Bet Stories

I love bet stories. They often have an insider's perspective that only other veteran gamblers can fully appreciate. They can be disastrous and funny at the same time, concerning everything from bad beats to near misses to insights into human nature. If you gamble long enough, you'll surely collect stories of your own. Here are a few of mine...

The Chargers, Man?

There was a fellow called Limpy who used to hang out at the Stardust sportsbook on Sundays to watch NFL football. Each and every Sunday, Limpy would risk precisely $20 on a 10-team NFL parlay card bet. (A 10-team parlay card at that time paid 850-for-one, making Limpy a $17,000 winner if he won.)

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 sportsbooks, 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.

Good luck smiled at us, 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, man?!...How the hell could you pick the Chargers?!"

Which Score?

We were at Las Vegas watching the closing seconds of a late NFL game between the Denver Broncos and Seattle Seahawks. The point spread winner of the game had long since been decided. The underdog Seahawks had a commanding lead, 28-14, and had the game won outright. My brother and I were still interested, however, because we were both on the 'under' bet. The over/under line on the game was 48 1/2 points.

Of course, with the score 28-14 and time running out, we seemed to be in good shape, having bet the game 'under' 48 1/2 points. Trouble was, Denver and their Super quarterback John Elway had the ball, and they were driving against Seattle's dreaded "prevent defense." The Seahawks, meanwhile, had already begun to celebrate their unexpected victory. It was a situation very familiar to over/under bettors.

While we were watching the game, a fellow came wandering up from the casino area and began watching the game with us. He'd probably noticed our interest in the game and wondered what was going on.

After watching a while, this fellow asked my friend, "What's the score?"

Without missing a beat and without moving his eyes from the screen answered abruptly, "Forty-two."

(...The Broncos went on to score, by the way, losing 28-21 and beating us by half a point.)

The Ex-Gambler

In Week Eleven of the 1995 NFL season, the San Francisco 49ers were 9-point underdogs at Dallas.

I was in line to place a bet at the Mirage sportsbook in Las Vegas. The fellow ahead of me finished placing a bet, stepped aside, and paused to put his ticket in his wallet. A woman who had to be this guy's wife stepped up and confronted him. She was scowling, angry, and obviously disapproved of his buying the ticket. She hissed sarcastically, "After last week, I thought you were all finished bet on football."

The fellow thought for a moment, unconsciously stroked his wallet, and answered, "I'm getting the 49ers plus nine points... You can't call that bet."

(...Sure enough, the 49ers beat the Cowboys outright, 38-20.)