Number 2 – Win the Office Betting Pool

In 1985 I started a pool at work for the NCAA Basketball Championship Tournament, better known as ‘March Madness.’  The first year we had seven participants.  The winner was determined by the total number of tournament wins your five chosen teams had during the course of the tournament.  There was a two-way tie for first place that initial year.  They decided to split the pot; all $14 of it. 

Over the years the popularity of the pool grew.  One year the prize money (winner take all) amounted to $395, the biggest payout ever offered.  A woman who entered for the first time—and selected her teams by virtue of the appeal of the names of their mascots—won.  In 1988 ‘John’ (maybe/maybe not his real name) picked the Kansas Jayhawks as one of his five teams.  I distinctly remember mocking him mercilessly for picking the team with the most losses (11) in the field of 64 teams.  Not only did Kansas win the tournament, ‘John’ won the pool.  That was the day I had the confirmation I had been expecting: Betting Karma hates me.  Last year was the 30^th anniversary of the March Madness pool, and as you might expect I am oh-for-30. 

I started another pool in 1985 as well: the NCAA College Football Bowl pool.  The winner is determined by how many winning teams you can pick amongst all of the post-season bowl games.  In the event of a tie there is a randomly chosen tiebreaker to determine the winner.  In 1997 I was tied for the most wins heading into the final game of the year; we both selected Florida to beat Florida State in the Sugar Bowl.  Florida won in convincing fashion, winning 52 – 20 so had to resort to the tiebreaker to determine the winner.  Our tiebreaker was total passing yards for Florida’s quarterback, Danny Wuerffel.  My guess was 440; the other guy guessed somewhere around 300.  After three quarters Wuerrfel had already thrown for 306 yards, well on his way to the 400-yard mark.  However, Florida had a commanding lead entering the fourth quarter so the need for Wuerffel to pass was gone, he was taken out of the game and the other guy won the pool, proving once again Betting Karma hates me.

I decided this year things were going to change.  After this year’s bowl season Betting Karma would be kissing my ass: I was going to win the football pool and avoid matching my oh-for-30 record in the basketball pool.  There was no way—NO WAY that I was going to be a composite oh-for-60 in the three decades of the two office betting pools. 

After 33 bowl games I had 23 victories; the next closest person had 21.  (I looked like a genius selecting Nebraska to beat Georgia in the Gator Bowl.  Truth be known I hate Georgia so much I would never in a million years pick them to win anything.  Then again I looked like an idiot for picking UNLV to beat North Texas.  I wish I had taken the time to do a little research prior to making my selections; if I had I might have noticed that North Texas was favored over UNLV by something like a zillion points.) Regardless, even though I spent barely more than a minute selecting my 35 winners, I still had a two-victory lead with two games still to be played. I liked my chances.

My last two predicted winning teams were different than my rival, so I had three chances to win the pool: My team winning the 34^th bowl game (Go Daddy Bowl; I picked Ball State; my rival Arkansas State), my team winning the 35^th bowl game (the BCS Championship; I picked Auburn; my rival Florida State) or me winning the tiebreaker (total points in the championship game; I predicted 73 while my rival predicted 67).   

Bowl game #34: Arkansas State beats Ball State 23 – 20.  There goes my first chance of winning the pool, but not to worry: I still have two chances left.  I feel as if I’m playing tennis and I have three match points and my opponent just fought off the first one.

Bowl game #35: Auburn against Florida State with the National Championship at stake.  To win the pool I need Auburn to win.  Should FSU win I need a minimum of 71 points scored in the game to win.  Auburn takes a commanding 21 – 3 lead in the second quarter, but FSU closes the gap to 21 – 10 by halftime.  In an exciting fourth quarter the lead changes hands several times until Auburn scores with 1:19 left in the game and pulls in front, 31 – 27.  I won’t need the tiebreaker: Auburn was winning this game outright and I was winning my first office betting pool since the days of Ronald Reagan and MTV!  ‘Turn the lights out, the party’s over’ as Dandy Don used to sing during the golden age of Monday Night Football.  I thought the lyric was appropriate since this just so happened to be a Monday night, it was almost midnight and I was ready to turn the lights out and get to bed since I had an early alarm set for the following day (try 3:15 a.m. on for size).   

