"You want to bet me?" John said timidly.
The man stared at him in astonishment. So did I. To the best of my knowledge, John had never in his seven years made a bet on anything. Certainly not with total strangers. The man started to grin.
"Who you for?" he said.
" Dartmouth," John said.
This, too, was news to me. Until that morning, when I had explained before we left the house who would be playing in the game we were about to see, neither of my sons had ever heard of either Yale or Dartmouth. Why should they? I am a C.C.N.Y. man myself. The man's grin grew wider.
"How much you want to bet?" he said.
"A dollar," John said, and he astonished me further by pulling a crumpled dollar bill from his pocket. "Here."
"That's a lot of money," the man said. "Where'd you get it?"
"I saved it from my birthday," John said.
"Maybe you better ask your daddy first," the man said. "He may not want you to lose that much money."