The lone person who might understand…

I’ve told plenty of stories about how gaining and losing success is not something most people relate to. And how the particular way it happened to me is an even more unique path. One that even experienced therapists couldn’t put a finger on. Sometimes I feel entirely alone in that world.

But there IS one exception.

I once read a story about an extremely successful pro sports bettor who had begun supporting himself that way sometime in the 1970s. By the time he was in his 40s, he had a net worth of almost 10 million dollars. Was already starting to put his kids through college. I’m sure he felt like he was living the dream, and always would.

Then came the 1985 World Series. And that was when his life changed.

The St Louis Cardinals were playing the Kansas City Royals, and the Cardinals were a 2 to 1 favorite to win the series. This gentleman wagered $2 million to profit $1 million on the Cardinals. Notice the first parallel here to my story? No one should ever risk 20% of their net worth on a bet like that. Or even close. I imagine that he was too blinded by his past profits to care enough about making those kinds of mistakes. Something I know quite well. Continuing on:

St Louis won 3 of the first 4 games. For those who aren’t familiar with American sports, the World Series is the best of 7 (meaning that you keep playing games until one team has won four times). So, the Cardinals were one win away from the title. And that was despite one of their key players suffering a fluke injury early in the series. So, while this guy had risked too much on the Cardinals, he had a really good chance of getting away with it this time.

They lost Game 5. Then, in Game 6, the Cards were ahead 1-0 going to the bottom of the 9th inning. Three outs away. And that was when one infamous moment in time changed everything:

Kansas City’s first hitter should have been out, but a terrible call by the umpire left him safe at first base. That call is still talked about to this day in the baseball world.

KC came back and won the game 2-1. Then they destroyed the Cardinals in game 7, winning the title. And costing that bettor an agonizing $2 million loss. But hey, despite all that, he still had a net worth of $8 million. Time to move on, try and get past it, learn from your mistake, and so on, right?

Well, the guy never recovered.

When he was interviewed about all of this about 10 years later, he was in the basement of a modest house with baseball games on everywhere. Trying to paste together some new success a thousand bucks or two at a time. Wondering if he was ever going to have enough capital again. How he’d pay back borrowed money. His kids were trying to be as supportive as they could (not financially, but any other way possible). They had so much appreciation for what he’d done for them growing up, but now their dad hadn’t been the same person for a long time.

And they didn’t know if he ever would be. Once things turned downhill, his bad habits trumped his skills from then on. The overbetting that used to help his results was now a highly destructive problem (as it always will be at some point, no matter how good you are). It didn’t matter how talented he was at his craft, or how many years he’d done so well in the past.

Now that I’ve been in the same boat for such a long time, I wish I could find that story again. Can’t even see a trace of it on the internet. He’s the only person I’ve ever read about who so closely mirrors my own strengths/weaknesses and rise/fall.

I’d love to talk to him. Let him know that I get it. Hear the rest of his story. Find out if he ever got things turned around.

Before it’s too late for me to do the same.

Living with regret. But what about dying with it?

I recently wrote about how the “new” world we live in had taken my mind down an uncomfortable path that just wasn’t usually me. A little while ago, that continued to happen.

After a bad dream just now (one that was like my norm in some ways, but had a couple new twists to it), I woke up thinking a lot more about mortality than I usually would. But it’s not from a fear of dying from COVID; it mostly stems from seeing all the pictures and stories about it lately, and wondering if something very grim could be happening for the world’s near and distant future.

As I’ve mentioned too often in the past, I have been living with enough regret to fill a novel. And how the doubt that I’ll ever conquer the issues that caused that regret (combined with how I’m just not the type that can easily let the past go, especially while my current life is such a disappointment) means that I could easily be taking a ton of baggage to my grave.

I can’t imagine what it would be like to feel that way. On your deathbed, alone. Being unable to shake the thought that your life, which was always an emotional struggle during the best times anyway, peaked in your early 30s. And after that, failure overtook most things from that point on.

That you let SO much potential go to waste before long. If I listed what I’ve accomplished in my life at some point…..from sports to academics to career…..you wouldn’t even believe it was the same person who writes this blog today.

But that despite those strengths and abilities, you weren’t strong enough to battle through the bad habits, the weakness, the unhappiness, and so many other demons. That too often, you barely even made a dent in those. Despite having a very long time to find a way to.

And that in the end, the world got the best of you.

