The day the long shot came in and made my day
Isuccessful sports better. I lose more than I win, but I don am’not t bet the big. world’s You might most describe my betting style as “long shots”, punts with long odds and a small outlay.
A small bet makes the game a little more interesting. I’ve never hit a big win.
That changed last weekend. It was my birthday last Friday. My wife took me for lunch to Saint, the restaurant run by my mate, David Higgs. We had some wine, a beer, a limoncello, carving a gentle afternoon buzz.
At home, I checked messages. SportingBet, the online betting site, had offered me a free R50 bet for my birthday. That was made for a long shot. I picked a 10-match, multiple bet, including football and rugby.
For the Friday night, I picked Maritzburg to beat Chippa, the Cheetahs to knock over Glasgow Warriors, Ulster to beat the Ospreys and Villareal to see off Real Betis.
I fell asleep early. Sometimes the afternoon buzz can do that to a man. On waking, I saw that the first four matches had come in. I checked the rest of my choices. Argentina over Tonga. Japan over Ireland.
Wait. What? Dammit. Drunk betting. I’d clicked on the wrong team. I’m Irish. Ireland were overriding favourites. Japan were 9/1 to win. I could not change it. It was a free bet and there are restrictions. And so I let it ride. My wife left me to my own devices on Saturday. She headed north to see friends. I headed out to watch rugby.
I bought food for the dogs. Stopped in at Giles for a swift pint and to check the Ireland score. Ireland were ahead. I rolled home, caught a taxi to Pirates for the second half and the Bok match.
Japan were on the charge. Ireland were on the ropes. Bet on. Stuff the land of my birth. There was money on the line here, the best birthday present I could want. The beers did little for my nerves. I almost roared when the final whistle went. I was in it. The long shot was on.
SA did the right thing and won the most boring and tedious of matches at a stuttering, almost bored canter. That was win number seven. We got the barmen to change the channel to the Liverpool match. Liverpool squeezed a win against Sheffield United, thanks to a howler by their goalkeeper Dean Henderson.
Jurgen Klopp said we only deserved a draw. That was the eighth match done. I was up. I could not cash out. There was no option for that from a free bet. I was a few sheets to the wind at this stage. I posted my bet on social media.
Derek Alberts, the broadcast presenter, reposted and suddenly I had a wave of support on social media, cheering me on, hoping that the miracle would happen.
I needed a win and a draw for the long shot.
Barcelona were a sure thing against Getafe. Not a fuss for Suarez and Messi. And then I stuffed up. The last match was the draw between Man City and Everton. I told everyone. They tuned in.
My mate David O’Sullivan was watching the game. He is not a Premiership fan.
The two were drawing. The win was on. I checked my bet again. Oh. Cr*p. The draw was the Real-Atletico Madrid match. The afternoon buzz had confused me. I told David. He was disgusted I had made him watch most of a footie match.
I told Derek. He laughed and told the world. Then City scored twice and won. Luck was with me. The Real-Atletico match started at 9pm. I was never going to make that and went to bed at 8.30pm.
I woke up at 1am. My phone was going nuts. I checked the SportingBet app. I clicked on “My Bets”, then “settled”. I saw 10 ticks. I looked at amount. R28,799.58. Twenty-eight grand. From a free bet. I could not sleep. Social media was going mad. I couldn’t keep up. It was daft, beautifully daft.
A weekend that had started with a buzz ended with a roar.
The long shot had come in.