But then…IT happened.  Florida State made an incredible last-minute drive to score the go-ahead touchdown, taking a three-point lead and leaving a mere 13 seconds on the game clock for Auburn to retaliate.  In other words, in another 13 seconds Betting Karma was going to kick me to the curb for the 60^th time.  Sure, my rival and I were tied with 23 bowl victories, but by virtue of the 65 total points in the game he won the tiebreaker. 

I spent a restless 45 minutes or so in bed, finally falling asleep around 1 a.m.  One-hundred-and-thirty-five minutes later my alarm reminded me I was a loser, and that it was now time for me to start preparing for this year’s March Madness office pool.  After all, Betting Karma will be ready to flex its muscles again by then and will be looking for its most dependable fall guy. 

However, it wasn’t a total loss as I had a ‘first’ I wasn’t expecting: After only two hours and 15 minutes of sleep I went for a 10-mile run at 4 a.m. in five-degree weather with a wind chill that lowered the temperature to a robust minus 10 degrees.  I’m fairly certain I’ve never done that before and if there’s a God other than Betting Karma I doubt I’ll ever have to do it again.          

  

Number 1 - A Sincere Effort: No More Profanity

I thought I'd start the year with something I've never truly done; something I thought would be relatively simple to do requiring very little effort or thought to accomplish.  You know, something simple like picking the low-hanging fruit, shooting fish in a barrel or getting a degree from the University of Georgia.  How hard could it possibly be to stop swearing for the next 365 days and finally fulfilling the one resolution that--year after year, I just can't seem to keep?  I mean, if I put my heart and soul into it and gave an honest effort to refrain from saying anything I'd be embarrassed to say in front of my grandmother (God rest her soul), then surely doing it for a mere 12 months couldn't be that difficult, could it?  Well, let's give it a try and find out.

January 1 - Cindy and I had just spent the long New Year's holiday with her two brothers and their wives at a cabin in the mountains of North Carolina.  We would be driving the three-and-a-half hours back to our home in Peachtree City after I returned from my morning run.  I headed out at 6:45 a.m. to run a hilly eight-mile course in a robust 24 degrees.  The initial Arctic blast of icy cold fresh air caused me to mumble a couple of S-bombs to myself in the first 200 yards; I immediately wondered if I had already broken my resolution not to swear.  I decided that since no one was awake within 10 miles of me--let alone within earshot--I hadn't broken my resolution since no one heard anything I said (I'm using the 'If no one hears a tree falling in the forest, did it make a sound?' analogy).  Once I got back to the cabin I quickly packed my bags, showered, loaded the car and waited silently and not-so-patiently but no one could tell because, like I already said I'm waiting silently and the best way to ensure I don't swear is to be absolutely quiet.  I carry on my silence once we were (finally!) in the car and heading home and considered a few subjects for casual conversation.  I ultimately rejected every one of them in my mind because I had a very strong opinion on every single one of them and suddenly realized that when I verbalize strong opinions is when there is the highest probability of me using an S-bomb, an F-bomb or the worst of them all, the dreaded GD-bomb.  I have a tendency to use them as adverbs or adjectives.  For example most people would say a runner is 'very fast;' I'm prone to call that same runner 'F-bombing fast.'  (I'll stop here; I doubt you need any more examples.)

So I made it all the way home with my resolution still intact.  So far so good: Only eight more hours until bedtime and I could say I made it through an entire day without swearing.

Around 3:00 p.m. Cindy asks me how much of the pound cake is still left on the cake plate in the kitchen.  I removed the glass cover and as I set it down on the counter it banged against a large dish, made a loud CLINK that had I heard blindfolded I would have expected to hear the sound of shattered glass next.  Fortunately nothing broke. I told Cindy there was still pound cake left and replaced the glass cover.  Around 6:00 p.m. we finished our dinner and as I was taking the dirty plates to the sink Cindy asked me to get her a piece of pound cake.  I walked over to the counter, removed the glass cover and as I set it down: CLINK!  Two seconds after it happened I'm saying a silent prayer because once again nothing was broken (that's the good news).  However, one second prior to that I said perhaps the loudest GD-bomb in quite a few years.  Remember me saying the GD-bomb was the worst of the lot?  Well, the look on Cindy's face (keep in mind she knew nothing of my commitment to keeping my 'no swearing' resolution this year) said it all: A combination of 'Same old Scott' and 'It just KILLS me when he says that!'  Translation: LOO-ZER!    

