Punting on ignorance
By Sheryl-Lee Kerr
FOOTBALLER is a word which comes from the Latin Footibias (with the
feet) and bali (a tropical holiday destination). Put together, it
means literally “Using one's feet to make retirement plans for
tropical holiday destinations”. Or else “lucky bastards”.
I mention this informative piece of knowledge now because at this
very moment, in offices throughout the land, a select few people are
crowing about being in the top placings in their footy tips
competition. I have only one thing to say about such annoying,
big-headed people: “Champers, anyone?”
Yes indeedy moi, the football village idiot, has just shamed an
office full of so-called expert punters whose calculations are so complex
that if they'd just factor in the square root they'd have built the
first fully automatic three-legged dog.
And they still can't win a round.
I'll type faster here because if looks could kill, I think I have
about three minutes left of breathable oxygen.
After my taunts in recent years about trained monkeys having more ability
than the footy tipsters, I was, er, strongly urged to plonk the
moolah where the mouth was this year. My subsequent dash from last into
second place was not without a carefully thought-out game plan.
I reproduce it here so others may benefit from my success next year:
1. I would pick no team beginning with the letter C. (I don't even
remember the reason for this, but it made perfect sense at the
time.) The Crows, incidentally, begin with the letter A. Obviously.
2. I would adopt the highly scientific approach of choosing the team
of whichever coach looked most earnest after the previous game. This
made it exceptionally difficult when tipping in Adelaide Crows games
as Malcolm Blight's expression has yet to change.
3. I would never change my tips once submitted, even if I had, for
instance, accidentally written Freo to beat the Broncos by two
touchdowns.
4. The big rule of thumb is not to take the game seriously. Once you
start thinking about it and expending any more effort on choosing
teams than “heads Geelong, tails St Kilda”, you become a real
tipster and are destined for the curse of knowing too much.
5. You must prove your footy irreverence regularly by, say, getting a
friend to ask her psychic which teams will win one week. (Got seven
out of eight right that time.)
And, finally, never let an opportunity for gloating pass you by. As
you may never get it again, seize the day. Revel in it. Feel free to
compare your limited footy knowledge with that of the office footy
know-it-all.
And, last but not least, take out a good private health
insurance policy.
Well that's it. All I can say to my mournful compatriots today is:
thanks, and the tips cash should indeed, as the word suggests, go
towards a nice Bali holiday.
© Sheryl-Lee Kerr & The Advertiser, 31 AUG 1999