OK, fine. I’m in.
After years of unrelenting commercials and studio-show segments telling me that betting on sports is the key to happiness and enlightenment, not to mention untold riches, I finally decide to download an app and give it a whirl.
Why else? For a column.
“Live your bet life,” they say. “Make. It. Rain.” Not, “Hunker down over a tuna sandwich and read the newspaper,” or even, “Hey, just enjoy watching a game for its own sake.”
My inner cynic — never far from the surface — bristles at the ex-jocks and media members who shill for the online sportsbooks, pretending to have special insights into who’s going to rush for more than 64½ yards, who’s going to go 2-for-4, who’s going to score a goal and all that nonsense.
Then again, don’t I pick college football winners against the spread in the paper every week? I guess I’m busted on that front. And there’s legal sports betting in 36 states, plus Washington, D.C., so this is a runaway train whether I’m on board or not.
Damn it, let’s ride.
Saturday: The first thing I do is look at my precious son and put $5 on his school, Missouri, to win its basketball game at Florida. The Tigers lose by nine as the bum just sits there and watches, like it isn’t his fault his old man is already in the red.
It’s halftime of the Seahawks-49ers game when I make my second bet: a $20 parlay on the Niners to win the third quarter, the Niners to win the fourth quarter, the Niners to cover the spread and the over to come in. Somehow, it all hits for about $100. I’m well into the black.
After that, I do what any shrewd sports gambler would do and ask: “Is there a night game? Because if there is, I’m betting on everything.” Fumbling through a bottomless pit of Chargers-Jaguars options, I randomly bet two parlays (one of which is a winner) and several player props, including the over for receiving yards — set at 7½ — by a Jags back named JaMycal Hasty, whom I’ve never heard of, probably because he’s the sort of player who has over/unders like 7½ attached to his name. Hasty finishes with a stat line of all zeros, but I make up for it by impulsively throwing $50 on an NBA over. Turns out it was Mavs-Blazers, which I don’t even remember until the next morning.
I’m up $221.02!
Sunday: After a long day of writing, during which I waste only two or three hours looking at the app, I’m ready for some Ravens-Bengals action. Realizing how little I pay attention to the NFL, I use the darts-at-a-map approach to land on five bets, then flip a coin to determine which sides I’m taking. If the Bengals’ Sam Hubbard doesn’t return that fourth-quarter fumble 98 yards for a touchdown, I go 2-3. Instead — thanks to utterly dumb luck — I go 4-1. Mr. Vegas is up $346.72.
Monday: Michigan State is off to a slow start against Purdue, but I figure it’ll even out. So, in-game, I take the Spartans +8½ and win. I take similar approaches with the Heat when they’re down big at the Hawks and the Grizzlies when they’re struggling at home with the Suns and win those, too.
The Cowboys-Buccaneers playoff betting is a mixed bag, with my biggest wins being Tom Brady over 41½ passes (he has 66!) and — my first $100 play — Dak Prescott over 260½ total yards. Why do I only bet overs, never unders? It just seems like more fun to root for excitement instead of against it. I win another $242.28 for the day and am up almost $600.
But I realize I just as easily could be down that much or more. And I’m starting to get bored.
Tuesday: It’s a writing day, and I’m wiped out from betting and watching TV. Finished with work, I go to the gym and hoist my large self onto an elliptical machine. Oh, hell, Kansas State is up five on Kansas at the half right there on the machine’s TV screen. I throw $60 each on the Wildcats -2½ and the over and avoid losing both only because the game goes to overtime and enough points are scored to earn me an undeserved split. No harm, no foul, no rest for the sports-betting weary.
Wednesday: As I know essentially nothing about him, I can think of no good reason Seton Hall’s Kadary Richmond (who?) won’t go over a combined 20½ points, rebounds and assists and bet accordingly. Later, I win an NBA bet on the Nuggets — only because they close the game on a 9-0 run — and almost feel guilty. More haphazard betting, more dumb luck. I’m up over $700.
Thursday: For crying out loud, the Bulls are on at 2. I don’t even want to bet it, yet I must. It’s my turn to lose. I nearly pull the trigger on a parlay of Zach LaVine scoring at least 30 points and the Bulls winning, but it’s on the board for only +240. Instead, I throw a nice chunk of change on LaVine to score at least 35 in a Bulls victory; that’s at +630. He finishes with 30.
I look for a college game determined to bet on the first one I find on TV. It’s Purdue at Minnesota, and the Gophers are getting a whopping 8½ points in the first half. The total is only 58½. Doing the math, I reason that all the Gophs have to do is score 25, and I can’t lose both bets if I take them and the over. A split, worst case? That’s just good horse sense. Halftime score: 31-12, Boilermakers.
What the hell am I doing?
I’ve given back about one-third of my stash, which — oddly — is almost a relief. I’m pretty sure I want out of my bet life. But, wait, do I?
I’m sure I’ll cash out … any day now.
