People love to bet on the Super Bowl.
Last year, gamblers waged a record-breaking $132.5 million in Las Vegas on the big game, according to CBSSports.com. The American Gaming Association estimated Americans will bet $4.7 billion in illegal wagers on this year’s matchup between Atlanta and New England.
I will be part of that latter group. As I have for the past decade, I will bet my marriage on the big game.
Each year, my wife and I up the stakes on the Super Bowl. After the teams win their conference championships, we have “the talk.”
The loser of last year’s bet gets to choose which team to cheer on to an NFL championship. The winner from the previous year (usually me) finds himself the newest fan of the other team. (One exception: The bet is off if our Bears make it to the Super Bowl, which has only happened once in our time together.)
We don’t mess around with the point spread or over/unders. We play loser takes all — to dinner and a show.
The supporter on the wrong side is tasked with planning our annual St. Valentine’s Day date. That means finding a decent restaurant, making reservations if necessary and scheduling any other entertainment that evening.
While you might think losing is winning in this bet, it’s anything but that. The rules are clear you’re not scheduling a date only you would enjoy. It’s completely about pleasing your spouse. In the handful of years I’ve lost, I felt tremendous pressure to plan a date I knew my wife would thoroughly enjoy.
Last year, I successfully picked the Broncos to win against the Panthers. My wife and I enjoyed a lovely dinner and a little bit of jazz at a little club near Toledo.
While it’s officially a bet between my wife and me, I can’t help but notice our three daughters are extremely interested in the outcome.
Last year, our youngest and middle daughters sided with Carolina and their mother. I suspect it had more to do with Cam Newton and the dab than anything involving football, but it was fine. Our oldest and I cheered Denver on to the championship.
Really, very little of it is about football for them. The youngest and oldest usually watch a little bit of football, but they’re not terribly interested in the outcome. They’re often intrigued by the commercials and the musical acts, then they lose interest after halftime.
They also enjoy trash-talking the parent who seems headed for a loss throughout the game.
Our middle daughter is the wildcard. She decides which team she thinks will win completely independently of our dinner bet. She’s picking the Falcons this year.
That happens to be my bet this time around, as my wife chose to support New England this year. She tells the girls it’s because Tom Brady is cute, but I think it’s because she knows what a powerhouse defense the Patriots have, and defense wins championships.
Meanwhile, I’ll be the newest bandwagon Falcons’ fan. If they lose, I’ll be mourning on Monday morning, along with spending some time on Google figuring out some dinner plans.
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