'It's a good thing I kept my resolution to myself,' I thought to myself.  If only I could keep my swearing to myself.   I walked into the living room and saw the Georgia Bulldogs force a turnover against Nebraska, giving them hope of pulling out a victory in the Gator Bowl.  'S-bomb,' I yelled. (Surprise!  I hate Georgia.)  Cindy barely noticed; after all it's just the same old Scott doing what he does best.  

Tomorrow is another day.  Surely I've learned from my mistakes.

Then again tomorrow is the day I am returning to work after being off for six days, a recipe for disaster.  This might get ugly.      

January 2 – I headed out the front door for my run at 4:10 a.m.  It was not only cold; it was raining as well.  I hate it when I have to start my run in a driving rain, especially when I’m leaving a warm, dry house behind.  ‘S-bomb,’ I muttered to myself aloud for no one to hear but me, all the time remembering the falling tree in the forest from yesterday.  I finished my run, shaved and showered (in that order; not the more commonly-said ‘showered and shaved’) and got dressed, impressed that over two hours had passed and I hadn’t said any naughty words except for those couple of initial volleys when I left the house for the first time.  I woke Cindy before I left, intentionally avoided any sort of dialogue that might encourage the use of colorful adjectives and headed to work.  I rode in the car, listening to the ‘70’s station and being alone with my thoughts when some a**clown in front of me waits until the last minute to move over one lane into the turning lane and caused ME to slam on my brakes and wait until someone allowed the a**clown to pull in front of them.  As I always do when this occurs, I laid on the horn until I was able to move again.  When I finally could I pulled up beside the a**clown and again, as I always do when this occurs, I looked him in the eye and shouted ‘F-bombing a**hole.’  Naturally with the windows up (it’s raining, remember) the a**clown (a**clown, a**hole—same person; sorry if I confused you) couldn’t hear me (falling tree number two); I had now gone a total of about two-and-a-half hours since waking up without uttering a bad word; at least not one that anyone else had heard. 

Yet.

I called my supervisor on my cell phone to see how the day was shaping up.  Although it’s the day after a two-day holiday, we’re going to be busy: Very busy, in fact.  The kind of busy my supervisor and I are accustomed to calling ‘F-bomb me’ busy.  This was going to be one of those days and as God is my witness I never stood a chance of not swearing: The words just flew out of my mouth.  ‘F-bomb me.’   The split second I spoke those two words I realized what I had done.  The next word, in retaliation for my slip of the tongue: ‘S-bomb.’   

Realizing the day was already a total loss for my new resolution, I spent the next 10 hours using my regular colorful assortment of adverbs and adjectives, with the intention of making January 3 the beginning of the new me. 

After all, tomorrow is another GD-bomb day.

January 3 – I woke up at 3:30 a.m. to outside temperatures in the mid-20’s and a wind chill that made it feel like it was in the teens.  I drank my morning coffee and walked through the laundry room so I could get my running shoes out of the garage.  When I opened the door to the garage I was hit in the face with an Arctic blast similar to the one a couple of mornings ago, causing me to mumble ‘it’s f-bombing cold’ under my breath, knowing I had ‘the falling tree’ in my back pocket.  But then I noticed Morgan the cat in her litter box out of the corner of my eye, looking at me with disappointed eyes and making an audible ‘tsk tsk’ for my poor vocabulary choice.  That surprised me, mainly because I had no idea Morgan was in the laundry room at the time but also because apparently even she disapproved of me using an F-bomb. 

Three strikes, I’m GD-bomb out.  I surrender.  Profanity: You win.    

POSTSCRIPT: For those of you with a similar condition I did a little research and found various suggestions for breaking the habit of using words you wouldn’t want your grandmother to hear.  Things like:

·      Recognize that swearing does damage.

·      Start by eliminating casual swearing.

·      Think positively.

·      Practice being patient.

·      Stop complaining.

·      Use alternative words.

·      Think of what you should have said.

·      Blah blah and more blah.

