The Football Pool

Last fall, Mark told me he'd joined a football pool at school. He gave his friend Antonio $2 to join, then spent each Tuesday morning telling me how he moved up or down in the rankings, according to the games that week.

Well, he was completely stoked to find out that he'd actually won the pool. We were out to dinner when he showed me his odd assortment of winnings--a five-dollar bill, a two-dollar bill, a one-dollar coin and a bunch of quarters. They were stashed in an old cell phone box, jostling around behind the plastic cover.

"I won 15 bucks!" he told me proudly, counting out the bills and coins.

"That's awesome!" I said, smiling. Then I looked over his cash, and said, "Doesn't look like $15."

"Well, I spent some of it on candy bars," he admitted. "But I still have $10."

I thought about this for a minute.

"I thought you said it cost $2 to join the pool," I said.

"It did."

"Then how come your winnings are an odd number?" I asked. "How many kids were in the pool?"

"Ten," Mark answered.

"Huh," I said. "Shouldn't there be $20?"

Mark giggled. "Well, Antonio lost five bucks," he said.

"'Lost' it?" I asked. "Or spent it?"

"Probably spent it," Mark admitted. "But hey, I'm still ahead. I put in $2, and I tripled my money!"

"You more than tripled it," I corrected.

"Double, triple, whatever," he shrugged. "I made more than I put in."

"True," I said. 

"It's not even that much," Mark told me. "He only lost, like 2% of the money."

"Actually, it's more like 25%," I told him, hoping he never tries his odds in Vegas.

"Whatever," Mark told me. "It's not like it was 50 bucks."

"Twenty-five percent of 50 bucks is--"

"I know, I know, it's like three dollars," Mark finished.

"Or like $12.50."

"Whatever," Mark said again. "Did I mention I have FIFTEEN WHOLE DOLLARS?" He waggled the money box at me again, to prove I was missing the whole point.

He really didn't care about the amount, he was just excited to have a bunch of cash (his very own money) in front of him. "Hey, I'll trade my quarters to you for dollar bills," he said. "And check out this two-dollar bill!"

And so I did. I admired his earnings, in all its different denominations, and I congratulated him again on being the big winner. He was so cute and excited about his money that I realized the actual amount didn't much matter. He was flush with cash and thrilled about winning, as he absolutely should be.

"Great job, kid," I told him, as the waitress set our bill on the table. I eyed it, then glanced at Mark. "What are you gonna do with all that money?" I asked, nodding toward the bill.

But he just shook his head. "I'm SAVING it," he said. "Just like my mom always taught me to do."

I laughed, and swiped up the bill. "Good boy," I said, standing up.

He may not be good at percentages, but he's lucky at picking football winners and not hung up on technicalities like missing cash.

And that sure makes him a winner in my book.