It’s NFL Playoffs Time, Which Means I Turn Into a Degenerate Gambler Again
By no stretch of the imagination am I anything even vaguely resembling a high roller, but there's something about sports wagering that fires my furnace in a way that few vices manage to do. Strolling through the chaotic, oxygen-pumped casinos of Vegas, the siren call of the sports book slices easily through the bells, whistles, cheers and agonized cries of defeat of my fellow punters. Whether it's a game of cricket in Calcutta or a rugby match in Rome, I'm standing at the counter, laying down my humble offering to the gods of chance. It's not about sporting acumen or even team loyalty; it's the sheer, unadulterated thrill of slapping cash on a competition as uncontrollable and unpredictable as a tornado in a trailer park.
We’re currently in the second weekend of this year’s NFL playoffs – a veritable circus of violence, strategy and unbridled hope. Dug into my couch, with dogs on either side of me and my DraftKings app offering endless options for giving them my hard-earned cash, I am a modest bettor with a penchant for the underdog, tossing my meager wagers on the 49ers, Chiefs, and Lions. Why? Mainly they’re the remaining teams that I hate the least, but I’ve been known to throw both common sense and hard, measurable data into the winds of reason and bet on pure gut feelings. Which almost never works in my favor. So, considering my track record, these poor, hard-working teams are now all destined to crash and burn in a blaze entirely free of glory.
Ultimately, I can live with any outcome so long as it doesn't involve Buffalo or Baltimore hoisting the Super Bowl trophy. Like a bad oyster at a seafood buffet, the mere thought knots my stomach with intestinal agony. I’d rather watch a year of preening pop stars headlining soulless halftime shows (which I know is redundant), than endure a year of either of those jackass fan bases reveling in a championship.
Ultimately, in the grand cosmic joke that is sports betting, I'm the guy chuckling in the back row, clutching his crinkly betting slip like a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's factory. Win or lose, it's all part of the game – a game played by gods and mortals, where the ball is ovular, the field is green and the outcome is as certain as a coin toss in a hurricane.
So, bring on the playoffs and let the gladiators clash and the titans tumble. My dogs and I will be here, punching lineup after lineup into the DraftKings app, riding the rollercoaster of the NFL playoffs, where every play is a gamble and every gamble is a prayer to the football gods.