The Betting Man's Pundit

By STEVE LOPEZ

There were two reasons Max Nevis, like most other Americans who live beyond the Beltway, could not bring himself to watch much of the Republican wingding staged in his very own South Philadelphia neighborhood last week. No. 1, he cares too much about serious political discourse to waste time on scripted promises and flying brickbats. No. 2, he was busy handicapping the campaign for the bookmaking operation he runs out of his modest little row house.

Being a bookie is no more uncommon in South Philadelphia than being, say, a pizza-pie maker. Sure, it's illegal. But Max (whose real name is being withheld to protect his operation and Campaign Diary's wager) wonders what's the greater crime: a row-house palooka's supporting his family by offering a convenient alternative to government-run lottery bamboozles, or the fact that American public policy and the Lincoln Bedroom are for sale to the highest bidders.

"Why shouldn't I make a buck off this thing?" Max, 52, asked as he thumbed through journals such as Presidential Studies Quarterly, The American Scholar and Political Science Quarterly while researching the appropriate point spread. Max, who has run a small book for 20 years to supplement his income from various odd jobs, takes wagers on ponies, ball games and everything else, including "two rats running across the street." He's booked local elections in the past but decided to try the big leagues this time, thanks in part to the money-grubbing example set by the candidates. "These guys are raising millions--millions!--for a job that pays two hundred grand. It's insane! You don't think Al Gore knew who was buttering his bread at that Buddhist temple? Give me a break here."

That last line is something of a refrain for Max, who sends his 11-year-old son to parochial school because the public school is a disaster. "Every four years, here's another guy in pants and a jacket telling us he's the education President. Am I right, or am I right? The Republicans were in charge for 12 years, and you couldn't send your kids to public school. The Democrats take over for eight years; nothing changes. Now George Bush is going to fix the public schools? Same guy who went to Andover and Yale?" Max throws his head back and howls even as, at the Republican National Committee party a few blocks away, the Osmonds are going soul train. "This is Alice in Wonderland stuff. Give me a break here."

A hard look at the two convention cities reveals the same story line, Max says in his living-room workstation. This is where he keeps his spreadsheets and computer (with a direct link to Las Vegas), and where he surfs the frothy sea of cable and network political blather in search of that rare catch--a fresh idea. "What's on the mind of working people in Philadelphia and Los Angeles? I'll tell you what. No. 1, how am I going to keep my kid away from the drugs and the crime out there? No. 2, what kind of economy is this, where one guy--who could be a complete moron--makes a million bucks in two minutes on the stock market? And meanwhile, here's a family working three jobs to scratch out enough so they can send their kids to private school, because the public schools are a mess. And these guys are gonna fix it? I might as well watch pro wrestling. And the pundits are no better. I'm talking about the real world here, pal. You could roll it up and smack Wolf Blitzer in the head with it, and he wouldn't know what hit him."

Trenchant political analysis, yes. But numbers are Max's true strength, and after careful study (he reads six daily newspapers), he has come up with an opening line on the campaign. "Bush minus 6 1/2." What this means is that Max sees Bush winning the election by a touchdown and an extra point. So if you think Gore will win, or lose by less than 7 percentage points, lay your chips on him.

"People don't necessarily love Bush, but they can't get excited about Gore," Max says. "Clinton fatigue is not the problem; Gore is the problem. One day this guy's with the cowboy boots, the next day it's soft-shoe loafers. One day he's an alpha male; the next day he's a beta. You wanna be President, you better know who the hell you are. But here's the thing: Gore's a killer debater, which you saw when he ate Perot for lunch. So by Election Day, I see the line going down to 2 or 3 points. On the other hand, Bush is not the moron people think he is. He's smart enough to know he can't go toe-to-toe. Gore will attack, and Bush won't even respond. He'll make speeches. He's got this thing in the bag."

So vote R or vote D, or vote Ralph Nader (Max notes, "The only candidate whose work has actually saved lives"). But whatever you do, lay down a bet, because the vig (Max's service fee) is 10%. That's enough to pay parochial-school tuition for his son, and as Dubya says, we can afford to leave no child behind. Who knows? The kid could grow up to be President.