Billion Dollar Bracket E-Book

Drew Bridges

• Herausgeber: BQB Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Many lives collide in this quest to win a billion dollars for picking all the winners in the annual National Collegiate Athletic Association basketball tournament. Some are looking for riches, others for simple survival and personal redemption.

Mathematician Sinclair Dane sponsors the contest, seeking money for a safety net for her troubled mother. She does not have a billion dollars to pay a winner. Risking her reputation and possible legal charges for fraud, she pins her hopes on the astronomical odds against anyone picking all the winners.

Math professor Lewis Cusac uses the basketball contest to teach remedial math to college students, two of whom are playing in the tournament. He enters the contest and finds himself having selected all the winners with only three games remaining. He also gets a call from the NCAA investigators for suspicion of trying to fix the outcomes of games.

Add to the mix a retired casino operator, a group of twenty-something social media wizards, and professional basketball's next megastar.

As the contest goes global, the story races to an ending that will surprise the reader.

Leseprobe

Billion Dollar Bracket

© 2020 Drew Bridges. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published in the United States by BQB Publishing

(an imprint of Boutique of Quality Books Publishing, Inc.)

www.bqbpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-945448-89-8 (p)

ISBN 978-1-945448-90-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020945336

Book design by Robin Krauss, www.bookformatters.com

Cover design by Rebecca Lown, www.rebeccalowndesign.com

First editor: Caleb Guard

Second editor: Andrea Berns

PRAISE FOR BILLION DOLLAR BRACKET AND DREW BRIDGES

“By the end of the first page, I was hooked. Billion Dollar Bracket tells a story about intelligence, big money, mental illness, trust, diversity, and yes, basketball. A fascinating story.”

– Tina Zion, Author, Lecturer

“This book was tailor-made for me, telling the stories of many actors in the drama, with surprises every few chapters. In one of the multiple plot lines, Drew Bridges gives the reader a window into what it means for young athletes to deal with the competing demands of college sports. As a coach, I’ve lived parts of this story.”

– Larry Marciniak, Assistant Basketball Coach at two different high schools and two different colleges in over 15 consecutive seasons

“Drew Bridges keeps you on the edge of your stadium seat as you follow the bouncing ball from the hardwood courts, through the genius of the world of social media, and into the lives of those who embrace the March Madness of NCAA basketball. From the ‘war room’ of a Las Vegas gaming contest, to a small, rural southern university, every chapter changes the game. Who comes out a winner, and who is marked the loser, should come as a big surprise.”

– William R. Finger, author of The Crane Dance: Taking Flight in Midlife

“In this new novel by Drew Bridges there’s a lot to like: razor-sharp insights into the worlds of sports and mathematical probabilities, compelling characters, and a plot that keeps you turning the pages. This is more than a book about basketball. I give it my hearty recommendation.

– Lucy Adkins, co-author of Writing in Community and The Fire Inside (soon to be released)

“An intriguing story about hidden motives in the ultimate betting pool. It’s the NCAA basketball bracket contest on steroids. Odds are you will find Billion Dollar Bracket a winner.

– Robert Moseley, author of Choker

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1:  The Pitch

CHAPTER 2:  The Plan

CHAPTER 3:  Bracketology

CHAPTER 4:  Cheeky

CHAPTER 5:  Student Teaches the Teacher

CHAPTER 6:  Bracket Entries—The Madness Begins

CHAPTER 7:  Cusac’s Balancing Act

CHAPTER 8:  Learning about Legacy

CHAPTER 9:  The Plan Gets Complicated

CHAPTER 10:  Rebecca

CHAPTER 11:  The Rematch

CHAPTER 12:  Two Perfect Brackets

CHAPTER 13:  The Big Reveal

CHAPTER 14:  The Craze Goes Global

CHAPTER 15:  Men in Black

CHAPTER 16:  Hazel’s Fundraiser

CHAPTER 17:  Rebellion

CHAPTER 18:  The Week Before the Final Four

CHAPTER 19:  Beginnings and Endings

CHAPTER 20:  Bracket on the Brink

CHAPTER 21:  Keeping the Team Together

CHAPTER 22:  Two Sides to Success

CHAPTER 23:  What Next?

THE PITCH

“Could I interest you in a proposal that will earn you the easiest $5M you will ever make—no risk—with only a few months of a modest investment of your time?” She tried out various facial expressions and body postures, seeking a verbal and visual punch to the final version of her sales pitch. The mirror gave little feedback.