It’s almost as if someone actually believes some of that shit might actually work.

PARENTS: Should you use this story in the character development of your children, please have them reference the key below, as it explains the meaning of the abbreviations found in the preceding narrative:

·      S-bomb = shoot

·      GD-bomb = gosh darn

·      F-bomb = fudge

·      A** = apple

·      Shit = shit

50 Ways to leave your 50's

Before this year is over I will no longer be in my 40's.  50's either, for that matter.  

Less than 12 months from now I’ll be turning 60 years old.  ‘Are you sh*tting me?’ I ask myself.  I remember when I was a boy living in Holland how old I thought my babysitter was; all of 18 years of age and about to graduate from high school.  I remember when I was in high school how old I thought my teachers were; hell, some were almost 40 years old!  I remember when I reached 30 how old I thought the runners who were 50 and older were amazing because they were still running at their age!   When I turned 40 I thought how lucky the people who were 60 and older were because they were either retired or on the cusp of retirement.

When I turned 50 I started calling anyone in their early 40’s or younger ‘kids.’  Now that I’m close to 60 I’ve moved that descriptor to anyone in their early 50’s.  What I find most amazing is that I’m the same person who was once that small boy living in Holland who thought turning 18 years old was pretty much the end of the line; you simply couldn’t get much older than that.

This year I want to do something different.  In fact this year I want to do a LOT of things different.  Things I’ve never done before.  Things I’ve never tried before.  In some cases perhaps doing or trying things I’ve never even considered before.  

In fact I’m already keeping a list of possibilities for what could be the most unique collection of New Year’s Resolutions ever compiled:

·      Take a yoga class.  Who knows what kind of results I might see if I actually did all of my yoga positions correctly?

·      Touch my palms to the ground.  This should be a cinch if I take that yoga class.

·      Run to work.  I ran to work (26 miles) when I worked at JC Penney on ‘Run to Work Day.’  Since then it’s been changed to ‘Run at Work Day’ and I work somewhere else (also 26 miles from my house).  I had a shower installed at my current facility…for things just like this.

·      Run 60 miles for my 60^th birthday.  I considered running my age in kilometers (that would equate to about 37 miles) but then I remembered kilometers are for wimps and miles are for men. 

·      Make five consecutive free throws with my eyes closed.  It might take me 1,000 tries, but I’m confident I can do this.

·      Wear pink shoes for an entire week during October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  After all, pink shoes—like miles--are for men.

·      Visit New Orleans.  No, I’ve never been and yes, I would remember even if I went during Mardi Gras.

·      Attend a film festival.  Sundance would be nice; Cannes would be better.  I would even settle for a horror film festival: Who knows, I might even meet get to meet one of the pillars in the business!  That guy from Saw, perhaps.  Or the person who played the lead role in Leprechaun (assuming, of course the character wasn’t computer-generated). 

·      Fly an airplane.  A friend of mine gives flying lessons.  I’m hoping he can take me up in his plane one day and let me sit in the driver’s seat and hold the steering wheel, if only for one or two seconds.  Actually, it’s probably best for me to stop after one.

·      Write fiction.  After writing seven books of nonfiction with two more in the hopper, how hard can it be making shit up for a couple hundred pages?  (Does this fall into the category of ‘famous last words?’)

·      Don’t speak for an entire day.  No words necessary (pun intended).

·      Visit South America.  Anywhere in South America.  At the top of the list: Argentina, Chile and Columbia.  I’d better defer to my second or third choices because if I opt for my first choice, Argentina, I’m not so sure I’d want to come back.

·      Attend an AA meeting.  I believe attending a meeting might provide me some insight into my addiction to running.  I’ve never told anyone this before, but there was a period of time (from 1994 through 2008) that I couldn’t stand for anyone in Fayette County to run farther than me on any given day.  Yes, any given day.  If I knew of someone running 25 miles on a day I only ran 20, I would go out for another run that day to at least match them.  That particular obsession is only the tip of a very long iceberg.

·      Write a children’s book.  I already have an illustrator lines up.  This one is going to happen regardless of the other 49 items on the list.  Tell your children (ages six through nine; book should be available towards the end of 2014 so plan accordingly).

·      Write an entire story while intoxicated.  No proofreading or editing allowed.

