As battered as a Grimsby cod…

You know things are not really going your way when the cashier in the bookies takes the proverbial out of you when you hand in a slip that shows a profit of 36p.

“Treat the wife”, she said, laughing.

In the interests of keeping a good relationship going I laughed along, but got to admit, the old pride took a wee bit of a dent.  Which is daft.  Sometimes you need to be the bigger man and not let something as stupid as ego get in the way of what you’re trying to achieve.

I’ve been trying hard to make sure this doesn’t happen.  Nobody wants to look daft, or even worse, desperate.  I reckon I frequently made myself look both when a teenager and trying to get a girl to go out with me.  Now it’s a different context, but whilst in the midst of the sort of losing run I’m suffering at the moment, I think the people in the bookies are thinking I’m throwing good money after bad, and looking, well…a bit daft and even a bit desperate.  Hence the joke at my expense about treating the wife.

But the thing is, if the people in the local bookies think I’m a loser, then that’s all good.  That’s what we want them to think.  But there’s a fair bit of me that doesn’t want to look like a loser.  Who wants to look like he knows what he’s doing.  That I’m a bit of a shrewdie.  I’m telling you, the ego is taking a bit of a kicking but the ego doing what egos do means that there is a very real urge to demonstrate that far from being a loser, the bets being placed all have +EV and demonstrate I’m a winner.  Instead of taking the mickey, the cashiers should look upon what I’m doing in hushed awe.  If I could just get one of these bets to bloody win, I reckon I can control the ego.  Trouble is, there isn’t much sign of that happening any time soon.

This period is a right pain in the ‘arris, I can tell you.  Take this evening as an example.

I have a meeting at 7.30.  I need to leave the house at 7.15.  The bookies is about ten minutes away but in the wrong direction.  I leave now to go to the bookies, I’m late for the meeting (and if it’s one thing I hate, it’s being late for anything).  So when I notice that Harry Wilson is flagged as a bet on the BookieBashing Tracker in the Sunderland/Fulham game, and that Wilfried Gnonto the same in the Man U/Leeds match, I decide I don’t have time to go and back them.

You don’t need to look up who scored first in each of those games.

Meantime, my two Football Coupons concerning tonight’s matches both produce no return whatsoever.  And so the run continues, and my ego isn’t so much bruised, as battered as a Grimsby cod.

Until next week…


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