Originally Posted by
redietz
How is a Colt going to beat a Lion?
(to the tune of Kenny Roger's "The Gambler"):
On a warm autumn evening,
On an Amtrak bound for Vegas
I met up with a gambler.
We were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a'starin'
Out the windows at the night sky,
'Til boredom overtook us
And he began to speak.
He said, "Son, I've made a life,"
Out of handicappin' football.
Knowin' who my teams would be
Before the lines came out.
So if you don't mind my sayin'
I can see you're out of winners.
I'll trade you that whiskey
For advice you'll never doubt.
So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he took my USA Today
And switched on the overhead light.
The night got deathly quiet,
And his face lost all expression.
"If you're gonna bet the teams," he said
You gotta learn to bet 'em right."
You gotta learn how to bet 'em.
Learn how to sweat 'em.
Learn when to scream and shout,
Learn when to sigh.
You never count your money,
'Til those blind men in the striped shirts
Decide the game is over,
And shoot that gun into the sky.
Every gambler knows,
That on any given Sunday,
The worst teams in the N-F-L
Can beat the league's elite.
But even seasoned pros
Wince on those rare occasions
That a flimsy yellow handkerchief
Spells vic'try or defeat.
There is one kind of loss
That's worse than all the others.
You have a four-point underdog
That trails by only three.
As time runs off the clock,
They kick the tying field goal,
And then lose by a touchdown
When the game goes to O-T.
A football isn't round
It takes some funny bounces.
No one can predict
Fumbles, flags, or injuries.
So don't go and bet your life
On any single game, boy,
Or you'll find out there are worse things
Than total bankruptcy.
You gotta know how to bet 'em.
Know how to sweat 'em.
Know when to scream and shout,
Know when to sigh.
You don't ever count your money
'Til those blind men in the striped shirts
Decide the game is over
And shoot that gun into the sky.