Still not satisfied with her opening line that she had modified and practiced hundreds of times, Sinclair Dane, head of Dane Statistics, Inc., brushed a piece of lint from the knee of her navy blue pantsuit and turned to answer the ding-dong sound of her office front door. Her first guest had arrived. She took a deep breath as she walked to the door to welcome a much older man who stood a head shorter than her five feet and eight inches. Well indoctrinated in all the subtle mannerisms designed to avoid the appearance of challenging men in positions of power, she felt herself instinctively lower her shoulders and head as she greeted him.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Alinsky; thank you for coming.” She felt relieved to hear her voice come out strong but relaxed, neither hurried nor girlish.

“Name’s Alinsky, not ‘Mister’ Alinsky. Just Alinsky. Would you call Prince ‘Mister’ Prince? You don’t call Madonna ‘Miss’ Madonna, do you? It’s just Alinsky.”

Forcing herself not to smile or otherwise react to the signature grumpiness of one of Las Vegas’s legendary casino owners, Sinclair silently congratulated herself for anticipating how this first meeting would start. She had done her research on his life, his interests, and his accomplishments. Confident that she knew more about him than he knew about her, she believed she could use this information to her advantage. She knew that even after his retirement a decade ago, Alinsky still maintained a high social profile and was sought out regularly by entrepreneurs, despite what some considered a well-manicured rough edge.

The simultaneous arrival of her two other guests cut their greeting short. Rod Browning of Browning Advertising Group came in first, followed by Marilyn Seale, a woman making a name for herself locally with workshops and seminars about social media marketing.

Rod Browning wore a sweat suit and sneakers, and carried no briefcase or even a pen or pencil. Sinclair read this as a sign of minimal interest in the purpose of the meeting. Marilyn Seale, on the other hand, was the picture of a dressed-for-success professional woman. Her thin, leather briefcase plus an easily readable name tag highlighting her business logo accented her long-skirted business look of clearly more style and expense than Sinclair owned.

The necessary introductions took place while everyone walked a short distance to a separate conference room. They took seats around a table that filled up most of the space in the room. The walls displayed few decorations, mostly generic landscapes, photography, and a map of the city of Las Vegas. The room had an unused look to it, chairs showing no wear, and no work papers or documents lay on the table or elsewhere in the room. Alinsky adjusted his chair, lifting the seat to a higher position and moving it a short distance away from where the others were seated. He tugged on the lapels of his vested, gray suit, accessorized with a purple handkerchief in the appropriate pocket, his facial expression suggesting some undeclared irritation or impatience.

Following a minimal amount of small-talk, Sinclair Dane opened a black, leather-bound folder and positioned a pen and writing pad in front of her. The group caught the cue that it was time to start the meeting and grew silent. Alinsky reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a checkbook-sized notepad while Marilyn Seale opened her briefcase to retrieve a small laptop computer, encased in leather that matched her other business tools.

“Are you interested in a proposal to make you the easiest $5M you will ever make?” Sinclair opened. “And would it be even more interesting if I said that $5M could grow to an attractive multiple of that number if we are successful in what I am about to propose?”

All three looked at her without speaking. Their expressions conveyed polite skepticism. They traded quick glances with each other. After a few seconds of silence, Alinsky grunted out, “We’re listening.” Marilyn Seale typed a short note into her computer.

Sinclair continued, “I’m going to assume that since you came here, you have read the information about my background, but just for the record, I’m ten years out of MIT where I studied statistics with an emphasis on probability theory. Since graduation, I’ve been a good girl—or as I would rather say, a good soldier—for two organizations everybody knows. Now I have my own company, and I have an idea. My idea seizes the reality that making money betting on NCAA basketball is an underrealized revenue-generating opportunity.”

“Not an entirely new idea,” growled Alinsky, revealing, if not exaggerating, a Jersey accent. “But go on.”

Sinclair felt encouraged. One version of her expectations for this meeting had Alinsky walking out at this point. He was known to dismiss other business petitioners that quickly, but the man was actually listening to her.

For the next five minutes, Sinclair Dane described in detail her plan to offer a $1B prize for a contest, the purpose of which would be predicting the winners in every game of the NCAA basketball tournament. She carefully reviewed the numbers related to the probability of someone actually producing a perfect bracket, then followed up with an estimate of the revenue from several small entry fee options. Making assumptions from those numbers, she projected a payout of $5M profit for each of the four people in the room.

She ended the opening by repeating, in a somewhat dramatic fashion, the numbers she had polished as her hook. “The odds of someone successfully predicting the outcome of all the games for a tournament involving sixty-eight teams is nine quintillion to one. That’s a nine with sixteen zeroes . . . to one.”

