Beginning in eighth grade I discovered a personal talent of being able to understand a “Vegas Line”. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a professional gambler. I did, however, learn to take advantage of my knowledge of sports. You see, in junior high, most kids are just beginning to get into sports. Some of them have their favorite sports team that they probably followed because their fathers followed the same team. They really loved these teams and would talk as if they were “number one” or the “champs”. This was perfect for someone to take advantage of if they knew who a person’s favorite team was. That is where I fit in.
I was a sports junkie ever since the day I could bounce a ball. I loved to play and watch every sport. Since the age of 10 I was even paying attention the statistics of teams and individual players from those teams. I knew every starting lineup and what their ranks were versus the other teams. I think it probably annoyed some people when conversations turned to sports and I had a little too much to offer. Probably why my wife never brings up sports. Interesting....
Anyhow, I had been selling NFL pencils the year before eighth grade and this came in quite handy, as I knew precisely which teams most of the boys liked. I would casually strike up a conversation with someone regarding his or her team’s upcoming Sunday game. While doing this I learned that without fail, they would start telling me how their team was going to win. Sometimes I would have to agree with them, as some of the favorite teams were actually good teams. However most of the time I would laugh because there was almost no chance for some of their teams to win on that particular week. Luckily I was smart enough to know that my own favorite teams were not going to win every singe game.
Gradually I would start doing some friendly bets just straight up that their teams would lose. Easily ninety percent of the time I would win this friendly bet. So I started to bet with something at stake. I learned quickly that I could give point spreads to those who knew a little about how good their teams’ opponents were. They were however still firm in their bets for their teams rather than against.
I don’t know exactly what my winning percentage was but I was winning at a rate that kept my weekly expenses paid. More and more people would be searching me out on Thursday and Friday of each week to bet on their teams. Eventually I had so many bets each week that I commissioned a couple of football players, whom I was good friends with, to help me with the payouts and collections. This was greatly needed because there were much more collections than payouts. Everyone was pretty good about paying up with my two associates searching him or her out on Tuesday mornings. We let them sweat it out until Tuesday because we still had bets riding on the Monday Night Football Game.
By the end of my ninth grade year at Alameda Jr. High I was bringing home between $700 and $900 each month during the NFL football season. Combined with my paper routes and the candy and pencil sales I was making a pretty good living. I don’t know how much my parents were making at the time but I have a feeling that we were probably bringing home similar incomes.
All was well and good until one day when I was called into the vice-principal’s office. Now mind you, I was never a troublemaker, thus I had zero experience with being sent to the “office”. Everyone I had ever known that was sent to the vice-principal’s office came out in a very subdued mood compared to the way they were before they went in.
All of this knowledge had me shaking where I stood as I waited my turn outside the vice-principal’s door. The door opened and an eighth grade boy I was familiar with walked out. His head was down and I think he might have been crying. This didn’t help my own unstable emotional state.
“Come on in Mr. Hallenberger”. Mr. Worley said, waking me from my gloomy stupor.
Mr. Worley was a large man. He seemed even larger standing beside his desk in that small office. Needless to say I was intimidated and scared.
“You’re a good kid, Horace, and because you’re a good kid I was somewhat befuddled when I found out about your little gambling ring.”
I just about fell over. His reference to “gambling ring” sounded criminal. My mind began to race. Did I commit a crime? If I was scared when I came into his office, I was terrified now.
Mr. Anderson sensed my fear and came around and put his big hand on my shoulder. “I cannot tell you what you can and can’t do off of school grounds, but on school grounds, gambling is not allowed,” he said. “I know you did not know this which is why I am giving you a warning” he continued, “I will not be able to be so lenient if we should meet like this again.”
I believe he could actually see the blood flow back into my face as the relief captured me. As I left his office he had one last comment. “What’s the spread on the Cowboys game this week?” For a moment I thought he was serious and I contemplated answering him. Then he slapped me on the back, smiled and returned to his desk. Though I smiled back at him, I wasn’t all that amused at his sense of humor.
That was the last time I operated an organized “gambling ring”. Actually, I haven't gambled since. It just isn't worth it to me to end up on the wrong end of the law. I figured that if it was not allowed on school grounds then it probably was not a good thing to do period.
That's OK because I'm a positive thinker and I can find other ways to find financial success. What, you don't believe me. Are you willing to bet on it? :)
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