Tag Archives: football

Twix and Six

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Starting gambling at the tender age of six, I knew there was more than money to quench one’s wallet, or lack there of.  I had no wallet, let alone money, but I longed for the almighty Twix candy bar.  Making a wager for a candy bar was worth the risk of receiving a spanking for gambling a dollar I didn’t possess.  However,  I knew my father was good for the buck if I lost a bet….as long as I made his bed and dusted the house.

In 1979, prior to the Super Bowl, I marched over to our neighbor’s house and made a wager with the father of some of our great friends.  He knew I loved football, and he knew I was six, but he also knew I liked chocolate more than money.  Additionally, he clearly knew I was ignorant.

Fortunately, he and my father were good friends, so he knew I was solid for the dollar if I lost.  If I won, I knew he was solid for the Twix.  This was hardcore Locust Street gambling.

The Pittsburg Steelers ( the steel curtain) were playing the Los Angeles Rams.  The Steelers won and I lost.  I was good for the dollar after making Dad’s bed while dusting a five thousand square foot house.

One week later, there was a Twix candy bar lying on our porch.  My father required that I  return the Twix to our neighbor, as a bet is a bet and you have to stand tall (or short) regarding how shrewd or dimwitted your bet may be.  Reluctantly, I did return the Twix, yet our delightful neighbor denied he had purchased it for me.  It further solidified my father’s friendship with our neighbor.  I still have the Twix. I keep it in my glove compartment.  That’s B.S…I crammed that cookie caramel chocolate finger sandwich in my mouth on his porch like it was my last supper.

Other than friendly bets, I don’t gamble anymore.

 

 

Theology of Sports

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Alright, I promised myself I wouldn’t write about this subject because it is becoming as boring and intriguing as Charlie Sheen.  Charlie Sheen isn’t winning.  Tim Tebow is.  Who is this God he’s praying to and where can I rotary dial his number?  Other than finding me a wonderful bride, He hasn’t answered a Hell of a lot of my phone calls.  I should learn how to text Him.

You know who is losing?  Me.  I’ve lost more money than I have ever made betting against that guy.  Crud.  Now, I find myself rooting for him, somehow believing in a different God or Jesus I still haven’t met yet.  I don’t even know what his denomination is, but it seems to be working.  Thinking it may be Seventh Day Adventist, I gave up pork one day.  That didn’t work.  I prayed for my wife and I to not have an argument on that day.  We did, and it was about chewing gum with your mouth open.  I gave up on that religion.  I then moved on to the Mormon belief seeking some form of salvation.  So, it seemed appropriate to give up drinking for that day.  Didn’t work.  My wife and I had another argument about UPS Vs. Fed Ex.  These were important discussions.

In my youth, I learned about this crazy religion  known as Catholicism.  This required you to attend church on Sundays.  It also allowed you to drink, fight, swear, and then feel sorry about what you did last week, thus making everything A OK.   It seemed the perfect match for me.

However, believing in this religion, I also questioned it.  I didn’t enjoy singing, so I would ask why I was forced to sing the Lord’s Prayer during the service, rather than reciting it with conviction.  Not receiving a valid answer, I just annoyed fellow parishioners with my God Awful voice.

As a boy loving football, I prayed for three items on Sunday.  And, I’m being serious.  I prayed for those less fortunate, I prayed for my family, and I prayed so desperately for the Priest to keep the sermon short so I could make it home to watch the Seahawks, or the Bears at 10 o’clock that morning, because I HAD to watch every second of those games while my dad was making waffles.  The Seahawks and the Bears made me question my faith.  The waffles were so good, it made me think, “Maybe there is a God”.

Continuing my faith in the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit, I placed myself in an awkward situation during a baseball game.  I was facing a left handed pitcher in college who threw upwards of nine thousand miles per hour according to my plastic helmet and slow bat speed.  Fearing for my health, and not wishing to embarrass myself in front of girls who dig ballplayers, I stepped out of the batter’s box, and gave myself the sign of the cross.  The umpire said and did something very memorable that day.  He stopped the game and asked me to step out of the batter’s box.  This was unusual, but, since I knew this man, I sort of sensed what was going to come out of his mouth, other than “Strike Three!”  He said, “Did you just make the sign of the cross in the middle of a game”.  I said, “yeah”.  He replied, “God ain’t whatchin this game…..He’s got better things to do”.  I proceeded to strike out, but went on to have a terrific season praying for others, and my head instead of a base hit.

