A genie happens to pop out of a half-crushed beer can you’re walking past on the street; he halts you in your tracks, points directly at you, and begins:
“You there, humble sports-fearing human, if you can take one—”
“A billion dollars!”
He chuckles. “No, you see, mere speck of existence, what I am in fact askin—”
“A billion dollars!”
“YOU CAN’T HAVE ANY MONEY.”
“Can I have five bucks?”
He dunks you into a trash can. “No.
“But you may have wins; more specifically, football wins.”
You spit out a banana peel and wipe off several half-eaten chicken nuggets from your shirt.