When the unexpected mirror appears

Recently I won an auction lot for just $20 that had a bunch of old baseball memorabilia. Just wanted to enjoy the nostalgia of the knick knacks from the collection. Each item wasn’t worth much at all individually, but there was so much that it added up to a really good deal. Plus, it would be an interesting one-time detour from my usual nothing but cards, cards, cards.

Sent the payment and got the package. Noticed it cost him 10 bucks to even ship it to me. He basically got next to nothing. Decided to do something I normally wouldn’t (and certainly won’t be able to when profit margins become vital again once I get back in this business soon, but anyway)…..

Messaged the guy and said “hey, this just isn’t right. I’m unofficially doubling my bid to $40. Sent the rest to you already”. He replies and says “thanks, I’m just a 72 year old guy who has no one to leave my collection to. So I hope it ends up in the hands of people who appreciate it”.

Wow. Talk about something hitting home. That news basically turned my entire screen into a mirror.

If I manage to make it to the year 2047, I will still remember the day 27 years prior when a lonely older man from Michigan not only put some faith in a stranger, but unknowingly showed him a troubling glimpse of his future too. But despite how that look down the road is pretty sad, at least a little something better can come from it now.

Because I will always protect this modest part of his collection like it came from my own childhood. He seems like someone who deserves that.

Hopefully when I’m in the same shoes at that age, I will too.

Lost and not found

Earlier today, things were alright for awhile (er, yesterday, considering it’s 4:15 AM now). Logged some extra info for my probable upcoming endeavors. Decided to talk to the manager here tomorrow about whether or not we’re all going to break protocol and just have me keep my apartment for an extra month or two while the world is stopped. Got some good dinner.

Then, the news came out about the US staying shut down until at least the end of April. Talked to my mom and learned some new info from a good friend. Didn’t take long for things to change.

For the first time since I can remember, I actually felt lost. Figuratively. Even with all of my issues, I usually feel calm and informed about future possibilities (regardless of how good or bad they might be). But this time, the uncertainty of not just my, but especially everyone’s, future has taken my mind on an uncomfortable path. Because despite all my demons and current life difficulties, I always feel like I have a rational baseline for myself and the world around me. So this is not something I’m used to.

As some of you know, there are so many parts of life that I literally have lost. Those constant reminders keep me down enough, so I really don’t need the figurative version to join in too.

So much negativity. And I detest sounding this way, because I don’t like spreading that mood to other people or coming off so whiny about it.

But at this moment, I am feeling less hope than I ever have. About myself and the rest of society. For both current and future times. And I imagine that some will think cliches like “as everything seems bleakest, that’s when it’ll turn around when you least expect it”. The thing is though, I just have a sense of irreversible doom upcoming instead. Not anything earth-shattering all at once, but still a fairly steep decline.

For once, I hope I’m wrong.

The magic 8 ball is stuck

Today I made an unusual amount of progress when it comes to planning my career future. You’d think that would be a good thing:

I got caught up with a very knowledgeable close friend (a fellow advantage gambling pro), and found out some info that may cut down on the prep time that I need to do in my new city. Talked to another friend in that industry, and she said that she’d like for me to work with her at her company in that city. Looked at the latest environment for other 9 to 5 jobs in my “traditional” work field of recent years.

Realized that it might be worth a shot to turn my second wind of baseball card involvement into a side business on ebay. Talked with that knowledgeable friend above about that too, since he used to be a full-time seller years ago.

Unfortunately, these were the results:

Advantage gambling part to full time: The profitable opportunities are still not very plentiful for someone in my situation. Outlook not so good

Working that 9 to 5 with my friend: Her heart in the right place, but it’s just tough to see her following through with that (and it working out). Outlook not so good.

Other 9 to 5 jobs: Naturally places don’t seem to be focused on hiring at the moment for white collar work. Tough to tell how long it will take the world to get back to normal. Outlook not so good.

Selling cards as a side business on ebay: With all the competition out there (and the ebay fees and other transaction costs to buy and sell), it’s just tough to get the profit margins needed for a one-person operation that can’t sell in bulk. Even with my experience in that business. Outlook not so good.

Yup. The magic 8 ball appears to be stuck.

My past choices have gotten me painted into this corner, and now it’s gonna be tough to avoid paying the price for them. And needless to say, having to wait on the world to begin functioning again just makes things more difficult.

It might be kinda boring to just work in a cubicle all your life. To know exactly what the next day will be. Bring home that same paycheck, pay those same bills, and then do it all over and over and over again. But at least it’s normal.

My life is not normal.

Frozen again….but not for the usual reasons

This entry is going to sound selfish. Basically because I’ve spent my non-anonymous life looking out for society in the last few weeks. So, the selfish part of things is ending up here.

