I seldom make bets. In fact, the last big one I made was in 1988. It involved my son Nick- then aged eight- and the World Series.
In the spring of that year, I had flown out to Oakland, California. I was playing on an old pal’s trivia team at the King’s X bar.
Bar Stool Sidebar: The King’s X was a famous watering hole. Sadly, it was sold in 2005 and has become a Tiki bar. But up to then, it was known for two things- great trivia players and as the birth place of fantasy football.
Back in 1988, I wasn’t into fantasy football but I did play in an exciting trivia tournament in the joint. Then we followed this up by taking part in an entertaining (at least to us team members) radio interview gig.
And while I was in Oakland, the new baseball season had just started. Jose Canseco was THE superstar of the Oakland Athletics. (Hard to believe now, I know, but that was his year of his “triple triple.” Before he got permanently tarnished and lost his reputation- and later his finger.)
And when I came back, I had morphed into a serious Oakland A’s fan.
So now, home in Winnetka, I started following the team.
At precisely the same time in the season, my eight year old’s big league baseball affections landed on the Los Angeles Dodgers. Nick had gotten badly bitten by the skateboard bug and had subsequently fallen hard for all things California.
To that end, he decided to root for this faraway club. He became a rabid Dodgers fan.
So here we were, two hometown Winnetkans enthusiastically cheering on two California clubs.
Neither one of us envisioned that these would be the teams destined to meet in the October Classic.
But against all odds, Nick and I found our teams pitted against each other in the 1988 World Series.
There was only one thing to do.
“Hey, Dude,*** do you want to make a bet?” asked my son, Nick (The Greek.)
***My name change from “Mom” to “Dude” came in with the skateboard.
The gauntlet had been thrown. Of course I rose to Nick’s challenge. But there was one sticking point.
Nick never had any money. Ever.
He went through it like a hot knife through butter. I- sure of the magic and invincibility of my team- wanted a payday.
I gave it some heavy thought.
“You’re on. But let’s not bet for money. Let’s have some real skin in the game. If YOU win, I will be your slave for a week. I will do anything and everything you ask. Homework, clean your room, no nagging, you don’t have to be nice to Natasha, anything you want.
But if the A’s win, you have to be MY slave for a week. You have to do everything I ask. Brush your teeth, drink orange juice, make the school bus on time, no whining allowed.
Are you game?”
He was.
Game on.
Game One of the series was exciting. A real cliffhanger. And thanks to the relief pitching efforts of closer Dennis Eckersley, it looked like the A’s would take it.
And then, in the bottom of the ninth, with the winning run on base and everything riding on him, a badly-impaired Kirk Gibson hobbled up to the plate for the Dodgers and fouled them off, and fouled them off, and finally on the three-two count…
Home run.
Even I had to admit that watching the heroic Gibson grinning and gamely gimping around the bases with a torn hammy was inspirational. Kevin Costner couldn’t have starred in a better movie moment.
Nick just looked at me. He didn’t say a word.
The A’s folded like a deck of cards, lost all their momentum, and the Dodgers went on to win the Series.
I went on to do a week of third grade homework, chauffeur Nick to school in style, and fulfill other tasks too horrible to mention.
But I had learned a valuable lesson. I never made a bet again.
Until today.
Are you ready?
I bet that after you read the following vaudeville sketch- written by a very young William Claude Dukenfield, and performed in the 1928 Earl Carroll’s Vanities- you will laugh out loud.
Are you ready to take the bet?
(I only have your word of honor that you will report honestly. But I am willing to trust you.)
It’s entitled “School Days,” and it’s brought to you courtesy of Simon Louvish, author of The Man On The Flying Trapeze. (The punctuation and italics are the original.)
Scene: Interior of schoolroom. Three children’s desks and chairs strung out right facing left. Platform with small table and high stool stage left. Just behind the desks, blackboard about three feet by five. Cat, dog, and childish figure of a man adorn blackboard.
Characters:
Teacher: Unnamed woman actress
Pupil: Richard Bold (An actor I have never heard of.)
Pupil: Gordon Dooley (Ditto)
Pupil: Bill Fields (Heard of him.)
At opening, children are seated. Teacher is on platform, ruler in hand.
Teacher: Now children, to what kingdom does the peanut belong, animal, vegetable or mineral?
Bold (raising hand): I know teacher. Animal.
Teacher: No, you are thinking of the horse-chestnut. (Drops ruler, stoops to recover it with her back to the pupils.)
(Bold laughs heartily.)
Teacher: Well, why do you laugh?
Bold: I saw your stocking garter.
Teacher: Well I never. Leave the room. Go home and do not return to this school for a week. Do you understand, a week.
(Bold leaves room exit right, snickering. Teacher leans over again with back to pupils and this time recovers ruler. Dooley laughs unrestrainedly.)
Teacher: Well, what are you laughing at?
Dooley: I saw your bare leg.
Teacher: Merciful heavens! What next- Gordon Dooley you leave this room and do not return for a month. Do you understand? Do not return for a month.
Dooley leaves room exit right grinning with hand over mouth. Teacher mounts stool, placing her feet on rungs, arms akimbo and surveys room defiantly. Fields tries to suppress laughter by placing hand over mouth.)
Teacher (yelling): Well, what is the matter with you?
Fields (starting to leave): My school days are over.
The End
So come on, admit it. You laughed. And as far as the wagering went, I’m still willing to take it out in trade.
You’re all my slaves for a week!
Task Number One: Here’s the master at work. Watch it.
And Task Number Two: Take a gander at this.
My little chickadees.
Love, The Dude
Ellen, Thanks for sharing the clip of Kirk Gibson’s dramatic home run — it’s nice to see it in the full context of the final half inning. Dennis Eckersley, now in the Hall of Fame. Mike Scioscia, now highly successful manager of the Angels. Vin Scully, still active, arguably the greatest play-by-play announcer of all time: “In the year of the improbable, the impossible has happened.”
You’re welcome, Doc. Hollywood couldn’t have scripted this better.
Brilliant, the way you sucked in the unsuspecting reader with a seemingly-innocent baseball gambling story, then sandbagged him with Mr. Dukinfield. Of course, I was already laughing after I saw the photo on top. So what would madame like for dinner?
Yeah, he has that effect on me too, John. And it’s nice to find an honest man! I’ll take barbecued beef at Dr. Hogly Wogly’s the next time I’m in LA, thank you.
Will Madame require the usual hosing off and warm beach towels after her meal?
But of course. Say, this “slave” business is working out great. Now I’m thinking “pick up” at LAX.
One of my few bets was on the 1968 World Series. The Cardinals were up 3-1 on the Tigers so my roommate offered this wager: 10-1 on $1 (worth about $7 today), he takes the Tigers. Because only two teams at that time had come back from a 3-1 deficit, I figured it would be a fun bet. I was nervous when it was tied 3-3 but with Bob Gibson going for the Cards in game 7, it seemed like close to a sure thing. I hurried back from class and found the game still 0-0. Shortly thereafter, Curt Flood misplayed a fly ball and I was out $10. My father said, “You learned a lesson. Don’t bet against the American League.”
Very nice baseball chatter, Fred. But then again, I expected nothing less from a maven like you. In fact, I would have bet on it. Thanks for playing today.