Most Las Vegas gamblers would give their diamond pinkie rings to have the kind of handicapping success a Chicago lady named Jean Kenny has enjoyed over the past several years.
—Super Bowl XXVIII: She predicted Dallas would win by 17. They won by 17.
—Super Bowl XXIX: She predicted San Francisco would win by 20. They won by 23.
—Super Bowl XXX: She predicted Dallas would win by 14. They won by 10.
—Super Bowl XXXIV: She predicted Tennessee would shock Jacksonville and meet St. Louis in the title game, where the Rams would triumph by seven. Which they did.
—Super Bowl XXXV: She predicted (on “The Tonight Show With Jay Leno”) Baltimore would thump the New York Giants. Cha-ching!
In 1994, as a panelist on WGN radio’s “The Prediction Show,” she compiled a 10-6 record, beating the host, Hub Arkush, and trouncing USA Today’s odds expert, Danny Sheridan.
Jean Kenny, 46, credits her penchant for pigskin prognostication to good old-fashioned Christian virtues: hours of exhaustive research, concentrated mathematical analysis, and meticulous attention to details. She’s got the kind of work ethic that is supposed to pave the stairway to heaven. During the season she reads Pro Football Weekly, a statistics-heavy periodical favored by wiseguy bettors, and the sports sections of the local Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times. She does her homework.
“I study the injury situation,” Kenny says, showing me a six-inch-thick file of newspaper clippings. “I follow the key performers and track how they did in previous games. I keep a separate file on special teams [punt-return squads, for example]. And I especially like good defensive teams. I guess you could say I pay close attention to the NFL.”
Actually, you might say Jean Kenny follows the NFL religiously. In addition to being a rabid Chicago Bears fan, an expert handicapper, and a trusted leader among the sports-betting crowd, Jean Kenny has been, for the past 29 years, a certified S.P.
As in, Sister of Providence.
As in, nun.
She teaches religion and drug education/prevention at Archbishop Weber High School in northwest Chicago, lives at the Immaculate Conception convent, and studies the Holy Scriptures for an hour every night.
Only when she’s done with those solemn duties does Sister Jean Kenny study the stat sheets. She even writes poetry extolling the virtues of her beloved home team, Da Bears. Such as this little free verse paean: And on the eighth day God said: “Let there be football!”/ And God created a classic team—the Chicago Bears.
She is a most unusual individual, the kind of singular person most of us don’t bump into very often: a lifelong nun who really, really, understands football.
The Sister Jean Kenny phenomenon is peculiar, but not entirely incredible, if you take into account the geographical influence: namely, that she is from Chicago. This is a town that takes its sports seriously—far too seriously. (I was born there; I’m allowed to say this.) Fans in Chicago are knowledgeable, passionate, and rabidly devoted to their beloved Bulls-Hawks-Sox-Cubs-Bears. These are fans who throw back opposing-team home runs at Wrigley Field. This is a city where every third billboard attempts to make a product tie-in with the Bulls’ string of World Championships. This is a society of sports lovers who did not take “Saturday Night Live’s” lampooning of Mike Ditka well, penning numerous letters of complaint to the NBC television network. This is where Michael Jordan lives.
Sister Jean Kenny is the unlikely end product of a Chicago culture that breeds sports fanatics—whether they’re stockbrokers, truck drivers, or Sisters of Providence.
Her journey into the world of odds and pointspreads and over-unders began in 1985, when she won a William “The Refrigerator” Perry poetry contest sponsored by a local radio station. She had always followed sports as a child, playing varsity basketball and coaching tennis when she got older, but going to a Bears game, watching The Fridge rumble into the end zone—well, that gave her the kind of visceral thrill nuns usually derive from a particularly enlightening Bible passage. (“A good game is like watching poetry in motion,” she says.) “Monday Night Football” thought their nationwide viewership might be amused by a Catholic nun’s adoration of a 320-pound ball-carrying lineman and ran a segment about her during the 1986 playoffs. Shortly thereafter, Bears management invited Sister Jean to attend a few Bears games, where she got to meet Chicago’s craven idol, Mike Ditka, he of the slicked-back hair, pugnacious jaw, and easily parodied motivational speaking style. Reporters started calling Sister Jean to ask her opinion of upcoming football games; her predictions, it seemed, were often eerily accurate, as if touched by divine inspiration.
A spiritual leader, if you will, was born.
In addition to her regular Thursday-evening gig on “The Prediction Show,” Sister Jean has appeared on KABC in Los Angeles, CNN, and “Late Night with Conan O’Brien.” This year she premiered a new radio program, “NFL for Women,” during morning drive-time. People pay attention to what she has to say.
“My motive is strictly fun,” she insists, sitting in the living room of her Chicago convent home. “It’s like a hobby, that’s all. I don’t personally bet on the games. Otherwise, something I do for fun would be like a Las Vegas carnival. You’ve got to draw the line.”
The nice—and mildly surprising—thing about Sister Jean, is her merciful, even forgiving, attitude toward those who would sin. “If people want to bet on football games, fine,” she says, shrugging. “I don’t want to get into a big moral thing. If my listeners choose to bet, that’s their business. If you take my advice and you’re lucky, I’m happy. If not, I don’t want to hear about it.”
Sister Jean believes those who follow her advice will fulfill this quotation from John 16:22. “Your heart will rejoice with a joy no one can take from you.” And if not, hey, she only does this for fun.
Sister Jean has received more than a few notes and calls from what she describes as “faithful” listeners who have profited from her advice. “Oh, I get calls all the time. ‘I won twenty bucks because of you.’ Or, ‘Thank you for your advice. You really helped me win big.’ Of course, I’m not so sure these people are going to be so happy if I make a big mistake. I try to tell people that betting on football games is a big risk.”
She tells her fourteen-year-old students the same thing: She does a lot of study, she works hard on her handicapping, and she can strongly recommend certain picks. But ethics and responsibilities to a higher calling preclude her from plunking down the collection money on the Cowboys-Dolphins game.
“The fact that I’m pretty good at what I do gives me credibility,” she says, nodding. “The kids really open up to me. They think I’m cool.”
I can’t help wondering, has Sister Jean ever considered establishing a “900”-line, like so many other “professional” touts? The profits could go to her diocese or some other worthy charity. She could advertise in the sports section of the Trib: “Sister Jean’s Football Picks. There’s Nun Better!”
“Oh, heavens no,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t do something like that even if I was allowed, which I’m not. I don’t think it’s right. And besides,” she says, smiling, “if predicting football games ever became more than my hobby, it would stop being fun.”
In lieu of monetary rewards, Sister Jean Kenny’s handicapping prowess has earned her a scrapbook full of celebrity mementos, such as personal notes from Conan and his former sidekick Andy Richter, arm-in-arm photos with Bears star Chris Zorich, and her most prized picture: a shot of her with The Pope of Chicago Sports, The Man himself. Ditka.
“I’m very fond of him,” Sister Jean says reverentially. “He’s very feisty, but very likeable. And he knows his football. I think Mike Ditka is great. Of course, I generally like disciplinarians.”
Meeting him was, she admits, the second biggest thrill of her life. “The first was Mother Teresa. That was the greatest moment of my life. But Ditka was a close second.”