What Would You Do with $100,000 a Year for Life?

One of the Christmas traditions in our house is my brother from Pennsylvania hands out scratch-off lottery tickets to everyone. There are always a few winners, invariably of the low-dollar amounts.

This year the stakes were significantly higher. On my card, I came achingly close to winning the top prize -- $100,000 a year for life. My numbers all were low. I believe I had 4,5,6,7 and 9. Of course the big prize was number 8. A quiet, almost inaudible groan and I was done.

It got me wondering how I would react if I did have the winning ticket. Unless I am arguing something that I know for certain that I am right, I am a pretty soft-spoken guy. Would I have quietly announced to the family that I was now financially set for life? Or would I break out a celebration dance that would make Chad Johnson blush? I don't know. But may I one day find out and be able to tell you for certain.

More importantly, how would I spend this new-found wealth? I always enjoy hearing the winners of the lottery who claim that it won't change their life. I vow to you today that when I win the lottery, I will show up to my press conference in a perfectly tailored silk suit with a five thousand dollar bill for a pocket square.

They say you always lose your first million. So I suppose that "only" getting $100K a year is actually a blessing of sorts. And of course you have to figure that a hefty chunk goes to taxes. For the sake of simplicity, I will assume that I clear $60,000 each year.

As a freelance sports writer, I can assure you that I make significantly less than that per annum. But at the same time, that's hardly an amount that will allow you to hobnob with the utility infielders of the world, much less the Rockefellers. So, the first order of business is to inform my wife that she still has to work, at least for the time being.

That means the first thing I spend on is my trip to the emergency room and the dentist for the front teeth that have just been dislodged from my mouth.

We desperately need a new car. Actually we really need two new cars, as both of our vehicles are hurtling toward 200,000 miles. Since my wife just sent me to the dentist, I buy the new car for myself. But to ease the blow for her, I make it a minivan and tell her that I would have gotten her the new car, but I know how she promised when she was young that she would never drive one of those. So, I'll take the bullet and get the family car. Next year she can get the sports car.

Since I just got a top of the line Honda Odyssey, which starts at $40,000 before options, there's not much money left from year one. We'll use the rest for daily living expenses.

My wife informs me that we are buying a new house in year two. Now, we have a "Green Acres" in reverse thing going on. Her idea of paradise is a 100-acre lot in the middle of nowhere while I long for the Central Park West penthouse. Since we live in rural North Carolina dahling, I think you know who won that battle.

So, year two's money goes for the down payment for a giant house with a wrap-around front porch and a yard that takes two days to mow, even with the riding lawnmower that I never wanted and just purchased.

With my daughter just getting ready for kindergarten, my wife begins to freak out that we don't have enough money saved right now for the kids' college education. So, every bit of year three's loot goes into 529 plans for both kids.

My in-laws are some of the nicest people on the planet. My mother-in-law could lose her job, get into a car accident and have a tree fall on her house and if you met her on the street, the first thing she would do is ask if your family was okay. And my brother-in-law constantly helps us with handyman-type projects. So, when he came to us and asked us for seed money for his new business in energy efficient retrofits for older houses, we immediately said yes, thereby saying good-bye to the proceeds from year four.

That leaves me in the middle of nowhere, driving a minivan and my teeth still hurt when I drink an iced beverage. There are no silk suits in my closet, I have no entourage and I spend my days making sure that the "No Hunting" signs are both up and properly spaced to ensure that no one gets shot at on my property.

I decide that year five is going to be the year of Brian. I start the year by purchasing a 1952 Topps Mickey Mantle, rated PSA 8 with blazing color and excellent centering for the bargain price of $30,000. Unfortunately, my wife knows just enough about sports and cards to be dangerous. She instantly recognizes the set design for the 52 Topps and she knows who Mantle is, so she demands to know how much I paid for it.

Before I tell her the price, I inform her that PSA 8s of this card have fetched over twice of what I paid for it and how the card is in such fine condition that we could break it out of the case, have it re-graded and have it come out a 9 and be in possession of an investment worth easily five times what I paid.

My bold talk of the card as an investment piece is instantly shattered when she asks me when the last time I sold a card from 1952 was. After I tell her the price I paid for the Mantle, the rest of year five's cash goes to what men call the Kobe diamond. After having an affair, Kobe Bryant tried to make amends by giving his wife an eight-carat diamond ring, which cost an estimated $4 million.

Five years after hitting the jackpot, I've got a minivan with 100,000 miles on it and a baseball card to show for my winnings. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to finish mowing the yard before the kids come home from school.

I guess nothing changed after all.