Football Dynasty-Chapter 4: Bet

Betting.

This wasn't a difficult to think of. The World Cup was about to begin, and this tournament would go down as one of the most iconic in football history.

For the 1986 World Cup, the British Isles sent three representatives—Northern Ireland, England, and Scotland—each determined to make their mark on the world stage.

The format had changed once again. For the first time since 1970, the second round returned to a knockout system, where the six group winners, six runners-up, and the four best third-placed teams would advance.

Football fever had gripped the nation. The Britain was obsessed with the World Cup, especially after fans were eager to see England excel at the competition, hoping to show the world that banning English teams from the three main tournaments was a loss for Europe and the world alike!

News about the tournament dominated the media. As someone who had witnessed the event firsthand—even if from the perspective of a ghost—Richard knew exactly what was coming and that was why this World Cup was the perfect opportunity to bet.

A tournament of drama and legend—from the controversy over why Mexico hosted instead of Colombia, to the new format and teams, the intense group stage battles, and finally, the infamous "Hand of God"—this World Cup was one for the ages.

If there was ever a moment to take a gamble, this was it.

After going through the list of competing nations and writing down everything he could remember, Richard was done. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the table as he stared at his notes.

He didn't have unlimited funds—only £15,000.

That meant every move had to be calculated, precise. However, he also knew that his memory wasn't perfect. The most crucial thing was to test whether the events he had witnessed as a ghost would truly unfold as he remembered.

With caution in mind, Richard decided to start by betting £10,000. Instead of playing it safe with favorites, he would take a different approach—placing his bets on teams that were underestimated, the ones no one expected to go far.

His choices?

The Soviet Union and Morocco.

Both teams were overlooked, dismissed as unlikely to make an impact. But Richard knew better. If his memory served him right, they would surprise everyone. With his preparations complete, he set his notes aside, exhaled deeply, and climbed into bed.

Tomorrow, he would put his plan into motion. As he closed his eyes, a single thought lingered in his mind.

'If this works, everything changes.'

Betting on football matches is hugely popular in the UK, especially on a grand stage like the World Cup.

After all, William Hall and Ladbrakes—both giants in the betting industry—are British companies, making football wagering a common pastime.

While West and Central London had the largest concentration of betting shops, North, South and East wasn't far behind.

Several well-established gambling firms had a presence in the city, though their branches were smaller and less extravagant. Still, they were easily accessible, allowing football enthusiasts to place their bets without much trouble.

Arriving at the William Hill betting station on Streatfield Road, Richard took a deep breath before stepping inside.

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Men—mostly middle-aged or older—were gathered around newspapers, studying match fixtures and odds with serious expressions.

Some scribbled notes on betting slips, while others lingered near the counters, discussing potential outcomes in hushed voices before placing their wagers.

Richard scanned the upcoming fixtures. The first match that caught his eye: Bulgaria vs. Italy.

His excitement spiked. This was the perfect opportunity to test his knowledge. Wasting no time, he checked the odds.

The most basic betting options were straightforward: Team A to win, Draw, or Team B to win.

When his eyes landed on the listed odds, a smile crept onto his face.

Italy to Win – 1:1:2

Bulgaria to Win – 1:10

The odds told a clear story. If you bet £1 on Italy, you would win £2 (plus your original £1 back). On the other hand, if you bet £1 on Bulgaria and they pulled off an upset, you would win £10 (plus your original £1 back).

It wasn't surprising—Italy was heavily favored. Serie A was still one of the most dominant leagues in the world, producing some of the finest players.

The general expectation was that Italy would win comfortably. But Richard wasn't here to follow the crowd.

He had other plans.

His eyes drifted toward the draw odds—1:3. If his memory was right, this match wouldn't have a winner.

He filled out his betting slip with steady hands, carefully writing: Bulgaria vs. Italy – Draw – £150.

Sliding it across the counter along with the cash, he watched as the bookmaker, a gruff-looking man with tired eyes, took it, glanced at him, then stamped the slip with a dull thud.

"A draw, huh?" the bookmaker muttered, arching an eyebrow. "Most are backing Italy. You sure about this, lad?"

Richard simply nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Just a gut feeling."

The bookmaker gave a small shrug, handing back his betting receipt. "Well, best of luck. Could be an easy payday if you're right."

Richard pocketed the slip and stepped back, exhaling slowly. Now, all he could do was wait.

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The next day, Richard returned to the William Hill, his hands tucked into his pockets as he walked through the morning bustle of London. Just as he had expected, Bulgaria vs. Italy had ended in a draw.

The final whistle had confirmed it—his first bet was a success.

Pushing open the door, he stepped inside. The atmosphere was much the same as the day before—men hovered over newspapers, muttering about results, some celebrating small wins, others lamenting their losses.

Richard approached the counter and handed over his betting slip to the same bookmaker from the previous day.

The man barely glanced at it before stamping it, pulling out a wad of cash, and counting the notes. He then slid £600 across the counter—£450 in winnings, plus the original £150 stake.

"Looks like you had a good feeling after all," the bookmaker remarked.

Richard took the cash without much reaction, tucking it into his pocket and giving a small nod. "Guess I did."

The bookmaker smirked. "Well, let me know if you get another 'gut feeling' like that."

But Richard didn't take the bait. He wasn't here for small talk—he was playing it safe. Without a word, he turned and walked out, heading toward his next target—Ladbrakes.

