Cuba policy, worked for the Mexican president, fired a tank, and ran with 30lbs of trash.
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