Don’t think I don’t know when I’m about to post one of those blogs where at least a third of the readers dissent.

I know, and that’s fine.

But I think blogs like this, with stories like the following, containing opinions on the market like the one I’m going to share, fall into the category of “the good advice that you just didn’t take,” for those dissenters.

Any sports fans out there?

Football fans?

You understand the blog title today.  You’ve seen that clip a hundred times before.

Of all the sports quotes ever uttered, and all the video clips to go viral, I don’t know that there’s a “Top Ten” list out there without Herm Edwards.

I keep this one near and dear:

Now let me tell you a story which, once again, will provide some of you with the opportunity to disagree.  But it will also give you some insights into my life philosophies.

I coached baseball from 2006 to 2013, and I recall in my second year of coaching, we were the regular season winners, but slogging our way through the playoffs.

My team was a rag-tag bunch.  Maybe it’s because I didn’t make the kids run laps before practice like the other coaches, but as I explained to them, “Running laps is to display one’s dominance, in this case, to make up for one’s shortcomings.  I don’t feel that it helps you hit a baseball,” and thus I used our time more effectively by actually practicing.

But what it meant was that my kids weren’t as disciplined, and before the second leg of our championship game, my team was late.

The kids were aged, 15, 16, and 17, and suffice it to say, the 17-year-olds were out late the night before, and it showed by their lack of attendance for this, our championship.

Our team wore yellow jerseys, and I remember looking up atop the hill at Talbot Park, and out onto Eglinton Avenue, begging for the colour yellow.

By 1:00pm, I had most of my team there, but that’s after calling their houses to wake some of them up.

I asked for a five minute grace period from the umpire to talk to my team, and that’s when I delivered a speech that, for some of these kids, still lives in infamy.

I gathered them around down in the left field corner, told them to look at one another, and then I asked the group, “Why do we play this game?”  I asked it a few times aloud, with nobody answering, before I finally chose a kid.  One of the Grade 9’s.

“To have fun?” he answered, while decidedly unsure.

“No,” I told him.  “That’s wrong.”

“Anybody else?” I asked them.

Bloodshot eyes, hair in faces, sweat pouring down their necks, they all just stood there, waiting for somebody else to speak.

So I spoke for them.

“YOU PLAY TO WIN THE GAME,” I told them, and trust me, I was shouting.

“Look up in the stands,” I told them.  “What do you see?”

They looked.  I forced them to.

“What do you see?” I asked them.

“NOTHING!”  Nothing!  Nobody is there.  Your parents aren’t here, and they’re not coming.  Do you know why?” I asked them.

“Because they don’t care,” I explained.

“You guys are 16, 17 years old.  You’re not cute.  You’re not little kids.  This isn’t minor atom hockey where your parents show up at the arena, laughing and smiling, holding a coffee, proud to bursting of their ‘lil guy.  You are annoying teenagers and your parents send you to this diamond to get two hours away from you.”

They were shocked, I’ll admit.  But they can all agree today, that the point was made.

“People out there in this day and age don’t tell you the truth,” I explained.  “This isn’t Timbits hockey, ‘where the first goal is having fun.’  There’s only one reason you guys are going out on that field today, at your age, in this position, and that’s to win.”

“The goal of any sport isn’t to have fun!  That’s bullshit.  That’s weak.  The goal is to win.  This dates back to gladiatorial days.  Do you think the guy with the spear, up against the guy with the axe, was there to have fun?”

They started to nod along.

“But the best part of winning, guys, the very best part is this: if you win, you will have fun.  Having fun is a by-product of winning, ergo, you win, you have fun!  Simple equation, right?  Kill two birds with one stone, gents.”

And I had them.

“Half of you will never step on a baseball diamond again.  You’re going to university next year, and this is the very last game of organised baseball you’ll ever play in your youth.  So why the hell wouldn’t you go out there, goddamit and WIN??”

That was it.

They went absolutely berserk.

They led a raucous parade down the baseline, into the dugout, and would not stop making noise.  The other team, all organized, on time, squeaky-clean – they just watched.

Hungover as my kinds may have been, they went out there and crushed the other team that day.  They played their assess off, because they wanted it.

And it’s true – half of those kids never played baseball again after that day.  It was the last moment of a fading childhood past-time that they ended with a win.

I’ve since sold houses to four of them, one works with me, and they always remind me of that speech.

So tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll disagree.

Tell me that the world has changed, and my viewpoints are old-fashioned, and I’ll respectfully tell you that we’re each entitled to our opinions, even if yours is wrong.

But isn’t this how life works?

And when it comes to real estate, can I please draw a parallel?

What is the point of making an offer on a property?

In theory, that is, save for exceptions and limitations; I mean what is the ultimate goal?

The goal is to purchase the property, is it not?

Now some of you are already getting ahead of me, and you’ll argue that the goal is to purchase the property for a price the buyer is comfortable paying, and I don’t disagree.  But in very broad terms, the goal is to purchase the property, correct?

So my question for all of you today is this: why would a buyer knowingly submit an offer on a property when that offer has a 0.00% chance of being successful?

“You play to win the game.” – Herm Edwards

I found myself with a very hot listing this week, and after seven days on the market, 65 showings, two very busy open houses, and four bully offer attempts, we came to our offer night.

I had received calls from would-be buyers asking for me to represent them on the buy-side, and I informed all of these buyers that I don’t represent buyers on my own listings, in competition.  Ever.

I had a lengthy chat with one buyer, which I kind of regret.

