Thread by @SportsbkConsig

Story time from the book:

The book business is a microcosm for life lessons.

There are rules, there is order & there is chaos, all within minutes at times.

Growing up in & around the business has been invaluable as a parent as well.

Just like bets, you win, lose or push but

you just wanna be right more than you are wrong.

Sometimes, the plan comes together. Other times, it’s a dead wrong loser. But the juice is always working.

Bettors, books, pick girls, bag guys, and everyone else in between, the one line we can all agree on is that we all..

want to be right..

The money is relative, and it is the measuring stick, but it isn’t the be all, end all..

Yes, the book has to win to pay the salaries of the employees. The bettor has to win to make more plays and maybe take a vacation.

But we are all people fighting

something every day in our own lives, and sports, the book, the bets, for most people, is supposed to be fun..And it’s more fun when you are right..

I’ve been lucky to live this life for years and Mama Consig agreed to share it..

We been cranking along together for almost..

20 years together trying to be right and betting on & against each other constantly..

We have been blessed, lucky and grateful to have three girls to share it all with and have the same debates with that many of you are having as parents on the regular..

As much as I love..

sports and the business, I am a husband and dad first and foremost, a coach second and in the business is right there..

When I have a morning like this one, I get to combine all three..

Thanks to you, I get to share it..

I don’t know how mornings go in your house, but as..

a GirlDad in an Ocean of Estrogen, the mornings here can be like a tsunami..

I’m bald and shave my head, but the amount of time spent with hair care products, brushes and these goddamn hair ties that we can never find despite having thousands never ceases to amaze me..

Once..

the battle starts, things escalate just like the rush of bets before a big game..

Yelling, name calling, lots of blame being thrown around..

I just sit back, try to keep the line moving and pick my spots to interject..

Like any man living in a house full of women..

I speak less and listen more.

Every day, I am responsible for making sure Little Consig, 7 years old and pictured above, gets to school..

Last year, her and I walked to and from school everyday until Covid shut it down..

I learned so much about her in that 10 minute stroll..

as well as got the dirt on the two teenagers and Mama Consig..

We have been robbed of that time due to the pandemic until last week when the hybrid model of school opened back up..

Two days a week, Thursday and Friday, the kid and I head out to tackle 1st grade and solve all..

the world’s problems in 10 minutes to post (arrival). We rehash it all on the way back.

Just like in the book, weather is rarely a factor in Vegas, but when there is rain or wind, the whole process is altered..

Today, as we left, it was raining. Pretty hard actually. Up by..

us, it was kinda snowing..

I am from Pittsburgh so I know what it’s like to walk in the rain or snow. I watched my Nonny D wear a babushka every time she went outside if there was a HINT of rain..

As I am hearing the debate about which shoes that Little Consig wanted to wear..

across this great trek across a very wet Hualapai, Mrs Consig says, “You can’t wear those shoes, they are too small.”

The little one is only 7 but she is wise beyond her years and independent as hell..

The debate turns to a goddamn inferno and I walk in..

“Ready to go?”

I asked innocently, but apparently this was not the time or the place to be asking anyone anything..

The little one made her case.

“Mama said I can’t wear crocs because it’s raining. So I have to wear these shoes.”

Over the top, Mama comes in with “the shoes are too small..

and she should not be wearing them. Her feet are going to hurt. But she says they won’t and she doesn’t have any others that fit.”

Initial price Mama -350, but the kid is live.

Pap Pap comes in with an umbrella after Grandma said we didn’t have one so that prop bet..

cashed..

Mama says “You should drive and not walk to school today.”

My spider sense is tingling. This is a head fake. Line is down to Mama -180.

We walk outside together.

With her backpack loaded like she is never coming back, umbrella in hand, she admonishes strongly..

“My jacket is waterproof. I want to walk.”

Mama shrugs her shoulders, says “whatever (I CANT STAND THE WHATEVER) give me a hug, I’m leaving for work”

Hugs the kid, flips me off and hops in her warm, dry van, leaving us in the exhaust fumes to figure it out..

(It’s ok..

she doesn’t have twitter, at least that I know of)..

Off we go in the 37 degree, cold damp, cloudy morning in Las Vegas..

Very quickly, I notice my offspring is walking gingerly like Mahomes did when he got hit in the Browns game..

“Hey, what’s wrong with you, bruh? You good..

or no?”

“I am fine.”

Line is back up to Mama -500.

She is walking like John McClane walking on broken glass in Die Hard..

Tears start to well up, but she is holding her ground..

A few more steps and she goes “why do I have to hold the umbrella?”

Because you wanted..

to walk, that’s why. Is it too heavy?

Tears start to stream down her face.

To this day, despite enough tears to fill planet earth, it still bothers me when any of them cry..

Down on one knee, I stop the Green Mile March..

“Why are you crying? Tell me right now.”

She looked..

me right in the eye like Colonel Jessup, but she did not budge at first..

I asked again, a little more forcefully and definitely a lot louder..

Another pause.

Then this..

“MY FEET HURT, OK! YES, MY FEET HURT. THESE DAMN SHOES ARE TOO SMALL, OK. BUT MAMA WOULDNT STOP SO..

I HAD TO WEAR THEM. THATS WHY IM CRYING, OK?”

Dad dilemma here. If we turn back now, we can make it, get the comfy crocs on, drive to school and not be late.

If we trudge forward, it’s gonna be pain for her & me and no doubt my fault..

“Ok, first of all, stop crying. Second..

do you want to change shoes? I won’t tell Mama.”

Nods.

“We have to run home then. Your feet are going to hurt. I don’t want to hear one word about it. Deal?”

Another nod.

I grab the overstuffed backpack, the umbrella and her hydro and we take off like Secretariat..

I peek over my shoulder and she is a trooper.

We make it back into the house and Grandma and Pap Pap are there having coffee.

Grandma is on Little Consig’s payroll and goes “what’s wrong, baby doll?”

Before she can answer, I go

“The shoes are too small. So we had to come..

Back and change. I want these ones donated or destroyed. We are never wearing them again, EVER.”

Now nobody was talking now. Message was delivered.

As we load up the car, I am bellowing about the importance of listening to your parents and not always thinking you are right..

and she goes,

“Ok, Daddy. I get it. I shoulda listened to you and Mama. You were right.”

VICTORY!!

“I have a question.”

HOLD ALL TICKETS!!

What is your question?

“Are you gonna do a story time from the book about this?”

Whadda you think?

“YES is the favorite.”

WINNER 😂

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