When I arrived as a freshman in 1958, I ended up in the infirmary for a couple of weeks. A junior named McConville, if memory serves, ended up there as well. He taught me about "betcha pie," and proceeded to give me a lesson in poker. In the end, after losing ‘thousands and thousands’ of pies, he tried to help me break even by cutting the deck for high card. I lost again and again until I owed, what?, a million pies? Every Friday for several months I would dutifully send my pie via the waiters to him. One day he arranged for his entire class to send me all of their pies and forgave the debt. Father Prefect was not amused when he saw about 30-40 pies going across the room to me and called me up to explain what was going on. I told him. He was satisfied and I went back to my table and shared the pies all around. Mike ‘62
