Eagles minus 2 1/2, the Ravens minus-13 1/2 and the Colts minus-7 1/2. If all three cover the point spread, Rudd wins $110. He walked away from the windows thinking he could win $90.

Close enough for government work, except that Rudd, a lean, dapper, gray-haired guy, dismantles nuclear reactors for a living, and you hope his arithmetic improves when he's on the job.

"Yep," Rudd conceded, he'd rather be making bets on one game at a time, "but this was a start for Delaware."

Single-game bets on football, basketball, hockey, baseball, college sports, that was Delaware's dream. Lure gamblers from New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania. Use the $53 million they'd leave behind to help hire more teachers and more cops.

(You always need more cops because statistics show that crime jumps 10 percent in areas with casinos and the number of gambling addicts doubles. Yo, stop with the negativity. Don't rain on Delaware's parade, first day of legal parlay betting.)

Let the record show that there was no parade. No brass band. Lots of Delaware Park brass though, including president Bill Fasy, who ignored the odds by asking the cynical media to do a positive story about the event.

You go to a pool party expecting Heidi Klum in a bikini and you get Heidi, the goatkeeper's daughter, in leiderhosen, how positive a story can you write?

So how did Fasy feel when the Court of Appeals stuffed Delaware's dreams in the shredder and told 'em they couldn't book single-game bets on hockey, basketball, baseball and college sports and could only accept parlay wagers on NFL games with a minimum of three teams?

"It felt," Fasy confessed, "like they'd let the air out of the tires, all four tires, while you were driving down the highway."

Delaware Park had already spent a million bucks installing a handsome odds board with color-coded lights, a couple dozen high-def television screens. Harrington and Dover did some expensive renovating, too. Add in the licensing fees, advertising, marketing, added personnel, and those ill-conceived referee shirts for the tellers (somewhere Tim Donaghy is giggling) and you have an $11 million bad bet.

Fasy did what all good CEOs do, in good times and bad times. Scrambled out of the wreckage, dusted himself off, and seemed genuinely excited about the parlay cards and the odds they offered. Times are so bad that even the people who don't intend to pay ain't buying.

So let's take a look at the three cards and the odds they offer. First off, every point spread has a "hook" (the 1/2-point fraction) so that there are no ties. A parlay-card tie is like kissing your sister's schnauzer.

We've already covered the payoff on a three-team parlay, $110 for every $20 you bet. That's standard. One of the worst bets is 10-to-1 for a four-teamer. It ought to be almost 15-to-1, so the house has a 30 percent edge right there. There are no plans to offer a consolation payoff if you get three of four right, or even nine of 10.

Pick 10 of 10 and you can dismantle nuclear reactors blindfolded and you collect $1,600 for your $2.

Not enough incentive for you to drive 40 miles? Perhaps the six-point teaser card is your cup of hemlock? Here, the line is adjusted, so that the Eagles, a 2 1/2-point favorite, become a 3 1/2-point underdog. Sounds great, but not so fast, Tastykake breath, the payoffs are adjusted, too, so that a four-teamer gets you only $70 for a $20 bet.

And then there's the super-teaser card, with the point spread padded by 10 points. The Eagles are now a 6 1/2-point underdog, the Bucs get 16 1/2 from the Cowboys, and Monday night you only have to give 1 1/2 betting the Chargers over the woeful Raiders.

Bet $20 on a four-team super teaser and it hits, you only win $24. Pick nine out of nine and you win $120 for your $20.

However skimpy those odds might seem, they are all 110 yards ahead of the odds on the Powerball lottery, which is really a tax on the poor to help the elderly. And have you seen the new Pennsylvania Lottery game that features the Eagles and the Steelers?

Whatever happened to the National Football League's tough stance against gambling? "Hypocritical," Fasy grumbled, and he was right on the money.