Fifteen years are a long time to avoid one person when it comes to making bets…especially when you like to bet on just about everything. But it isn’t like I never bet with Soop. We had plenty of gambling going on over these last 15 years…I just avoided sports wagers. There is one night in Superbowl Sunday where I made out like a bandit. It was a night where, with the help of some L-C-R and a great night of poker, I went from no cash to a little over $600 when I left…but that is a story for another time.
This story is about a very hot Sunday a couple of weeks back. Deb and I were invited to attend the Legg Mason Tennis Classic by Soop and Red. My immediate reaction was to turn down the offer as I hadn’t been back there since the Agassi Debacle of the late 90s. But when Red informed us that we would be in her suite I changed my mind pretty quickly. Drinking free and sitting in the air conditioning while at an outdoor sporting event will get me every time.
But Soop would not let the opportunity pass by where he could make fun of me. He immediately started sending me texts to bring cash so that we could bet. I politely told him to go fuck himself and that there was no way I was going to bet with him ever again. EVER. But he kept calling me a wuss (and other choice names) to try to badger me into betting and I think he knew that if there ever was a time to get me again it would be at this particular venue. I know he was thinking that there was no way I could pass up trying to get some redemption.
He was right.
It was oppressively hot that day and we were all grateful to have the air-conditioned suite in which we could lounge. The first match of the day was almost over when we arrived and people started trickling in throughout. By the time the second set of competitors were making their way to the court the suite was packed and we were on our 3rd or 4th drink. When I saw them starting to warm up I made up my mind that I was going to bet today.
I would love to say that it was because I took out my phone and quickly looked up the players to find out who was better. I would love to say that as I watched them warming up I noticed that one of them was clearly the superior athlete. I would even be happy with telling you that I noticed one of them was hobbling around a bit. But none of those came into play. Like the lucky chick from accounting that makes her picks in the weekly Football pool based on the “cuteness” of the uniforms…I went with wardrobe choice as my deciding factor.
You know what I mean because every office in the world has that woman. No matter how much research you do each week of the football season she would place higher than you at least a few times during the season and usually come away a winner at least once. And all she did was look at uniforms and decided that she liked the pretty Bengals helmet over the ugly Colts one. Yep, I used the tried and true method that has been my nemesis for years to try to break my curse. The guy I picked to win (Mat0sevic) was wearing a white shirt while his opponent (Delic) was wearing a black one.
There was at least some reasoning here though. The match was starting at 1 in the afternoon and the sun was mercilessly beating down on center court. i figured that by the second set the guy in the black shirt was going to be about to drop from heat exhaustion. Who wears a black shirt to run around in the sun for a couple of hours in the middle of July? That dude was going to melt. I was sure of it.
About an hour later, as we were sitting there watching the first set tie break, I wasn’t so confident. The whole first set was very evenly matched. Both guys held serve throughout and no one appeared to have the advantage. The only thing keeping me going was watching the “black” guy constantly going to the ball girl for the towel to mop up all the sweat that was streaming from him.
I jumped out of my seat and started cheering wildly when my guy made the point that ended the first set. The sense of relief that I felt when my guy, the “white” guy, pulled out the first set was indescribable. I did start to talk a little shit to Soop though because I was starting to feel good about this bet. And it had been a long time since I had a chance to do that.
The second set started off with more of the same. Both guys held their serves through the first 6 games and the second set was tied at 3. But then everything changed when my guy broke the server of the “black” guy…finally. Then he held serve to go up 5-3 and I knew the match was over.
Both players held their serve to finish out the match and my guy won.
MY. GUY. WON!!
And just like that…after 15 years 8 months and 7 days…the curse was broken.
So what that it was broken on a shitty bet based on clothing choices. Broken is broken. The fear of betting against Soop is gone.
Now, what can we bet on next?