I’m more than fair with my time, and it often gets in the way.  So picture 9:00pm on a Sunday night, with my wife waiting downstairs to watch Netflix for the 45 minutes per day that we get together, and I’m upstairs talking to a cold-caller on the property.

I spent twenty-five minutes on the phone with this guy, and he’s not my client.  I should have watched TV with my wife.

He told me he was an unrepresented buyer and saw the property at the open house, and asked me to prepare an offer for him to sign.  I explained to him, as mentioned above, that I wouldn’t be representing buyers on this property, and then chatted with him a bit and tried to answer his questions.

He asked me, “What is the property going to sell for?” and I told him that since I work for the seller, I couldn’t comment.

He asked me, “What price is the seller looking for?” and I told him that that’s not how it works, but rather offers come to them, and they pick one.

He basically wanted me to throw out some price, and eventually asked what a similar condo, across the street, same size, might sell for.  So with that hypothetical, I told him maybe $725,000 – $750,000.

He asked me about the area, the building, and the market, and I answered all his questions.

Then he asked me about the process, and I explained from start to finish how an “offer night” works.

When asked about the terms and conditions of the offer, I said, “Do you want me to be blunt?” and he affirmed.

“This property is going to sell tomorrow night, unconditionally, with a certified cheque in hand, to the highest bidder.  That’s how it works.”

He asked me about conditions, either on financing, inspection, or status certificate, and I told him, “You can put conditions in your offer, that’s no problem.  But you will have a 0.00% chance of that offer being accepted.”

I explained that there’s an intersection of “being responsible” and “being informed and rational” that every buyer in this market must find on his or her own.

If there are, say, twelve offers on a property, there’s no room in this market for a conditional offer, then why make a conditional offer?

I know, I know – I’m the bad guy here, right?

The market is unfair, agents are lousy, buyers should do as they please and not be told what to do by the likes of me.

But I fashion myself a reasonable, rational, honest individual.  What am I supposed to tell this guy?

“If there’s an offer of $750,000 with a condition, and it’s the highest, and there’s an offer of $749,000, that has no condition, the seller will take the unconditional offer, 100% of the time,” I explained.  “If there were, say, two offers on a house, $95,000 apart, and the higher one was conditional, then the seller might work with that offer.  But with a simple 1-bed, 1-bath condo, with twelve offers, there’s no way.”

I could feel the would-be buyer nodding along on the other end of the line, and he thanked me for my forthrightness and honesty.

I further explained that, in this market, many buyer agents don’t have the guts to tell the buyers the truth.  They just tell the buyers what they want to hear, for fear of offending them, disappointing them, and/or losing them as clients.

But where’s the value in that?

I really, truly believe that when people clamour, “The Toronto real estate market is so tough,” that there are exactly two reasons why this is the case:

1) Price
2) Representation

Every time I have twelve offers on listing, more than half of them are utter garbage.  I feel so bad for those buyers, who chose this person, or that person, to represent them in what would be the largest purchase of their life.

In the case above, during this lengthy Sunday night phone call, I tried to convey to this buyer that being realistic, understanding the market, and putting yourself in a position to win are essential if a buyer wants to be successful.

He seemed to get what I was saying, and we left on good terms.

The next day, I received a text:

“Hi David, thanks for your time yesterday. I’d like you to prepare an offer for the property for $680,000 conditional for ten business days on financing.”

I was stunned.

Having told him I wouldn’t represent a buyer on my own listing in competition, I wasn’t expecting to hear from him.

But the ten business day condition on financing (not to mention the price…) told me he completely ignored what I’d said the night before.

How can you misunderstand “zero point zero zero percent chance” when it’s said to you?

Or perhaps it wasn’t a misunderstanding, but rather he simply disregarded it.

I’m crying you a river here, but sometimes I wonder why I bother.  This isn’t my client.  I’ve never met this person.  I spent a half hour of my time to educate him about the market, and he just threw it out the window.

You play to win the game.

Being told you have a 0.00% chance of being successful with a conditional offer, why would you turn around and make a conditional offer?

Will you suggest that he didn’t trust me, or that I’m a salesperson so I could have been telling him a tale?

Well ask yourself, “What’s in that for me?”

I’m the one, apparently, who needs offers on my listing, right?  So how does telling him not to offer help?

Offer night came and went, and I ended up with fifteen offers.

One offer was conditional.

Fourteen were unconditional.

The property sold for $760,000.

Try as I might, to help this young would-be buyer, my advice fell on deaf ears – and you can see from the results that this was good advice.

My cousin ran the Berlin marathon last weekend in 3 hours, 14 minutes, and 21 seconds.

Running marathons are beyond difficult.  For most people in the world, they are borderline impossible.

What would have made this difficult task absolutely, positively impossible?

If my cousin had cut off her legs before she started.

Metaphorically speaking, what if a buyer cut off his or her legs before an offer presentation?

What if a buyer, told what would make the process impossible, did exactly that?

A buyer that insists on making a conditional offer, among 14 unconditional offers, has no chance of finishing that marathon.  In fact, that buyer will never even cross the start line.

Unusual metaphor, perhaps.

But the point is the same nonetheless.

If a buyer doesn’t want to, or can’t offer $760,000, no problem!  That is not my point.  I had offers of $750,000, $733,000, $731,000, $728,000, and on.  I fault none of those buyers, so don’t call me callous, or greedy, or pushy.

I’m trying to be helpful.

You play to win the game.

So why take yourself out of contention before you ever step onto the field?