[4/15/23] #24 - A Strong Favorite

[4/15/23] A Strong Favorite

I often will credit Dink or George for teaching me how to bet sports. They helped but the truth is that my stepfather Wally was the catalyst.

Wally worked as a telemarketer and painted houses on weekends when he wasnt substituting teaching while going to school to become a teacher.

He would take me to Cape League games & buy me a pack of Topps every other week.

He taught me how to bet. He smiles wide telling family friends about it nowadays.

When we eventually moved to Colorado to a small, tourist town to a cabin there were endless chores. I'm 11 years old learning how to lose my accent and lugging trees around for him to chop into firewood. I loathed it, fully resented this new life.

He would make a deal with me. He would bet me $5 or the weeks chores based on whether my red sox won on Saturday.

He would always ask, "are you sure you wanna bet?" Do you wanna bet on the Sox or against them?"

They were so awful that particular year. Mo Vaughn was hurt, our entire pitching staff was awful and aging stars were being traded away.

I plowed away with red Sox bets and walking whatever dog my mom was breeding for extra money back then or shoveling mud out of the driveway on a huge hill.

I didn't know until years later that Wally knew the result of the red Sox games long before we would get the result on the braves replay later than night. He would watch the live game earlier the day and find out the winner then ask me what my bet was. Dirty!

Wally would talk me out of betting on my sorry BOSOX a couple of times and they'd miraculously win!

There was still baseball chat every night during the summer as he became immersed in rotisserie fantasy leagues and I played short stop and center field every summer.

I had to play summer leagues as my grades wouldnt allow me to play for any of my school teams.

Resentment grew between him and I. The teacher couldn't teach his own wife's son and inherited son to read or write.

I left. He had to be relieved. I was a awful teenager at this point. 14 and 15 I mostly just couch surfed, made money loitering, panhandling in said tourist town and hanging out with my drunk dad who embraced my not going to school.

30 years later I spend a lot of time talking to Wally. He has 11 fantasy teams, $10 or $20 full season yahoo or ESPN leagues that he monitors with more seriousness than Dink sweating a NHL OT.

He keeps a laptop on his lap and a iPad propped up from his couch. He talks to me about real life issues as he monitors trade talks.

He advises me on how to deal with a lack of awareness of my sister's health issues, my girlfriends father passing and how to deal with new mortgages and the upcoming inevitable.

Wally was put on permanent oxygen 3 days after Christmas and has a bout with pneumonia around every other month. He uses a walker twice a day. To feed the dogs, chickens and make a appearance for my 13 and 15 year old brother and sisters sake for dinner every night. It takes it out of him but he never doesn't make it for them.

That's been his story though. He never wanted to be a teacher. He wanted to own a record label and make music. He wanted to be a hippy, living off lobster and crab racks in Cape Cod.

Then he met this beautiful woman who had a 6 year old kid and she gave him a 5 year plan but she was a teacher and going to school to become a social worker. He had to have a career because she was moving to Colorado where the sun came out everyday and you could have 15 dogs and no one cared.

He was so in love he became a science teacher at the worst middle school in the state of Colorado just to make sure she didn't change her mind the very first week they arrived.

My first sister came in his first year on the job. He loathed every minute of that classroom for the next 24 years. He loved 3 days a year he will tell you. First day of Christmas, spring and summer break.

He says this but my youngest sister discovered a Facebook account that told the real story. He's friend with well over 1000 ex students, faculty members and reads every newsletter from his old middle schools 17 years post retirement.

He spent his late 50s living his retirement dream of being a master carpenter and he built 3 small rental homes for my mother and him to have a nest egg so my mom could adopt more children and retire if she chose.

33 years at the same school district as a social worker she has no plans to retire. My sister works besides her in the same role as the district grows.

Wally watches 12 hours a day of baseball and I just decided the day after opening day to give him my Draft kings account as a gift. He had 2200 to start with a $43 max bet.

After 11 bets and a loss of $191 I checked in to see why no plays had been made since Monday.

He told me out of breathe. The dodgers get swept by Arizona! Who could predict something that stupid!? I lost 200 on that lunacy he complained.

It was the first time I heard him complain in so long about anything not political that I got emotional. Of course I said welcome to the club! Just a glorious moment for me.

Recently he told me he was proud of me. Startled me. I was fortunate enough to help my family. He wrote a email to thank me and signed it proud of you son. First time ever referred to as... Proud of you too Dad.

Dr's gave him a year, 3 years ago. Then maybe a month or 2 in December. He just wrote a 3 page oped about solving homelessness around his community public park and traded for Ohtani in a true steal as he put it.

Pretty sure he's moved from dog to make it to the All star break to a strong favorite to see the playoffs.

I was going to write something light but it would have been unauthentic. Wouldn't have felt right at this time.