“So explainto me one more time what’s behind your abundance of confidence in our game today,” I said, still trying to make sense of his optimism.
“It’s been a week of upsets. Basketball, baseball, hockey—almost every game I’ve turned on has been this crazy case of the underdog coming out on top.”
“And you’re equating our absolute garbage team with the Lakers or whatever?”
“The Lakers aren’t an underdog,” he said.
“Well, whoever. You think there’s something in the universe this week that will propel us past the actual athletes on the other team? I mean, sure, I’m game. Let’s play those odds.”
“It has nothing to do with odds,” he said, seeming annoyed that I was dissecting his hairbrained logic with something that involved actual numbers.
“Of course it does. Every situation has odds, no matter how slim. The odds eventually favor a situation that seems unlikely.”
“But that’s not why I think we’ll win,” he said, starting to walk faster after looking at his phone. That meant we were probably running late, so I picked up my pace. “I just have a feeling. Please don’t discount the validity of a feeling.”
“I would never. You and your feelings are safe from judgment.”
Agreeing to believe in our odds, we started to walk a little faster.