Betting Big

Published in the Desert Valley Times
August 23, 2005

I’m not much of a gambler.
It’s not a religious matter, or an ethical issue.
I simply suck at it.
I feel pretty sure that, if I were to bet $5 that the sun was going to rise tomorrow morning, it would be the day of a solar eclipse.
When I make a rare visit to one of the local casinos for a few hands of blackjack, I never expect to walk out with any money in my pockets.
That’s one of the few gaming speculations where I’m consistently correct.
And I don’t consider it gambling when I drop a few dollars into the slot machines while waiting in line for the buffet.
I consider it a donation to help send poor, underprivileged casino owners to summer camp in the Bahamas.
Unfortunately, the IRS doesn’t see it that way, so I don’t even get the deduction.
When it comes to sports wagers, I’m particularly inept.
At the greyhound track, I could bet on the rabbit every race and still manage to go broke.
The only way I could make any money betting on football would be to charge $5 to every New England fan I know if I just promised never to bet on the Patriots.
You’ve heard of the Midas touch?
I have the antidote.
It’s called the “Morris touch.”
If I were to bet ten bucks on the Philadelphia Eagles beating Mesquite’s fourth-grade youth football team, I feel pretty confident the Baby Bulldogs would wind up on the heavy end of a 34-20 score.
(It’s not as unbalanced a contest as you might think. Our team would have a starting lineup of nine-year-olds, while the Eagles would have Terrell Owens.)
And don’t talk to me about “the spread.”
The only time I get “the spread” right is when it involves cream cheese and a bagel.
I’m pretty knowledgeable about football (although a certain Iggles fan who wrote in last year might dispute that), but when it comes time to put my small money where my big mouth is, I can never seem to get it right.
Hence, the Morris touch.
Fortunately, I work for the newspaper, so I don’t have much money available for gambling.
Or eating, for that matter.
Since I haven’t found a bookie willing to accept El Rancho coupons on the Packers-Bears game, I’ll have to be satisfied with knowing how much money I save each week by being too broke to go broke.
So I’ll continue my life’s history of being out of sync with my environment.
I grew up in Maryland, the seafood capital of the world and the home of Maryland blue crabs, but didn’t like seafood.
I spent 16 years on the west coast of Florida, living six minutes away from the Gulf of Mexico, and never went to the beach.
And now I live in Nevada, where gambling is a way of life, unable to make the right call in a game between Cleveland and the Steelers.
For those who want to use the “Morris touch” to their advantage, the Browns play in Pittsburgh on Nov. 13.
I’m setting aside 10% of my salary for the next 11 weeks so I can bet $5 on the Steelers.
Browns fans should wager accordingly.
I would recommend that you get your bets in early, before the local sports books find out which way I’m leaning and Cleveland becomes the odds-on favorite.