by Patrick Kaykes
Gambling is a bad habit. More than a bad habit. More like a vice. He got that now. It shouldn't have had to come to this, his reddened ass hanging out for anyone to see, for him to get it through his head. Or maybe it did have to come to this for him to see the light.
Steve always thought he was pretty good at picking the winners of football games. He had played a little ball in high school, though if truth be told, as the third string wide receiver on a team which ran the ball 80% of the time, he didn't really play in high school - mostly, he sat on the bench and watched others play. It wouldn't be much of an exaggeration to say that the only difference between him and someone watching in the stands was that he had a better seat.
Still though, he was on the team, so he felt he knew more about football than the average fan. His first foray into gambling was also in high school. One of his classmates was running those football betting sheets which were popular in the 1970s and 1980s. All the college and pro games were listed, along with the point spread on each game. All Steve had to do was to pick the winners of at least 4 games against the point spread without any losses. The minimum bet was $10.00 for the sheet, and the odds were 4 to 1, so if he won all 4 games, he made $40.00. Not bad for a HS student back in those days.
He played those sheets and won three weeks in a row, making $120.00. From that point on, he always thought his betting acumen was, in his own words, "better than most" ... pun definitely intended.
He played through the years, mostly when he was still single. He usually bet pro football games, though occasionally he would foray into the World Series, or the odd college basketball game during March Madness. He lost more than he won, but not by too much; by his own estimate, most of his losses were not because he chose badly, but because of some uncommon event in the game. "If only he hadn't fumbled on that drive," he complained. "We would have won if he hadn't thrown that last minute interception. If he hadn't gotten hurt on the second play of the game, I know we would have won that game," he lamented. Typical of most gamblers, the fault was never his; it was some unseen force which turned the hand of fate against him.
Once Steve got married to Jennifer, his gambling habit fell by the wayside. Money was an issue, as it is with many newlyweds - plus Jennifer knew he gambled, and made it clear she didn't like it. So for the most part he stopped gambling, though he occasionally managed to get in on part of the action when a friend would bet on a game. "Just keeping it interesting," he would say, meaning that laying down some money gave him a more than a casual rooting interest in the game he was watching.
After five years of marriage, money was less of an issue. Jen and Steve were not rich, but they had just bought a house, and though they had a large mortgage, they were financially stable. Jen had a good job working with computers, and Steve worked as a supervisor in a government housing office. Though Jen made a little more, they both made decent money. Because of this, Steve thought he could begin to bet the games again. He found that he missed it, missed the action, missed being right about his bets, missed winning. With typical bettor's blindness, he didn't see that he was hooked on it, that he lost more and more often. He always thought that the next winning bet would make up for the previous three losses.
The only saving grace was that Steve usually didn't bet too much on any one game. $50 here, maybe $100.00 there; all in all, he was still a small time bettor. But the small bets added up, and it put a slight dent in Steve and Jen's savings. Not so much so that Jen would know it if she casually glanced through their accounts, but enough so that she would notice if she studied them a little. But because Steve handled most of their finances, Jen didn't see it happening. And Steve didn't tell her about it - in fact, he didn't tell her that he had begun to bet games again at all. He didn't think it was worth getting her upset at what he considered to be harmless fun.
Steve established an internet account to bet the games; these accounts required the use of a credit card, which Steve had provided. So he made sure to be the first to get that credit card bill every month, and paid it off without Jen seeing it.
Now it was almost the end of the football season, and Steve was on a losing streak. He had lost three out of four games on Wild Card weekend, and lost all four games in the divisional round.
He was down about $500 in all - not that much money in the whole scheme of things, but a lot to lose in just two weeks. Now there were two games left before the Super Bowl: the two championship games. He decided he didn't want to bet on the AFC game, since he didn't particularly care for either team involved. But he had a great feeling on the NFC game, and decided he would make his $500 back by betting it all.
He went online to his normal betting site, and plugged in his password. The site had changed in appearance from the week before; it was a little more glossy, or something. They probably used my losses to pay for the upgrade, Steve thought ruefully. He looked at the point spread, and felt even more confident. The Giants were 3 point underdogs to the Cowboys, and Steve knew the Cowboys were by far the better team. Plus they were playing in Dallas, where the Boys almost never lost. Had Steve been handicapping this game, he would have made the Cowboys a 7 or 8 point favorite. So to him, it was a no brainer. He backed the Cowboys, gave the 3 points (which meant the Cowboys had to win the game by 4 or more points in order for him to win) and plunked his $500 down.
At least, he thought he did. Which would have been fine - great even - had they won. But they didn't, and Steve lost again.