Back on March 11, I was about 12 hours away from leaving on a road trip that was the first step in preparing for the next part of life. Then that evening, the NBA suspended the rest of its season. By the following morning, you could already tell that other shutdown dominoes were likely to fall before long. There was no point in going on the trip, because I need to see my target city with its normal everyday life to make the best decisions about my future.

I was expecting to reschedule everything for a couple months later. Not good, but things could’ve been a lot worse.

And then, well, the last 11 days hit us. The “a lot worse” part did happen, and just that fast.

Now the dynamics have changed. If this mess continues for many months (and I have optimistic reasons to think that maybe it won’t, but still)……then beginning a new life again will be much more problematic. Cause while I had timed my plans in just the needed way, there wasn’t a whole lot of wiggle room. Given when my lease runs out, that was largely out of my control.

It wouldn’t have probably mattered, though. Had it not been for the world shutting down.

Now, I don’t know what finding a new 9 to 5 job in the new city will be like, if I choose to go that route. It certainly will be a much worse world to get hired in for quite some time, especially for white collar work. Regardless of when corona has run its course.

And like many people, income and livelihood issues could come into play. Stuff I would’ve had under control, if it weren’t for these unprecedented times. I have my apartment through the end of April, and as that time nears, I’ll take some next steps based on how everything has progressed between now and then.

But until then, life is frozen. And for once, it’s not because of my own issues. Quite surreal.

Not sure which version of time freezing is worse. But neither is healthy for someone, and having to fight two versions of it at once is not fun.

Especially for a depressive loner.

Misery does “not” love company

While I realize how that title cliche…without my adjustment, of course….. partially implies that some unhappy people want others to be miserable too (to feel better about themselves), I have never agreed with the other interpretation that miserable people want to actually be around other miserable ones. IME, those who are unhappy and depressed are more likely to push others away (either directly or indirectly). And personally, I am never comfortable with my issues or any negativity adversely affecting others.

Back when I was doing well in my career, this wasn’t quite as much of a problem. Some of us few people who earn a living at either financial market trading or advantage gambling tend to meet each other eventually at some point. It’s a fairly unique (and very difficult) combination skillset, mindset, and knowledge mix that most don’t possess, and so there’s an underlying respect for anyone who can support themselves that way.

Unless you mess it up, that is.

You see, my friends from that walk of life have not dealt with most of my problems and failures. They may not have the most healthy overall mindset and ways of enjoying their daily existence (even the ones who are married with kids), but at least they are still able to keep their edge. Both careerwise and overall in life.

So when I started to have my worst times in recent years (the ones that, for the first time, I haven’t been able to dig out of), that made the rest of my life worse as well. Beyond anything financially. Not only was there the hurt of losing what I had, but there’s also the shame of being the only failure among my mix of friends and confidants in the trading/advantage gambling world.

I’m not one who spends much time concerned about what others think of me, but this was an exception to that rule. Losing the respect of those uniquely successful people is a hit to your pride. And while only one of them has ever really shown that he thinks less of me now than he did a dozen years ago (and that one, ironically, is by far the least skilled of them all), I know that they’re all thinking it.

How could they not? After all, I am the ONLY one out of that circle who isn’t still a successful person with a better life. The only one who became a screwup. The only one who doesn’t have the freedom to do what he wants anymore.

As you can imagine, that has just fueled my loner tendencies that much more. I barely keep in touch with any of those guys lately. Not only because of the shame and embarrassment, but because I’m not part of their world nearly as much now. They’re the ones still plugging away to make a nice living, while I’m still mostly back at square one.

It’s yet another part of my life that’s worse than it used to be. This downward spiral has taken so, so much.

The only question now is: how much of this lost life can I ever manage to get back?

Depression. All signs are not the same.

As I sit here listening to Enigma’s MCMXC a.D. album (amazing escapist music, especially the first half of the album), it’s a reminder of my early 20s, when the roots of my lifelong depression were firmly sunken in and I felt the worst emotional pain of my life. I listened to this album often then, as I sat alone in the dark and the tears flowed.

Those who’ve read my blog may be surprised by that, since I’ve written so much about my troubles in recent years. But the thing is, this current time period hasn’t really been about “pain”; it’s been mostly about regret, frustration, hopelessness, and, most of all, emptiness. I am a shell of my former self (both physically and emotionally), and that makes you somewhat impervious to feeling that hurt. By anyone or anything.

