Damn their eyes! A pox on them! May they die without issue! I'm talking about the Denver stinkin' Broncos. How in God's name can you collapse like that? Idiots! They are officially the front runner for the team I will irrationally hate next year. Can you imagine the week I would have had if they had just protected a 14 point lead with 5 minutes left? How much is that to ask? Jesus Freakin' Horatio P. Tap-dancin' Christ!
You see, I was in Vegas last weekend.
The big problem I have had on my past Vegas expeditions was not following my picks and getting all cutesy once I got there; this time I stuck to the program more or less. One bet I did not make was the Panthers spread pick because by the time I got here it was moved from -110 to -120. Lucky move. The other off-plan bet I made was on the Monday night game, picking the Fins +16 simply because it was Monday night and I wanted in on the action. Another gem. How sweet is that? If the stupid Broncos had not hacked up a furball of epic proportions it would have been beyond glorious. Instead it was merely awesome.
In the course of this weekend I realized something about gambling. The winning is never as satisfying and the losing is depressing. If you cast your mind back to my Vegas episode last year, you will recall that I got the beatdown of a lifetime. Everything I touched turned to dirt. I'm sure whatever words I used to express my dire state of mind at the end of that trip did not do justice to how low I felt. This time out I cruised to victories from the Packers beating the Lions first thing on Thursday to the Monday night pitchers duel, but I wasn't turning back-flips or rushing out to the Spearmint Rhino to make it rain for the ladies (apologies to Pacman). The feeling was more of a sense of blessed relief than outright joy. It seems I am not star crossed after all.
Gambling is all about losing. Common thinking is that degenerate gamblers get addicted to the risk and the rush of the scarce victories. But that's only part of it — it's also the emotional impact of losing. It reminds me of the movie The Deer Hunter, where Christopher Walken couldn't stop playing Russian roulette because, once having played it, no feeling could compare to the intensity. He needed to keep feeling that bit of madness to be alive. I am convinced that real gambling addicts feel that in a smaller way. Losing wagers must release some kind of anti-endorphin that has a similar effect. It is a horrible, but exceedingly powerful, feeling. And to answer your question, No I am not a gambling addict.