Politicians can't back out of a bad bet

In an earlier column, I wrote about politicians throwing out the first pitch at baseball games and why they should avoid doing it at all costs. Another sports-related incident that almost always makes elected officials look foolish is the friendly wager on a sporting event.

Whether it's a governor betting a governor, or a mayor betting a mayor, the dreaded political bet can be quite painful for a politician and, unfortunately, this phenomenon is spreading like contagion.

It used to be that the only time a mayor or a governor had to make a wager with his or her counterpart would be on the World Series, the Super Bowl or another championship, a winner-take all-event. Today, however, politicians - too tone deaf to realize those bets can make a horse's ass out of them - want to bet on virtually everything. A case in point is the recent bet that Luke Ravenstahl, the mayor of Pittsburgh, made with Michael Hancock, the mayor of Denver, on the Steelers-Broncos playoff game. Perhaps Mayor Ravenstahl (who happens to be a friend of mine) thought it was so impossible for the Steelers to lose to the 8-8 Broncos, that he pledged to "Tebow" (publicly kneel in prayer as Tim Tebow often does on game day) wearing a Tebow jersey in front of the US Steel Building. Well, Denver pulled off a miracle and Luke had to face the music. Stupid does not adequately describe how he looked. I saw the picture and shuddered for my friend.

These bets never turn out well. Besides often looking foolish, elected officials also can be made to look as if they are wasting time and/or have nothing better to do. The sad truth about this phenomenon that is sweeping the nation is that, well, I feel partly responsible for starting the movement. It all started relatively harmlessly, though, as I began to wager such local Philadelphia food icons as the cheesesteak, the soft pretzel, Tastykakes etc. But as I moved on from mayor to governor, my judgment became a bit clouded and I began to get a bit more creative with my wagers.

In 2005, the Eagles faced the Patriots in the Super Bowl and I was contacted by then-governor of Massachusetts, Mitt Romney. The proposal was that the loser would don the opposing team's jersey and sing the national anthem at the winning city before a Sixers-Celtics game, and I accepted. Now, as many of you know, I can't sing a lick, but I fell into the same trap Mayor Ravenstahl did recently - I never believed for a second that the Eagles would lose. I later learned that Gov. Romney had a concert-caliber voice. As we all know, the Birds came up short, and it was off to Boston for me.

I couldn't do anything about my voice, but I was determined that I wasn't going to screw up the words to the national anthem in front of thousands of Celtics fans and many more watching on TV. So, for 2 weeks before the game, I carried a card with the lyrics on it and read it over and over every spare minute I had. When game day arrived, I put on a Patriots jersey and walked out to center court with Gov. Romney. But remember, though you may not have agreed with me on certain issues, you'd have to concede that I'm no dope. So I had a secret weapon with me - Midge Rendell, who happens to have a great voice. I sang the first two verses and it was brutal. Philly TV panned to Allen Iverson and Aaron McKie, who were laughing hysterically. When I got to "and the rockets' red glare," Midge took over as we had planned. The crowd, which had sat in quiet disbelief during my woeful, off-key singing, broke out into mild applause after Midge had sung only a few phrases. It was a triumph, and as we ended (I joined her for "land of the free, and the home of the brave"), the camera showed Allen and Aaron high-fiving.

The best wagering experience I ever had was in 2009 when the Steelers played the Cardinals in the Super Bowl (it should have been the Eagles, but that's another conversation). I suggested to Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer that the losing city would offer a trip for two to the losing city with airfare, hotel, restaurants and attractions fully paid for by the losing city's tourist bureau. The Steelers won, and I had to decide how to pick two Pittsburghers to win the trip. We created a contest for a 250-word essay on "Why I love the Steelers." We received 1,400 entries, and I read the top 10-rated essays and had to pick a winner. I thought it would be tough, but it turned out to be easy. The winner wrote that his love of the Steelers went back to going to their games when he was young with his dad. The Steelers were woeful for the early years of his life, but when he was 16, they made it to the AFC Championship Game, which was to be played in Pittsburgh. His dad could get only one ticket, but on the day of the game, both went down to the stadium, certain they could scalp an extra ticket. They couldn't find a single one to buy - no one was selling. So his dad told him to take their one ticket and go to the game. He refused, however, and he wrote that he told his father, "Dad, I have a hunch the Steelers are going to be good for many years to come, and I'll have plenty of chances to see them in title games. You go." His dad did, and the Steelers won. He was overjoyed to have been there. Three months later, he died of a heart attack. As I read his essay, I began to cry thinking of my dad. Well, he and his son went off to vacation in Arizona courtesy of the state tourism bureau and those great Pittsburgh Steelers.

Win or lose, these two experiences created some pretty great memories. Most of my other wagers were memorable only for the fact that I lost and looked foolish, but not as foolish as Mayor Ravenstahl! Now that I am no longer mayor or governor, I have lost my phobia of the dreaded sports wager. So, go Sixers, Flyers, Phils and Eagles!

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