Football Gambling Stories
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“The Chargers, J. R.?” |
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Trouble was, Limpy never began the day with a clue as to which ten teams he liked. To decide which teams to bet on, he developed a regular group of professional-level handicappers from whom he’d prompt advice. Limpy valued these handicappers’ opinions, and he’d finally form his own opinions from what they had to say.
I was one of those honored advice-givers. In those days, the Stardust was one of my favorite sportbooks, and I could easily be found at my favorite station, watching for line moves. Every Sunday, sooner or later, here would come Limpy, and he’d ask me which teams I thought he should put on his ten-banger. I always took the time to do my best for Limpy, even though I discouraged his ten-teamers. The payoff actually wasn’t all that bad, but the wins were too far apart.
As luck would have it, I got on a pretty good streak for a week or two - (or, at least, Limpy perceived me to be on a good roll) - and finally one Sunday Limpy decided I should have the honor of picking all ten of his bets.
So I did.
Whaddayouknow, the first six games were early games, and all six teams won. Then, in the later games, three of the remaining four games were very early blowouts in Limpy’s favor.
Wow. Limpy was coming unglued. He was giggly and excited, talky and nervous. His hands were trembling and he was sweating and he kept pacing back and forth, chain smoking and shouting orders at the various television screens. He’d sit, he’d stand, he’d pace, he’d sit, he’d recheck the total amount he planned to win, he’d order another Mountain Dew from the cocktail waitress and pace some more...
Sure enough, the three blowouts went on to win, making nine of the ten games winners. My picks were 9-0, leaving one game still in the air, the Chargers -3 at home against the Raiders.
The Raiders finally beat us, 12 - 7. Limpy was crushed. Another losing Sunday. Another $20 lost and gone. Another $17,000 winning ticket down the drain. He sat slumped in his chair with his head bowed, sullen and withdrawn.
I approached him to express my sympathy, and put a hand on his shoulder. He angrily swatted away my hand, outraged at how stupid I was, and shouted, "The Chargers, J. R.?!...How the hell could you pick the Chargers?!"
This gambling story courtesy of: ProfessionalGambler.com
