I don't know how accurate this is today, but I remember hearing some time ago that 99% of all bettors lose in the long run. This number blew my mind at the time, and I was confident that I would not be a part of that unfortunate crowd. After all, I was a sports nut: I watched any game that was on TV whether it was Duke/NC or Seattle/Cascade. I could rattle off the starting line-up of any Major League Baseball team. As a kid, the Monday night broadcasts of McGyver and Monday Night Football was a ritual that my younger sister dared not fight. In short, when I started betting on sports I knew that I could not lose due to my superior knowledge and the aptitude of my instincts.
At some point in a man's life he has to stop, take a moment to evaluate the situation, and ask himself this question: "What the hell went wrong?" This was supposed to be easy. I was going to be a highroller, a man both respected and feared. Brent Musburger was going to call me before the start of every game he broadcasted so that I could give him an easy winner. The public was going to sing my praises, but today I fear that I must admit that I am a part of that same public that loses 99% of the time. Again, I ask what the hell went wrong?
First, let me quote the Highway Men: "I had no dreams, I had no plans...." Simply put, when I first started betting on sports I did so because I have the make-up of a habitual gambler. Anybody see A Bronx Tale (I believe it was this film) where one of the characters refers to another character as being such a degenerate that he'd bet on two cockroaches racing across the floor? That was me in a nutshell. I wanted action on the games I'd be watching that night. At that time, living in rural Oklahoma and having never heard of the Internet, I was fortunate to know a local who was happy to take my bets. Since he was also the guy I bought my weed from it was a conveniant set-up. After a big night it felt good to defer the cash and simply exchange it for a bag. After a while, a measure of frustration began to creep in. I was losing more often than I won, and nobody within my inner-circle really cared about who I was betting on. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. I watched Sportcenter religiously and read the sports pages. I was supposed to win goddammit!
I have taken more space here than I intended, so let me fast forward. There came a point not too long ago when I sat down and thought about what I was doing. After more than a decade of losing and chasing losses, it was time to sit down and figure out what was going on. The first thing I did was admit to myself that I will always gamble. That is what I do. That is my dog in the cage, and when that dog gets hungry you have to feed it. That bitch won't starve. If you pretend that it's not there, one day it's going to break out of its cage and eat you. The next thing I did was to try and come up with an estimate of how much I had lost in the past, and, if I continued along the same path, how much I stood to lose in the future. It was a sobering conclusion to say the least. I needed a goal, but more than that I needed to ground myself in reality. To paraphrase the immortal Hank Hill: "Any get rich scheme will end with you in jail or getting your ass kicked."
What is it that I expect to gain by betting on sports? This, I think, is the most important question a man should ask himself before he places his first wager. Until this question is answered, he would be better suited in the pursuit of other endeavors.
*** I started writing this post after a bad beat with St. Jo's (had them at -1). After marking them off as a loss while listening to the game in the other room, they provided me with enough hope so that I got off my ass long enough to see a kid take a half-court shot down by 2 with 3 seconds still left. In an effort to find something else to do to keep me off tilt, I started writing this. I see that N. Tx. (-10) became a push for me even though they were looking good last time I checked. Ark. St. (-1 1/2) lost by a point in the final minute. On the good side, Wis. Mil. (+11 1/2) and E. Ky. (-18 1/2) came through for me. I'll take 2-2-1 for the night. Could have easily been 5-0, or 0-5.
At some point in a man's life he has to stop, take a moment to evaluate the situation, and ask himself this question: "What the hell went wrong?" This was supposed to be easy. I was going to be a highroller, a man both respected and feared. Brent Musburger was going to call me before the start of every game he broadcasted so that I could give him an easy winner. The public was going to sing my praises, but today I fear that I must admit that I am a part of that same public that loses 99% of the time. Again, I ask what the hell went wrong?
First, let me quote the Highway Men: "I had no dreams, I had no plans...." Simply put, when I first started betting on sports I did so because I have the make-up of a habitual gambler. Anybody see A Bronx Tale (I believe it was this film) where one of the characters refers to another character as being such a degenerate that he'd bet on two cockroaches racing across the floor? That was me in a nutshell. I wanted action on the games I'd be watching that night. At that time, living in rural Oklahoma and having never heard of the Internet, I was fortunate to know a local who was happy to take my bets. Since he was also the guy I bought my weed from it was a conveniant set-up. After a big night it felt good to defer the cash and simply exchange it for a bag. After a while, a measure of frustration began to creep in. I was losing more often than I won, and nobody within my inner-circle really cared about who I was betting on. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. I watched Sportcenter religiously and read the sports pages. I was supposed to win goddammit!
I have taken more space here than I intended, so let me fast forward. There came a point not too long ago when I sat down and thought about what I was doing. After more than a decade of losing and chasing losses, it was time to sit down and figure out what was going on. The first thing I did was admit to myself that I will always gamble. That is what I do. That is my dog in the cage, and when that dog gets hungry you have to feed it. That bitch won't starve. If you pretend that it's not there, one day it's going to break out of its cage and eat you. The next thing I did was to try and come up with an estimate of how much I had lost in the past, and, if I continued along the same path, how much I stood to lose in the future. It was a sobering conclusion to say the least. I needed a goal, but more than that I needed to ground myself in reality. To paraphrase the immortal Hank Hill: "Any get rich scheme will end with you in jail or getting your ass kicked."
What is it that I expect to gain by betting on sports? This, I think, is the most important question a man should ask himself before he places his first wager. Until this question is answered, he would be better suited in the pursuit of other endeavors.
*** I started writing this post after a bad beat with St. Jo's (had them at -1). After marking them off as a loss while listening to the game in the other room, they provided me with enough hope so that I got off my ass long enough to see a kid take a half-court shot down by 2 with 3 seconds still left. In an effort to find something else to do to keep me off tilt, I started writing this. I see that N. Tx. (-10) became a push for me even though they were looking good last time I checked. Ark. St. (-1 1/2) lost by a point in the final minute. On the good side, Wis. Mil. (+11 1/2) and E. Ky. (-18 1/2) came through for me. I'll take 2-2-1 for the night. Could have easily been 5-0, or 0-5.