Whatever Tim Tebow is doing seems to be working, and I wish him the best, unless I am betting against him……..and evidently someone from above who is taking a break from disease and catastrophe to watch that remarkable man win games on Sunday, well, I wish him or her the best as well.  Hell, He or She can watch the game with me, as long as they like chicken wings.  I’ll even buy.  It will be my moment of tithing.

Roll Tithing,

Ben

Heisman Upsets (friendly sibling rivalries)

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There is a person in my family who owes me 100 fake dollars on a bet he lost.  I haven’t heard from him since we made the fake bet.  That was 20 some odd hours ago.  You may be thinking, “What in the hell is a fake bet”?   Actually, it’s merely a friendly bet.  Since betting is illegal in certain areas, and neither of us have ever crossed the law, we often make wagers in a magical world filled with Monopoly money and Leprechauns. We are also quite competitive, so actual forms of currency don’t apply.  We just want to win.  The phone call conceding  the bet is sufficient.  It makes one of us sleep well at night knowing the older or younger brother has lost confidence.  That’s invaluable in any relationship:  making ones you love lose confidence.

Allow me to provide a lesson regarding gambling.  Using words and phrases such as, “Guarantee”, “Lock”, or “Stone Cold Lock” usually result in you being in the backseat of the gambling God of cars.  Sometimes, you may find yourself  in the trunk.   I know, I’ve been there many times, figuratively.  This family member has placed me there many times, but yesterday’s Heisman bet was certainly a guarantee for my brother.  He sealed his destiny with some of his statements, and lost, and Luck certainly wasn’t in his corner.

Be careful what you “guarantee”.  Most importantly, bet on yourself.  That’s the only only one you can truly count on……other than cards.

Ben

PGS: (post gambling syndrome)  If one of my siblings has any contact with a man named M. Thew, tell him this is dedicated to him.  Also, tell him to help me get the bookies off my tarnished bottom.

Fiascos and Debacles

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The words fiasco and debacle are terrific words.  However, they sometimes can be used haphazardly in certain situations.  Never actually being aware of how strong these words are, I am guilty of abusing them without acknowledging their official meanings.  Throughout the last two weeks, I have tossed these words out of my mouth like a salad shooter or balls exiting a pitching machine.  I feel as though I’ve been unfair and wish to apologize to these words.  This is not easy……I’ve never had to do this before.  Here it goes:  Sorry, Mr.and Mrs. Fiasco.  Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Debacle.  That hurt, but now I feel a little better.

Official Ridiculous Definitions: Fiasco: “a complete ridiculous failure”.

Debacle: “a crushing defeat” or 2, “a ruinous collapse”.

My father used to watch Monday Night Football with us and was agitated with words so commonly used from commentators such as “unbelievable” and “incredible”.  A wide receiver catching a ball across the field is not incredible or unbelievable when it occurs several times a game.  A talented and wonderful play…..yes, but not incredible or unbelievable.  Let’s save those terms for someone who jumps off the top of the Empire State Building without a parachute, lands on his or her feet without a scratch, and then heads for some good Italian food.  That’s both unbelievable and incredible.

Let me explain where this may or may not be going.  My wife and I were assisting the move of one of our dear friends moving from Spokane, Washington to Los Angeles, California.  Since we reside in Seattle, Washington and my friend lived in Spokane, our only choice was to facilitate communication between the moving company and our friend while he painstakingly placed all of his precious belongings in packages, boxes and bags. (I stole that line from my man, Dr. Suess……Grinch).  It  wasn’t an easy task for all of us, but I can’t really consider it a fiasco or debacle.  If he doesn’t arrive safely in LA, then we may choose such words.  Otherwise, it was simply a boiling mess.  I don’t believe it was a ruinous collapse, crushing defeat, or a complete failure, it was simply a time to help clean up.

The next time I complain and moan about vacuuming our dog’s hair, I will refrain from using the phrases, “This is a (bleeping) fiasco”.  Or, “What a (bleeping) debacle”.  I’ll merely yank the remaining hairs off the top of my head, and think, “This is a mess”.

Those messes can be easily cleaned up without punching a fist through a wall.  I’m old enough and wise enough to know that just costs me more money and, more importantly, cell phones and remote controls.

Godspeed to my friend…..I hope he makes it