As he was walking his dog one weekday afternoon, Fred, the bookie the bettors loved to hate, saw a young man on the local links.
Fred stopped for a moment to watch him tee off and followed longer when he saw that the boy had talent. The young man had holed his tee shot. He was about to call out his congratulations when the lad teed up again, and once more holed out.
Now Fred, never one to let an opportunity pass, walked up to the youngster, congratulated him and asked, “How old are you?”
“11, sir,” the young person replied.
“Has anyone else here seen you play?” Fred inquired.
Having received the assurance that no one had, Fred proposed a match the next day with the club champion. The odds were handsome – 10 to 1 against the new young player.
The boy, however, took an 11 on the first hole and went on around the course in much the same way. Of course he lost badly. Fred was furious.
“You’ve made me look a fool!” he scolded. “What’s with the idea of pretending you can’t play?”
“Listen” the wiley youngster whispered, “next week you’ll get 100 to 1.”
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