In the 1970s, I was a backgammon player in Los Angeles. Decent enough player, but not great.
One of the semi-regular players at the Cavendish West was a guy named Steve. Steve was a so-so intermediate player — but he cheated. After a while, word got out and he couldn’t get into a game because his reputation preceded him.
I didn’t mind him as a person, although I would never gamble with him nor ever enter into a deal with him where he had a chance to screw me. Our respective girl friends liked each other and sometimes we went out as a foursome. I always insisted on him giving me $100 before we went out to cover his half of the meal. I would return any amount left over. No $100 beforehand meant no double date.
In January 1977, we visited a restaurant that I liked and Steve had never visited. It was a week before the Oakland Raiders versus Minnesota Vikings Superbowl XI. Since the game was being held in nearby Pasadena, there was a lot of local interest and the owner/cook, Jack, had the restaurant decorated in silver and black — signifying he liked the Oakland Raiders in that game.
Steve saw an opportunity. He was quite a charming guy — until it became time to pay up. He chatted up Jack and before too long they made a bet for “double or nothing for the next meal Steve ate” based on the results of the upcoming game.
Although the bet sounded fair, knowing Steve, it clearly wasn’t. If the Vikings won, Steve would bring three guests and order up lobster tails all around with several bottles of expensive wine. If the Raiders won (which actually turned out to be the case), Steve would disappear. He would never be around to pay off the bet.
By accepting the bet, Jack put himself into a position where he couldn’t win, but he could lose big-time.
My personal philosophy on bets between two other people is to stay out of it unless a family member was taking the worst of it. Whatever the two of them arranged was fine. Even if I thought one of them was taking the worst of it, I kept my mouth shut.
And that’s what I did here — with great misgivings.
While I didn’t know Jack well, I had been there for dinner three or four times and we greeted each other by first names. He didn’t know Steve was a sleazeball, but I did. Did he have a reasonable expectation that I wouldn’t bring someone dishonorable into his restaurant? I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t feel right to me.
Since the Raiders ended up winning, that was clearly the “least bad” result for Jack. He wasn’t going to get paid off by Steve, but his team won, and he wasn’t going to be out anything.
Even so, I didn’t feel comfortable going back to that restaurant again. I didn’t want to answer questions about “my friend Steve and when was he coming by to pay up.” So, I guess Jack did lose one occasional customer and one occasional friend.
What would you have done? Would you have spoken up at the time? And if so, would it have been in front of both of them or just privately with Jack? Keep in mind that the fact that the Raiders ended up winning is irrelevant to whether I should have spoken up at the time of the bet. When it was time to “do something or not,” the game had not yet been played.
Author’s Note: I recently broke my rule about not getting involved if a family member of mine was taking the worst of it. There was a Caesars Seven Stars party and I got tickets for Bonnie, her sister, and her daughter. I was off at an Improv workshop. The three ladies would have a good time together. Bonnie had met several of my gambling friends that she liked and many of them would probably be there.
During the evening, Bonnie ran into two of these friends, “Tim” and “Alice.” Tim talked Bonnie into a $3 bet on an upcoming football game. Bonnie came back and told me about her bet with Tim, but she had no idea what team she bet on. She couldn’t tell me which teams were playing, let alone who was favored. Tim sent an amusing email contract using over-the-top legalese documenting the bet. I accepted on Bonnie’s behalf and promised to hold her feet to the fire should she lose.
Turns out that Bonnie’s team was a 1½-point underdog and she was making the bet straight up. While she’s definitely a family member taking the worst of it, I kept quiet. For $3 at a time, getting the wrong side isn’t so terrible.