That could be with regard to their stature, physical and mental, bets small or large or even reputation.
In the melting pot of gamblers - from all walks of life - you hear some amazing stories. I love the extremes you see in people. Some bet big money and as disciplined as they come while others are mad, reckless, wild and destined to lose every last penny.
I guess it's simply part of their character.
It's a certain type of personality, character trait, that captures the attention of the everyday punter.
Harry Findlay always reminded me of a gambler who was pretty much on the edge.
I think he loved the thrill to push his skill and luck to the limit.
Anyway, there are other gamblers who exemplify this thought.
You may have heard about an East End gangster called 'H'.
He had a reputation as a hard man and reckless gambler. If you've been around London long enough you will know who I am talking about, said his friend.
''H is a couple of years older than me. He's flat broke living on benefits in Loughton, waiting for a liver transplant. He looks after the gardens of the flat he lives.''
It's a sobering thought to think he lost millions on the horses and dogs.
One bet stuck in the mind. ''I placed £50,000 in one and two-thousand a time, the last few grand placed at a shop in Canning Town. I watched the race to see Admiral's Cup beaten by a short head.''
''He never turned a hair.''
''Another memorable story about H came when he and his wife and me and my wife went to Ladies Day at Royal Ascot. I looked posh in my mourning suit and top hat and the ladies looked gorgeous. However, H looking similarly formal wore his lucky black bootlace tie with its solid gold steer head fastener.''
One of the stewards on the Royal Enclosure spotted him and wouldn't let him in so he went berserk and stormed off to the Tattersall's betting ring.
He tried to wipe out every bookie in the enclosure with massive ''stupid'' bets.
He must have been half a million pounds down by the last race. He managed to persuade one of the major bookmakers to take a bet of £250,000 on a horse called Kris, priced even money.
This time, his horse won by a short head, after a 5-minute wait as they magnified the photo finish.
Once again, he didn't turn a hair. There was no sign of emotion.
Now he cuts the grass and prunes the rose bushes for the old ladies for a cup of tea and biscuit.
Note: I have no evidence this story is true.