So, there’s a guy in London who has bet £100,000 on Andy Murray winning Wimbledon next Sunday.
I had caught a rumour of the story on Monday, but had it confirmed by a report in a red top on Tuesday.
I don’t know what surprised me more – someone being careless with £100,000 or the number of tabloid-type words and phrases crammed into one article.
Murray was called ‘Muzza’, ‘trouser’ was used instead of win, and Wimbledon was described as ‘Wimbo’.
I mean, really, ‘Muzza’!
Has the boy not got enough on his mind without worrying about what kind of playground-like nicknames the press have for him.
I’ve no idea what it’s like to be a superior athlete or have the celebrity status he does, but wouldn’t the fact someone had staked £100,000 on your performance worry you?
My children went through a gambling phase when they were younger.
They would bet on absolutely everything – who would finish their dinner first, who could eat a dry cream cracker the quickest and who could burp the most after ‘downing’ cans of Irn Bru?
It drove me crazy, and very often it made them ill.
In fact there was a whole week when all three of these bets seemed to happen within five minutes of each other.
It almost always made Emma throw up, and Gary would turn green.
But the prospect of winning a few pounds, or even just get the better of each other would mean they would keep doing it, coming up with new and ingenious ways to be just plain silly.
But, children will be children ...
I suppose then that Andy Murray and his brother Jamie – sorry Muzza and his bro Jamza – shared a bet or two when they were small, and surely some would have been tennis-related.
So maybe Andy won’t care about this £100,000 bet.
I’d assume 15,000 people chanting his name is a bigger deal to him, but thankfully those people will be shouting ‘Murray’ and nothing else.