But back in those earlier years, it felt like I still had a lot more to live for down the road. And I had yet to get through the emotionally crushing basis that began my depression. It was a much different way of feeling so down about life.

I’ve always felt that the past pain was worse than the current emptiness. But lately, I’m not so sure.

At least then I felt something.

Baseball good ol’ days, part 2 of 2

My other baseball story from awhile back was about team glory. This one is about personal accomplishment, and I imagine anyone who loved being on the diamond as a kid can relate.

Late spring 1987. The goody good suburban ’80s were in full swing in my hometown, and my best time of the year was about to start: Little League baseball.

You see, the older kids had the limelight of football and basketball. But when you were a tween, the youth sports world revolved around one place: what was (at the time) the only LL field in town, right next to the high school football field. If you were a player during that time of year, you often wore your team’s jersey to school on game days (just like the HS football players did). This was serious biz.

The bleachers were always full of people watching, and there was even a food concession stand there too. And in clear view at that stand was always a list of everyone who had hit a home run that season (along with how many).

I didn’t simply want to get on that list. I HAD to.

It was always a childhood fantasy to hit one out. Not in the backyard (that was nothing), but during a real game. With the fans reacting and the scoreboard changing. During my 10 and 11 year old LL seasons, that hadn’t happened, but it didn’t bother me at all (as very few guys would hit homers at that field before their last season as 12 year olds).

Now, it was time. And before that final season began, my dad noticed a hitch in my swing that I’d developed (which led to us combining to come up with an adjustment at the plate that gave my bat more pop). Clearing the fence at that field was now easy in practice. I just had to do it when it counted.

Early in the season, I hit one off the base of the fence. A few games later, a deep shot clanged square off the top of it. So it only seemed like a matter of time, especially since I hadn’t really gotten into one yet.

But to my surprise and, before long, ever-growing frustration, it continued to elude me.

Before I knew it, the season was halfway over. At that point I started to press and went into a slump for a couple weeks, which just made things worse. Took a deep breath and got back on track eventually, but by then, I had almost run out of chances. All that was left was the short postseason (single elimination) tournament. Since we had only won three games all year, that meant that I probably had only one more shot.

Sure there were the all star games coming up too, but I couldn’t count on that. Plus, it just wouldn’t have been the same. It only seemed right to do it on my home field.

I singled in my first at bat. My next time up, we were ahead 2-1 with runners on second and third. A teammate yelled “we need these ribbies”.

The pitcher (and yes I remember who it was, but not saying here) laid one right down the middle. I swung. A long line drive took off to left field. And….

I didn’t even see what happened next. Why? Because my dad and I always made a point for the hitter to never watch the ball on his way to first base. Even in this spot, I held true to that. Despite the fact that I wasn’t sure if it was too much of a liner to get out.

So I only heard a unique roar from our side of the stands. Given that no one else on our team had homered all year, I knew what that meant. As I was getting to first base, I finally saw the left fielder at the fence, looking calmly beyond it, and that was when it was certain that it was gone. The scoreboard now said 5-1.

I don’t think I left a footprint the rest of the way around the bases. People took off to find the ball for me. It still sits at the house where I grew up, along with the other home run ball that I hit a little later during all-star competition (cause hey, the pressure was off then).

Anyway, we ended up losing 18-5 that day. But after I went deep, no one seemed to care that much (especially since we knew our poor last place team was just playing out the string.) And I’d like to think it was also because everyone else in the dugout lived the moment with me.

Which made it even that much better.

Boys and cleaning. Going as you’d expect…

Boys and cleaning, complete with thoughts. Wood floor edition. First experience with Swiffer wet jet this evening:

“Ok there are practically no instructions here. What if this wasn’t the google age? Not going to look anyway; that’s extra effort”

“Does this strip peel off of the pad before attaching? Maybe I should google anyway. Nah.”

“What, this uses batteries? I already took everything out of the box. No batteries and I don’t have any of these. Mother f$%*$% this needs done tonight wtf am I gon…..wait, it says batteries are in here. Um, oh, they’re hidden behind what seemed like the end of the box. Is cleanliness really worth all this?!?”

*Turns on. whirrrr* “Why isn’t this spraying? I clicked in the fluid container the way it says. Just going to stare at it until it works”

*five minutes later, reaching in and adjusting* “Guess I should mess with the fluid again, but no way could it go…..hmmm it did sorta click this way too. Oh there’s the spray”

Once (sorta) finished…..”this didn’t pick up as much as I thought it would. After all that it’s just a glorified mop, and I have to sweep too?” Game set match for today.