Marilyn Seale softly posed a question: “But what if someone does come up with a perfect bracket? Where do you get $1B? I mean, I’ve heard that Warren Buffet did this kind of thing, but no one in this room is—”

Sinclair Dane interrupted her guest. “I can run those probability numbers by you again if I need to, but is the probability zero? No. There is risk here. But here is more about my reward side of this . . . ” She stood up, walked to the end of the room, and pulled down a cloth cover from a large easel. A poster displayed the words that accompanied a colorful logo: “Dane Statistics, Inc., Statistician to the Odds Makers.”

“If I am right about what I have told you, and what I have yet to tell you”—she spoke slowly for dramatic effect, punching the word “yet” to build interest—“then this will be how I build the agency I want. I’ll tell you my vision for this later, if you’re interested. But if I’m wrong about the numbers, I’ll be teaching remedial math at a community college. That’s my risk. We can structure this so that your risk is zero, and I take all the risk. You can be just someone who is contracting with me. That way I take the risk and a larger share of the reward. Or you can share the—very low—risk and the greater payoff.”

Sinclair returned to her seat without hurry and looked down at her hands resting on the table. She hoped they saw that her fingers did not tremble. Then she spoke, looking up quickly, “But I’m not wrong. And now I have told you the basic outline of how you can walk away with $5M each for simply doing what you already do, no money down, just a little more work in the months of February and March. And with the odds in your favor of nine quintillion to one. So, are you ready to hear how that $5M might grow to a handsome multiple of that number?”

“I doubt this is legal,” Rod Browning put in. “I mean, I’m assuming you don’t have $1B to pay if you are wrong.” He pushed his seat back and reached down to tighten the laces of his running shoes. Sinclair expected him to leave soon. Marilyn Seale started to type, then stopped, sighed, and looked at her hands without speaking, avoiding all eye contact.

Sinclair paused, then stood and paced as she replied, “Legal? Yes, technically speaking. I have good counsel on this. I accept their guidance that we can do it in a way that it skirts all the laws on the books. We start and register it offshore. I’ll tell you exactly where that is when all the ink is dry. Furthermore, we can set it up online in a manner so that it’s ‘not really gambling.’” She made the air quotation sign with her fingers. “It’s a contest, and they pay a processing fee of two dollars, and if they click on the ‘I accept’ button like everyone always does. And they have to click on the accept button if they want a chance to win $1B . . . and . . . and if what they are accepting is written right, we’re home free. And here’s the clincher—we offer them a way to enter free, but with a lot more trouble, print the bracket, fill it out by hand, maybe even get it notarized. But with things like PayPal, everyone’s going to just make a few clicks on whatever device they have and pay the two dollars.”

She paused to gauge the reaction of those in the room, then continued, “But even so, you have to accept the reality that it’s a clean process as long as nobody wins. If someone does, and wants $1B from us, it honestly does get a bit murky. That would put us in uncharted waters.”

Sinclair took a sip of water from a glass on the table and looked at each of the others in turn. She thought she still saw doubt, and she spoke to acknowledge it, to assure them she had really thought the process through, “But here’s the other thing. What I’m getting ready to describe is legal now. It probably won’t be next year if it works. Not far from here, a couple of hotshot state attorneys general are trying to make a name for themselves, and they’d love to jump on this. Or if it works and it stays legal, everybody will be doing it next year. So, we have one shot at this. And if it doesn’t work, and someone comes up with a perfect bracket, we can’t pay.”

Realizing her voice was becoming strident, she forced herself to slow down and be calm. She took another drink of water. She looked at the others; they all remained silent, but she was still hopeful. Alinsky was still in the room. He was the key to moving forward. Without him and his knowledge of gaming and gaming law, it would be difficult to see the process through.

After a deep breath, Sinclair resumed, “And the fact that it’s not technically illegal won’t matter. We could have an injured party and a lawsuit could come. So, it all comes down to this: do you like the odds of nine quintillion to one? If you do, then let me ask you again: do you want to hear more details about how we’re going to do this? To get 35 million people to each send us $2. And do you want to hear about your part in it? It’s January. March will be here before you know it.”

All three guests leaned back, settling into their seats. Alinsky spoke, “I assume you brought doughnuts?”

After searching the faces of the others, Rod Browning pulled his chair back up to the table and asked Marilyn Seale if he could borrow a piece of paper, adding that he had left his cell phone in his car. Sinclair smiled, reached across the table, and slid a pen into his hand.

THE PLAN

Sinclair Dane left her office after the meeting with a mixture of excitement, fear, and worry. Excitement because the meeting accomplished all and more than she had hoped. Alinsky at one point had walked out saying he would not be a party to a fraud, but during the fifteen minutes he was gone, he sat just outside in his 1963 Lincoln Continental and made some phone calls. He then dramatically burst back in the room, just as Sinclair’s two other guests had stood up to leave, telling everyone to sit back down, speaking and gesturing with the comportment of someone who was accustomed to giving orders.

