A life lesson about sports gambling
It was the fall of 1976. My senior year at Boston College. I was living in what BC students called the “Big Red House” on the corner of Commonwealth Avenue and Center Street in Newton with 9 other BC seniors. The house was a legendary haunt for partygoers, for Vietnam War veterans who could sleep on the living room couches whenever they were down on their luck and for college and pro sports gamblers.
One of the most extravagant yearly parties that the Big Red House was famous for was the 10 keg affairs that would take place on the Monday of the Boston Marathon. The 26k race traveled right by the house for the final Comm Ave. stretch from Chestnut Hill to Boston.
It just so happened that the year we threw the April Boston Marathon party a stretch limo pulled into the driveway and out walked Paul Newman. He pointed to the kegs and asked, “are they what I think they are?” Yes indeed Mr. Newman! As we handed him a red Solo cup, he told us that he had a few hours to hang out with us while his wife, Joanne Woodward, was downtown filming a marathon movie. Thus, because of Paul Newman, for the next few hours we felt like we were in a marathon movie!
At the time I was accruing thousands of dollars in student loans in order to pay my BC tuition. Thanks to my 35-hours-a-week waitering job down at “Our House” on Comm Ave. in Brighton, I was able to scrape out enough money to pay for the rent and the house’s weekly food contributions. I would take the “Green Line” trolley each day straight from my last class at BC to Brighton. After my night shift, I would have to hitchhike home because the Green Line had already shut down for the night. The amazing thing was when a car would pull over and I would hop in all I really had to say to the driver was “please take me to the Big Red House.” The house was a veritable Boston landmark!
Two of my housemates, Richie and Frodo, were daily college and pro sports gamblers. They had bet on the Yankees that fall so profitably that each of them was driving a new, sporty Mazda and had purchased a big screen TV for their rooms.
Each Friday in the fall, Richie and Frodo had one of their best friends show up to give them the “sure thing” college football bet of the week. For the first 5 weeks everyone in the house was cashing in on the “sure thing” bet of the week. So much so that by halftime of the given game, my housemates were ordering five kegs for the evening’s revelry.
Richie and Frodo kept asking me why I wasn’t cashing in with the rest of them. I told them that I literally had $10 in my banking account and that there was no way I could risk losing.
Yet in moment of pure weakness on the sixth week of the season I placed a $500 bet on #5 ranked Maryland to beat Wake Forest by more than 6 points. It was the “sure thing” bet of the week.
Final score: (5) Maryland 17, Wake Forest 15.
Richie and Frodo informed me that the bookie’s pay day was Monday and that I should do what they were doing —- go double or nothing on an NFL pick 3 versus the spread where you only had to win two of the three to cash in.
It all came down to the one late game I picked —- I took the Houston Oilers (+4) over the San Diego Chargers.
Early the 4th quarter, after the shock of learning that Charlie Joiner had just caught an 81-yard TD pass from Dan Fouts to put the Chargers up 24-13, I was desperately trying to figure out if there was anyone on the planet who could or even would consider loaning me $1,000 by the very next day. Mind you that $1K back then was like $10K now. I thought to myself, should I flee the premises and hitchhike my way to Nebraska? Needless to say, I was having brass knuckles nightmares.
The game wasn’t being shown on NBC Boston. So, I had to breathlessly scour the score tickers at the bottom of the TV.
An update from San Diego just came in —- the Oilers’ Ken Burrough has just caught a 67-yard TD from Dan Pastorini to cut the Chargers’ lead to 24-20. This provided a new glimmer of hope, but I still desperately needed the Oilers to score a FG or TD to get ahead of the spread.
I can vividly remember praying to God and swearing to Him that if He were to bail me out this one time, I would never ever make another bet in my life. Never. Ever. I swore.
Then came the gift from God that I had been praying for. “We have an update from San Diego.” Then, I watched in complete awe Billy “White Shoes” Johnson haul in a 34-yard TD pass from Dan Pastorini and suddenly the Oilers were up 27-24!
Hang on Oilers, hang on!
You won’t believe how this game ends —- I mean because I still cannot.
The Chargers marched right down the field and Bo Matthews plunged in from the 1-yard line to send me into an absolute panic.
Yet like something straight out of Buffalo Wild Wings commercial, the usually automatic Ray Wersching from the ten-yard line (remember those days?) missed the extra point!
Final core: Chargers 30 Oilers 27.
As it turned out by the sheer grace of God, Rocco and Moose never had to help Mitch find his rubber checkbook!
Glory Halleluiah!
To this day I have kept my promise. And to this day I have always held a soft spot in my heart for Billy White Shoes Johnson and Ray Wersching.
Which is why waking up today to this tweet compelled me to relate this story. I mean because, why not?
Happy birthday, Billy “White Shoes” Johnson! pic.twitter.com/JWKS0UHMax
— Atlanta Falcons (@AtlantaFalcons) January 27, 2025
Happy 73rd Birthday, White Shoes!
And with that…the ROTB Pick ‘Em Playoff Games winner is…
ERauch! Congratulations!
Please email your address to me at waltermitchell@comcast.net
Hail to the ROTB Pick 3 vs Spread Champ
Mr. Jethro Bodine!