Despite knowing he had just lost $500, and a three week total of $1,000, Steve was only slightly depressed. He figured he would have to work some overtime at work to make up for some of the losses (and to make enough money so that he could bet the Super Bowl in two weeks). Most importantly, he had to make absolutely sure he got hold of that credit card bill before Jen did.
He came home from work that Monday to find Jen waiting for him at home. That in itself was unusual - she usually worked later than he did. Plus, she was very, very angry, and she was usually the calmest of people.
"What's the matter, Jen?"
"What's the matter?" she fumed. "I'll tell you what the matter is, Steve. I got a call from our credit card company today, wondering if I'd authorized a charge on our account. So naturally, I asked who the charge was from. They told me it was the 'Internet Subscribers Service.' I had no idea what that was, and I told them so. I said that maybe my husband had subscribed to a magazine or something. You know what they told me? Their exact words?"
"'Well, Ma'am, if that's the case, your husband has the most expensive reading tastes I've ever seen. Because the charge is for $50.000.' I almost fainted. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Steve was almost as surprised as Jen. He had no idea what the $50,000 was for. But he did know what the Internet Subscriber's Service was. It was the deliberately vague name of his betting site. So he tried to cover it up. "Jen, I have no idea what that charge is. It probably is something I subscribed to, but the $50,000 is completely ridiculous. Let me call them and figure it all out. I'm sure it's an error on their part," he said shakily.
Jen picked up some papers from the sofa. "I already called them, you jerk, so shut up. Just shut up. You bet $50,000 on the football game yesterday, you moron. $50,000! On a football game? Are you completely out of your mind?"
Caught in a lie about betting, Steve confessed. "OK, Jen, I'm sorry, I did bet on the game yesterday, but I only bet $500.00, not $50,000." Steve heard that coming out of his mouth, and realized that it didn't help matters too much. The fact remained - he had still bet a nice sum of money on the game, deliberately keeping it from Jen.
"Well, that's nice to hear, that you 'only' bet $500," Jen said sarcastically. "Yes, that makes it all better. Well, I have bad news for you buster, you actually did bet $50,000. When I called them I was so upset, they offered to send me a copy of what you sent in. Here it is. Read it and weep."
Steve looked at the paper in front of him - sure enough, it showed that he actually bet $50,000, and not $500. He almost fell over from the shock. He had apparently forgotten to put in the decimal point, and his 500 turned into 50000, but with a dollar sign in front of it.
He had no idea how that had happened - maybe it was the new website design. But he also knew there was no way to say to the website owners "Oops, I meant to only bet $500." He was stuck with his $50.000 loss.
"Jen, I'm sorry, really I am. I didn't mean to bet ... I mean, I only meant to bet $500. I know that's not right either, but I would never bet $50,000 of our money on anything."
"Yeah, well that doesn't help much does it? We're still out $50.000, and how are we going pay that, and pay the mortgage too? We might lose the house -all because you can't stop betting!"
Jen walked out of the room, too upset to continue the conversation.
Two days later, Jen had calmed down a bit. Steve was extraordinarily glad about that. He really was sorry about the money, and had no idea how he would pay it, other than to take out a loan on their home's equity. But he dreaded bringing it up to Jen, since he thought it might set her off again. And rightfully so. How could he have been so stupid?
Luckily, Jen brought it up to him over dinner.
"Look, Steve, I'm still very upset over your betting on that stupid game."
"Jen, hon, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, I'll try to make it up to you, I'll try ..."
"Keep quiet for a minute, and let me talk," Jen interrupted. "I don't know how you thought you were going to get the money to pay for your mistake. I don't even know IF you've thought about it. But I have. I've asked my parents to loan us the money to pay for the bet. It was very embarrassing to go to them. You know how independent I am, how I hate to ask them for anything, especially since they were nice enough to give us a substantial down payment for this very house as a wedding gift. But I swallowed my pride and did it. They will loan us the money. I feel completely humiliated, but I took care of it."
Steve knew it was selfish, and he didn't want to ask, but he had to know, so ask he did. "Did you, er, I mean, did they ask you what it was for? Did you, um, tell them about the, um, mistake I made?"
Jen's eyes flashed with annoyance. She bit each word off her tongue before she said it, saying each word individually, as opposed to it all being one sentence. "No ... Steve ... I ... did NOT ... tell ... them ... about ... your ... um ... mistake," she replied. "I did not tell them that you had lost $50,000 on a football game. I did not tell them that you had lied to me, and then tried to cover it up. I did not tell them anything like that. That would have been even more embarrassing for me. No, I told them we made a bad investment. Luckily, they didn't pursue it beyond that."
Steve looked down, ashamed. "Thank you, Jen. I'm really sorry."
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