One of the messages that we've repeated to you over and over here at Money Morning is to never listen to a Wall Street analyst.
Here's a story that illustrates why we continue to harp on this key lesson. It's about baseball, a best friend and a high stakes bet. It's my of favorite baseball story.
As a young teen growing up in a Pittsburgh suburb in the early 1970s, I was a die-hard fan of Steelers football and Pirates baseball teams.
I never lost that ardor for the Pittsburgh black and gold - not even after my Dad accepted a career transfer to Baltimore in 1974. I will happily admit that, during my decades as a Maryland resident, I turned into a big fan of the Baltimore Orioles, too.
But to this day, whenever Pittsburgh and Baltimore face one another, my allegiance is clear.
In 1979, when the Pirates and Orioles were set to square off in the World Series, I was a freshman at Penn State. And my best friend Harry was an apprentice machinist at a small manufacturing firm near Baltimore.
Harry wasn't much of a baseball fan - didn't follow the game, and didn't know much about it.
As he told me later - years after the story I'm about to relate played out: "All I knew about baseball was that you are a smart guy - a college guy - and that you liked the Pirates."
Actually, it wasn't just that I liked the Pirates. I was bonkers about them. I had Bucco fever.
As the pennant race heated up, and the team swept through the playoffs and into the World Series, I must've babbled about "my team" all the time.
It was a fan's view ... not a rational one.