Years ago we were on a cruise in the Bahamas. One stop allowed us a day of sightseeing and gambling. I was in a casino playing blackjack. The dealer and another player were talking sports, mostly football. At some point the topic changed and Mr. Knowitall was telling the dealer all about Wimbledon and why this one had dominated and why this other one should think about retiring.

I instantly thought, hey we are playing blackjack here, deal the cards a little faster. Who cares about tennis. But I never said anything.

A few minutes later the subject went back to football and the Dallas Cowboys was the real focus. I was just getting ready to let them both know that I knew little about the Cowboys myself. I still really liked them in those days. It was in the Tom Landry days before Jerry Jones rode into Dallas on a turnip truck.

Just before I started dumping all my knowledge out for the two sports geniuses to digest, I looked up to see my fellow blackjack player was Pat Summerall, the foremost authority on pro-football and the broadcaster that covered more Cowboys games probably than any other person alive.

I played a few more hands before slinking away from the table counting my blessings that I hadn’t made a major fool out of myself.