A deadly sports betting episode

For those who don’t know, I support Manchester United. We winners are easily spotted. I am not saying Arsenal fans are losers but well, it’s been eight years and still counting (that’s me thinking out loud). Although I’m bragging now, by the time I’m done sharing this story, I might just be the loser!

For those who don’t know, I support Manchester United. We winners are easily spotted. I am not saying Arsenal fans are losers but well, it’s been eight years and still counting (that’s me thinking out loud). Although I’m bragging now, by the time I’m done sharing this story, I might just be the loser!

So last week during the Champion’s League games, ManU was playing Shaktar. The place I was had a Skol beer promotion – you drink a Skol and you’re given the chance to bet, the one closest to predicting the score gets to win the biggest Skol bottle. When I say the biggest bottle, trust me it’s bigger than any Skol bottle you’ve ever seen. It’s just for winners… like me.

Having taken a number of Skols, I had many coupons to bet on. One of them was a 1 – 1 between the two football giants. So the game started and I was torn between wishing my team winning and them drawing and I take home the bottle.

By half time, ManU had scored. Things seemed to go fine, I practically wanted both teams to score but I couldn’t raise my voice when Shaktar almost scored. My palms were sweating as I watched the game. Everyone was shocked about how quiet I was during the game but they didn’t know what had transpired before the game.

Fear and shame hit me when Shaktar also scored a goal. It wasn’t long before the match ended and one of the managers of the hotel got the microphone and announced me as the winner. I felt like running to the ID centre and changing my names because I had indicated both names on the coupon.

She called out my name and every ManU fan looked at me in disgust! I almost denied but everyone knew me. The Skol looked too good to ignore. I stood up with legs so wobbly that some people even thought it was a dance for joy. A Congolese man behind me said, “That boy knows our traditional dance moves.”

I just grabbed the big bottle and ran out of the place before bottles started flying in my direction. Arsenal fans couldn’t have enough of me, ManU fans wanted to eat me alive.

Funny thing was, most of the ManU fans that were so furious came to my room later that night. For a moment I thought they had come to beat me up, but I got to find out that they had come to have some Skol. The angry faces were now smiling and calling me nice names. It was a very great night.

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