Alinsky poked his chest with his finger and paced around the room, his previously raspy voice now booming with an operatic tone. “I’ve got a plan. This can work! It’s a casino in a computer, this little scheme you’ve hatched. And I know casinos. I don’t know computers, but people who do know computers are a dime a dozen.”

Marilyn and Rod at first looked startled as Alinsky strutted around the room, but he soon calmed himself, and in short order he had described for them a plan for a complex reinsurance scheme whereby a group of casino owners and a reinsurance company would guarantee the $1B payment if it came to that.

“This is what I do,” Alinsky told them as punctuation to his plan. “I talk numbers and odds; people believe in numbers and odds. And when it’s me that’s talking numbers and odds, they listen.”

The three others were in equal measure impressed and amused when Alinsky spoke. He again had become animated, continued to punch his chest with his finger each time he referred to himself, gesturing wildly with both hands, his face bursting with expression that swung from anger to glee. But they listened. They knew he was right.

Then Alinsky changed his tone and quietly presented the more complicated part of the plan, the cost of the arrangement to guarantee $1B payout, if it came to that. Reinsurance would not come cheap. Alinsky promised that he would step up with the advance six figures needed for the reinsurance expense, but only if he got paid first as soon as the money came rolling in.

Sinclair Dane saw her anticipated payday grow smaller with all the other players now involved, but she fought the urge to argue with Alinsky. She knew she could not control everything. She held to confidence in her plan. Most importantly, she remained convinced that no one could produce a perfect bracket, but if someone did win the $1B, it could be paid.

Alinsky then reviewed the only remaining risk, that if there were a perfect bracket, no one would make any money from the overall scheme. All revenues from entries would also go to the guarantor of the $1B payout. Everyone would lose, except the genius that beat the odds and picked a perfect bracket.

Sinclair Dane grew further concerned when Alinsky presented an additional element of the reinsurance scheme, having to do with a lien on her property. The backers Alinsky brought in would want all the key participants to put something at risk. She could lose her house or her office; she could choose which of the two she wanted to make vulnerable. She had to assign risk to some personal property. She wondered if Alinsky was testing her, maybe even trying to steal her idea if she did not put “skin in the game.” Her mind raced behind a face that betrayed little emotion, as she tried to fully understand and accept this relationship with Alinsky. She knew that she needed him. Yet seeing his power and influence in the world of money and his ability to make deals happen, deep down she wondered if she could trust him. She thought back to another time in a board room where a mentor had taken more than one of her ideas—and the credit for them.

Rod Browning and Marilyn Seale refused to put assets at risk, but remained in the partnership under a different sort of contract with a reduced percentage share of the profits. Alinsky took over what they gave up, so he stood as the potential big winner. Toward the end of the meeting he gave them all a list of things for each of them to accomplish in order to make the back-up plan a reality. Just before he left, he turned to Rod and Marilyn and gave them an order, and then repeated it: Whatever marketing and advertising they were cooking up could not mention, name, or in any way refer to the National Collegiate Athletic Association, or use its acronym.

He pointed his finger at each of them in turn as he emphasized, “You do not want the NCAA on your case about this. You can say all you want about basketball brackets and colleges, but not the NCAA.” Sinclair wondered what kinds of history Alinsky had with the NCAA, but she felt it was beyond information she needed or wanted for now.

Rod Browning started to ask for more information about why the NCAA was to be feared, but Alinsky stopped him and repeated, “If you get me started on that now, I’ll never finish. I don’t have time now. Just put it into your little computers and your brains that those four letters, N-C-A-A, are not in your vocabulary. And I mean it. Okay? Conversation over!”

After saying goodbye to Sinclair, Rod and Marilyn left the meeting together and stood outside by her car reviewing what had just taken place.

“I’m a little stunned, I must say,” Marilyn began. “I had no idea what I was coming here for.”

Rod answered, “Ditto for me. I have no idea why I was asked. There’s lots of people at my level in the ad industry. Do you think we should do this? Are we getting into something stupid?”

“Oh, I’m not thinking about backing out,” Marilyn shot back energetically. “We might just have stumbled into something special, something unique. I know about Alinsky. He’s not a crook, but I’ll sure run this by my lawyer. I’ll let you know what she says.”

Sinclair stood alone at her front door and watched them all leave. Getting into her car, she allowed herself a chuckle about how much Alinsky really did look like an aging Danny DeVito, and she silently gave thanks that no one had made a comment about that part of his appearance. References to Danny DeVito were one of several things guaranteed to send the casino mogul into a rage.