January 20th, 1980. This is when I lost my first official bet to an adult. He was our neighbor and friend. He also knew how to take advantage of a 7 year old.
Bill was a friendly man. He was also voraciously serious about gambling, fishing and chocolate. We’ll get back to that.
Walking over to his house at the age of seven, I offered him a wager. I placed money I didn’t have on a Super Bowl game: The Los Angelas Rams vs. the Pittsburg Steelers. I took the Rams and lost. Our bet was a candy bar.
Convinced he was past posting, thinking he’d seen the game before it was televised, I tried to call him on that. Ultimately, I was wrong, and further, even worse, I was forced to ask my father for a loan. Their were two options for me. He could take me behind the chicken coop and give me a whooping or I could clean his room. My old man wasn’t in favor of butt whooping so he convinced me to clean his room. I did, and he gave me a dollar. My old man and I were square, but I still had to travel almost three blocks to purchase the candy bar, which was happily refused but respected by our neighbor.
Fast forward to 2019, February, 3rd. I lost a bet to my brother,Tom. I bet on the Los Angelas Rams against the Patriots. Instead of a candy bar, I owe him twenty dollars. Times are heavy and so is inflation. The money I owe him will pay his dues for March Madness.
If I didn’t pay him, he’d be going all around Chicago and telling people I was a welch. I wouldn’t able to get a game of jacks. (of course, that’s from The Sting)
Suckered at the age of seven and forty seven. Guilty as charged. O and two barbecue, I will never bet on the Rams again.
It’s funny a Twix bar comes in a package of two.