·      Run naked.  Two possibilities: (1) During one of my 4:30 a.m. runs during the week (I finish around 6 a.m. and rarely see anyone else on the roads with the exception of one or two police officers on patrol (no worries; they rarely notice their surroundings) or (2) participate in a 5K road race in May at a nudist colony (I’ve been invited many times by the Race Director but never had the courage, even though they offer a ‘clothing optional’ option). 

·      Invent a dessert.  I’ve watched The Food Channel enough to know that most of the really good recipes are made by experimentation and/or accident.  I’d like nothing more than to experiment with vanilla flavoring, vanilla ice cream, vanilla cake batter and/or all of the above.  My money’s on ‘all of the above.’

·      Buy a motorcycle.  The longest shot on the list, by a long shot.  Maybe I’ll change this one to ‘seriously talk about buying a motorcycle.’

·      Learn to ride a motorcycle (if only for a minute, in which case the previous entry would simply be ‘rent a motorcycle’ or perhaps ‘talk some poor schlub into letting me borrow his motorcycle for a day or two’ in which case the poor schlub should immediately start praying for the motorcycle being returned in one piece.

·      Run a marathon in Texas.  I haven’t run a marathon in approximately half of the 50 states; Texas is one of them.  It just so happens there is a marathon in Fort Worth.  My grandson lives in Fort Worth.  Two birds, one stone. 

·      Drink an alcoholic drink I’ve never had before.  Scotch immediately comes to mind.  Find the top shelf and drop down two.  Heck, I used to think Bud was the King of Beers when I was a teen.  Now I realize it was nothing but filtered Clydesdale urine.  So why would I need top shelf?

·      ‘Fly solo’ at a music trivia contest.  I’ve been playing music trivia every week for over seven years with our team, The Fried Mushrooms.  I’ve always wondered how I would do without the help of our ‘country music experts,’ ‘rap/hip hop experts’ and ‘top 40 experts’ (I do poorly on all three of those categories). 

·      Binge-watch an entire season of one of my favorite television series in one day.  I’m two seasons behind on Dexter.  That seems like a good place to start.  I like that word: ‘Start.’

·      Go to the theater to watch a ‘chick flick’—alone—on the day the film opens.  I realize if I am caught it could result in the permanent forfeiture of my Man Card, but hey—I like living on the edge.  With the exception of flying an airplane, this is the most far-fetched item on my list.  So far, anyway.  I’m not even halfway to 50 things yet.

·      Do volunteer work for an organization I’ve never volunteered for before.

·      Attend a music festival.  There’s one right down the road in Atlanta: The Midtown Music Festival.  Great concept, great musicians, great venue…but then again, it’s in Atlanta.  There are only three good things to come out of Atlanta: I-20, I-75 and I-85.  And Diet Coke.  I can’t believe I almost forgot Diet Coke. 

·      Truly give up something for the entire 40 days of Lent.   I’m thinking carbonated beverages, particularly the one that can eat through corrosion on battery cables.  

·      Go on a totally spontaneous road trip.  At this point I’m unsure of the reason: A run in a special place, a pub crawl experience, to people watch, for peace and quiet…  But why do I need a reason if the intent is for it to be spontaneous?  (Damn Type A personality!)

·      Drink only German beer for the entire year.  In other words, absolve myself of the skunky American beers (I’m not talking to you, Samuel Adams.  You either, Blue Moon.  Just everyone else.).

      On my 60th birthday, celebrate with a special run.  60 miles, maybe.  Or 60 kilometers.  Or 60 minutes.  Maybe 60 hours.  One of those for sure.  

·      Get a tattoo.  This one never crossed my mind until Cindy noticed Ryan Lochte, Gold Medal winning swimmer at the Olympic Games and a Florida Gator alumnus sporting a lifelike alligator tattoo on his shoulder.  Cindy said she wanted one, and if she were to be the only one in our family with a tattoo I may as well put my Man Card in the shredder myself.  If I were to get one, I have one more for this list:

·      OF MY OWN FREE WILL AND FOR NO MEDICAL OR HEALING PURPOSE WHATSOEVER have a needle stuck into my body. 

Is that 50 yet?  No?  It looks like 2014 is shaping up to be a very long year.