Money Game
Funny story about that game . . . at least to me.
I was in Atlanta watching the game with my visiting brother-in-law, who knew and cared nothing about basketball. Heels went out to a substantial lead. He observed my anxiety, started peppering me with questions about the two teams, their prospects and relative merits, and he seemed to be enjoying the fact that my alma mater was struggling and I was unhappy. Of course I informed him that Carolina was the superior team, expected to win the game, that Duke was struggling that season. That's when the phone rang. It was a college classmate of mine, who informed me that Duke had beaten Carolina. "What?" I screamed. "We won? How is that possible, I'm watching it right now!" Turns out the game was being shown in Atlanta on a delay of some kind.
I returned to my seat in front of the television, reveling in the outcome of the most important game of every year. But my brother-in-law kept needling me about the Heels' dominance. That's when it hit me - despite my loud "We won?" and the remainder of one side of the telephone conversation, which had occurred literally within feet of where he sat, somehow it hadn't registered with him.
He kept with the trash talk and ridicule. I gritted my teeth and endured his continuing barbs, but eventually could contain myself no longer. (I'm not proud of what next transpired.) "Okay, Jim, you see Carolina up by 12 (or 15 or whatever it was at that point), would you like to wager on the outcome?" At this point my relatively uninformed and cautious (but greedy) in-law began hesitantly re-asking some questions - "You say Carolina is one of the top ten teams nationally?" Check. "And Duke is having an off year?" Check. "And there's only ____ minutes of game time remaining?" Check. We set the terms of the wager.
Carolina lengthened its lead. He was riding high. I offered to increase the bet. Thrifty and naturally cautious, he again hesitated, but greed won out. I won't deny however, as time dwindled down and our situation became dire, even knowing the outcome I was beginning to doubt myself. But when Banks hit the turnaround jumper from about half-court to send the game to overtime, it was clear that it was over except for the crying and gnashing of teeth.
Some months, or perhaps years later, I owned up to the scam. It's been part of our family lore for many years, of course.