The Big Short

This is an excerpt from Michael Lewis' upcoming book, The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine. It is from Vanity Fair's April issue. The entire piece is worth the read but I want to highlight a small part that details the ridiculousness of the sell-side, especially when it comes to marking positions for month-end (from personal experience, this is one of the most frustrating things to deal with when you are on the other side of the trade and you have a know-nothing sell-side trader trying to make his monthly P&L look better for his boss):

In the spring of 2007, something changed—though at first it was hard to see what it was. On June 14, the pair of subprime-mortgage-bond hedge funds effectively owned by Bear Stearns were in freefall. In the ensuing two weeks, the publicly traded index of triple-B-rated subprime-mortgage bonds fell by nearly 20 percent. Just then Goldman Sachs appeared to Burry to be experiencing a nervous breakdown. His biggest positions were with Goldman, and Goldman was newly unable, or unwilling, to determine the value of those positions, and so could not say how much collateral should be shifted back and forth. On Friday, June 15, Burry’s Goldman Sachs saleswoman, Veronica Grinstein, vanished. He called and e-mailed her, but she didn’t respond until late the following Monday—to tell him that she was “out for the day.”

“This is a recurrent theme whenever the market moves our way,” wrote Burry. “People get sick, people are off for unspecified reasons.”

On June 20, Grinstein finally returned to tell him that Goldman Sachs had experienced “systems failure.”

That was funny, Burry replied, because Morgan Stanley had said more or less the same thing. And his salesman at Bank of America claimed they’d had a “power outage.”

“I viewed these ‘systems problems’ as excuses for buying time to sort out a mess behind the scenes,” he said. The Goldman saleswoman made a weak effort to claim that, even as the index of subprime-mortgage bonds collapsed, the market for insuring them hadn’t budged. But she did it from her cell phone, rather than the office line. (Grinstein didn’t respond to e-mail and phone requests for comment.)

They were caving. All of them. At the end of every month, for nearly two years, Burry had watched Wall Street traders mark his positions against him. That is, at the end of every month his bets against subprime bonds were mysteriously less valuable. The end of every month also happened to be when Wall Street traders sent their profit-and-loss statements to their managers and risk managers. On June 29, Burry received a note from his Morgan Stanley salesman, Art Ringness, saying that Morgan Stanley now wanted to make sure that “the marks are fair.” The next day, Goldman followed suit. It was the first time in two years that Goldman Sachs had not moved the trade against him at the end of the month. “That was the first time they moved our marks accurately,” he notes, “because they were getting in on the trade themselves.” The market was finally accepting the diagnosis of its own disorder.

It was precisely the moment he had told his investors, back in the summer of 2005, that they only needed to wait for. Crappy mortgages worth nearly $400 billion were resetting from their teaser rates to new, higher rates. By the end of July his marks were moving rapidly in his favor—and he was reading about the genius of people like John Paulson, who had come to the trade a year after he had. The Bloomberg News service ran an article about the few people who appeared to have seen the catastrophe coming. Only one worked as a bond trader inside a big Wall Street firm: a formerly obscure asset-backed-bond trader at Deutsche Bank named Greg Lippmann. The investor most conspicuously absent from the Bloomberg News article—one who had made $100 million for himself and $725 million for his investors—sat alone in his office, in Cupertino, California. By June 30, 2008, any investor who had stuck with Scion Capital from its beginning, on November 1, 2000, had a gain, after fees and expenses, of 489.34 percent. (The gross gain of the fund had been 726 percent.) Over the same period the S&P 500 returned just a bit more than 2 percent.

Michael Burry clipped the Bloomberg article and e-mailed it around the office with a note: “Lippmann is the guy that essentially took my idea and ran with it. To his credit.” His own investors, whose money he was doubling and more, said little. There came no apologies, and no gratitude. “Nobody came back and said, ‘Yeah, you were right,’” he said. “It was very quiet. It was extremely quiet.”