Rather than relying on a single betting company, he planned to spread his wagers across multiple bookmakers. He would distribute them across two or three well-known firms.

This would help him minimize risk and more importantly, avoid drawing too much attention to himself. With £15,600 in hand, Richard was ready for his next move.

This time, he wasn't just placing simple bets on match outcomes—he was thinking bigger. His strategy? An automatic accumulation bet.

Rather than placing a single wager on the Soviet Union and Morocco to qualify from their respective groups, he opted for an accumulator-style bet.

This meant that instead of betting directly on their advancement, his wager would roll over automatically, match by match, compounding his potential winnings.

The advantage was clear: if both teams performed well, each successful bet would multiply his earnings instead of cashing out after every match. A single win wouldn't mean much, but if the results lined up, the final payout could be massive.

Of course, this approach carried significant risk.

Neither the Soviet Union nor Morocco was expected to dominate their groups, and they wouldn't win every game. But that was precisely why Richard liked this bet—it was concealed within a mix of results, making it less obvious.

Once his bets were placed, Richard had no intention of returning after every match to collect winnings. That would only draw unnecessary attention. Instead, he would wait until the group stage was over. Only then would he return—if everything went as planned.

In the days that followed, Richard settled into a quiet routine. During the day, he helped his mother around the house, but in the evenings, he made his way to a nearby pub to watch the World Cup matches.

By now, his hypothesis was confirmed—what he had seen in the future was real. Every match, every result unfolded exactly as he remembered.

His gains were massive.

As the group stage progressed, Richard decided to get his father and brother involved, casually suggesting that they place small bets for fun—just enough to make the games more exciting. His father hesitated, ever the cautious man, but Harry, who had just landed a job, was a little more open to the idea.

In the end, they agreed, but only in moderation. His father put in £30, while Harry added £15, both warning Richard not to get too carried away or start believing in easy money.

Richard nodded instantly. He wasn't about to argue—after all, things at home had only just begun to improve.

His brother had secured stable employment, and for the first time in a long while, there was a sense of normalcy after Richard's recovery.

For them, betting was nothing more than harmless fun—a small indulgence in the excitement of the World Cup. More importantly, they saw it as a way to keep Richard's mind off his injury. If his little obsession kept his spirits up, then so be it. If it ever got out of hand, they would step in.

After the group stage concluded, Richard returned home feeling refreshed, a thick wad of cash in hand. His success rate was unmatched—he had outperformed nearly every other bettor.

His bets had been a masterstroke, backing underdogs and securing incredible odds:

Soviet Union 6–0 Hungary - odds 3:1

France 1–1 Soviet Union - odds 1:25

Soviet Union 2–0 Canada - odds 1:2

Morocco 0–0 Poland - odds 1:6

England 0–0 Morocco - odds 25:1

Portugal 1–3 Morocco - odds 20:1

Even the bookmakers was taken aback by his winning results.

Nearly all of his bets had hit, and the fact that he had backed unpopular teams made it even more surprising. However, they didn't mind too much—if anything, they saw an opportunity.

Rather than being upset, they considered promoting his success as an example to encourage others to place riskier bets.

Against this backdrop, Richard felt at ease as he cashed out his winnings. After all, what he had earned came from the losses of other bettors.

Naturally, as elite bookmakers, they were still making money—especially with frequent upsets of the results, most gamblers suffered huge losses. Speaking of it, conspiracy theories about match-fixing surely thrived at times like this.

Still, when Richard went to cash out, the bookmakers were like wolves—they weren't about to let a high-roller like him walk away so easily.

They tempted him to stay, subtly nudging him toward betting again in the knockout stage. Some even teased him with the promise of better odds if he continued wagering.

"Don't worry," Richard said as he patted his chest. "I'll be back—and I'll double my money."

Only then did they finally let him walk out easily, satisfied with his promise to return.

Richard took the money with a grin, retreating to his room to count his winnings in private. From his initial £15,000, his journey had been nothing short of remarkable.

It all started with a £450 win from the Italy vs. Bulgaria match. From there, he split his remaining funds, placing £7,700 each on the Soviet Union and Morocco, leaving £50 aside for transportation and pocket money.

Now, after the group stage had ended, his total winnings stood at a staggering £223,300!

Richard dashed into the living room, only to find his father and older brother looking utterly dejected. Unlike him, they had bet on England. Their mistake lay in Group F—they had assumed both Portugal and England would advance.

After Portugal's shocking victory over England in the opening match, many believed they were on course to qualify. However, two consecutive losses sent them packing instead. Fortunately, they had only bet on England reaching the knockout stage.

Had they gotten greedy and shifted their bets to Portugal, things could have gone very differently. Thankfully, they stayed loyal to the Three Lions. Still, even though they had nearly broken even, they still felt like losers—disappointed by England's performance.

"Give me the pen!" Harry, frustrated, snatched the pen from Richard's hand and quickly scribbled down England's name on the betting sheet. With a determined look, he handed it back. "There's no way England loses to Paraguay!"

Bryan hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement, then followed suit, writing down England's name on his own sheet.

Richard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Betting on England again?

But after thinking it through, he relaxed. England should win this one. Still, after this, he'd have to put a stop to their blind faith in England—before they ended up losing everything.