As my family began to hike deep into the verdant forest a short drive outside of Memphis to spend our Saturday morning immersed in nature, I paused and pulled out my cellphone. My wife, a few steps ahead, turned and saw me frozen in place, and asked if everything was alright.
Yes, I explained, I just needed a second to confirm that our college football gambling pool picks had all been entered correctly before we went deep into the woods.
“Really?” she asked, with a tone that let me know she wasn’t actually seeking an answer. “We’re going to spend the morning outside enjoying all of this”—she waved a hand around—”and you’re worried about your gambling picks?”
“Well,” I explained, “it IS a five-game parlay.”
For most of my life, the only gambling I did besides occasionally eating grocery store sushi was occasionally throwing a few bucks into pools my friends organized around big sports events, which was really more like a charitable donation than an informed bet. I understood the basic tenets of sports gambling, and I felt as though I had an above-average understanding of sports. I just wasn’t interested. Growing up Southern Baptist, gambling always had sort of an unsavory connotation, at least publicly. Sports gambling wasn’t “legal” in most places, but I noted that newspapers always carried the spreads of games on their agate page. Moving to New York City and occasionally peering through the greasy windows at the OTB shops did nothing to dissuade me from thinking that gambling was probably something from which I was better off steering clear.
And then I had to go to Vegas to cover USA Basketball training camp. Since I was heading into the belly of the beast, I figured why not dive in? I knew poker required you to play against other people, so I figured I’d try to specialize in something simpler. Before boarding the flight, I downloaded a blackjack game on my phone and read a few websites with tips and tricks for succeeding. My first night in Sin City, I ended up hitting the tables with the brother and father of an NBA All-Star, who helped coach me through, and we just could not lose. I ended up winning something like $700 that night, which blew my mind and probably forever warped my expectations.
Ever since that night, I’ve considered myself a gambler. I don’t have a bookie, I don’t owe anyone any vig, I go to church, I have a family. With the legalization of sports betting in many states, it’s easier than ever to drop a few bucks on a game for which you might have a feel. I’ve never bet on basketball, and I don’t trust baseball enough to bet on it, so I stick to football.
Gambling to make a living is one thing. Gambling to have a little fun is my speed. I know I’ll likely never hit it big again like I did in Vegas. These days, I don’t bet more than $10 or $20 at a time, although last year we discovered that even a $10 bet, pooled with a few friends and parlayed across enough games, can pay off handsomely. I may or may not have opened a Venmo account to receive one particularly large payout, which I have since used as my private gambling fund. (Don’t worry, my wife never reads my columns.)
Having a little something on a game can transform an otherwise unremarkable situation into a must-watch, adding another level of significance. One Saturday night last season, for instance, I found myself awake well past midnight, desperately rooting for Hawaii to score late against Nevada, while quietly fuming that I’d allowed my “The Odds Couple” cohost Rob Fischer to talk me into betting on two teams I’d never even seen.
Things got hairy again this Saturday, late in the fourth quarter as UGA was sitting on a 27-point lead over Arkansas. It was at a point in the game where the remainder was so inconsequential that ESPN actually shifted the broadcast to ESPN News, which made me scramble for my remote. As part of the aforementioned weekend parlay, we’d bet the under in the game, which was set at 52.5. With the score 37-10, a late TD by either team would negate our whole parlay.
UGA went into their prevent defense, and even though only one minute remained, Arkansas quickly marched down the field. I kept waiting for the Razorbacks to get stuffed a few times and decide to just kneel down and run out the clock, but no, they were determined to score. My only hope was that UGA’s third-string defense would have enough pride to try and get a red zone stop. When Arkansas called a timeout to stop the clock with 11 seconds left, I howled, “Noooo!”
Eventually, UGA stopped the Razorbacks, the clock ran out and we got the win we needed. Half an hour later, Miami put up 28 points in the first half against Florida State to spoil our parlay. Instead of watching Alabama/Missouri to make sure Bama covered (they didn’t), I volunteered to put my son to sleep.
Wandering in the woods might do it for you, but I need a little something more to get some giddy-up. When we went bust last night, I was out a ten spot, but was it worth ten bucks to add that much excitement and interest to the games? You can make your own decision, but for me, the cost is worth the reward, both financially and emotionally.
If you disagree with me, that’s fine, I understand.
Would you care to make it interesting?