Right Way to Watch the Games
From time to time I have heard rumors of individuals who possess the bizarre ability to put money on games and not think twice about it until they catch the results some time later on. Just like people who never drink, these folks make me nervous. What purpose could this possibly serve? I realize that my philosophy could be a little bit bizarre, but I’m sure that I share the same chronological journey with many others in getting to this point.
--As a young lad, I enjoyed partaking in many sports, as well as any other activity in which I could exhibit my dominance over others. I’ve always been competitive to the point of maniacal.
--As an exceptionally ugly teenager, I found sanctuary in professional and college sports. I would lock myself in my room and party the entire weekend away with the likes of Alan Trammell, Art Monk and Patrick Ewing.
--Once I grew into the strapping young lad that you have come to know today, sports took a backseat to partying. How I even lived to these next chapters of my life is beyond me. I’d like to say that I have become a smarter person through my experiences, but no.
--Once the newness of women, alcohol and the occasional contraband wore off, I realized that I had a lot of spare time on my hands once again. So I returned to my old love. There was just one problem. The games had changed, and the new look of baseball, basketball and football just didn’t quite keep my interest – unless, of course, I had money riding on the outcome.
So I’m tainted, you see. I don’t expect to make a living betting on sports. Congrats to those that do, but I have no interest in making this another job. I’m the proverbial cat stuck chasing my own tail. I bet on sports because I can’t watch them without putting money on them. I watch sports because I need to see how my wagers are going. Meanwhile my tail is getting shorter and shorter and I don’t think that I’m ever going to catch it. I’m the books’ wet dream.
Perhaps now you can understand why the calm, cool, collected guys who don’t feel the need to sweat out their games with the rest of us misanthropes have befuddled me. My never ending quest to one-up another has always required live participation. I want to rejoice, and I want to weep, and I want to do it right now – not in the A.M. But I’ve been rethinking the entire process recently. I’ve been losing sweat, fingernails and sanity at a record pace, and sometimes, you just need to change things up.
Perhaps one day when I grow up, I can enjoy a great finish. I want to be able to watch a game where seven runs are scored with 2 outs in the 10th inning to beat my Under by a half run. I want to be able to say “Aw shucks. We’ll get them next time.” But does that guy even have a pulse? Maybe the answers to these questions are too big for mortal comprehension. I’m so confused. Here is a quick breakdown of various viewing methods:
Out at a Bar with the Boys
This method is always great because you’re in public and you are required to save face just a little bit. For added fun, go out with a friend who is betting the opposite side as you are. One of you is definitely leaving angry, and the other possibly with a black eye. When you lose money because of a missed extra point in public, you must suppress your anger to avoid causing a huge scene, but someone has to pay. In my case, it has traditionally been my cell phones, shades or pens. It all ends up being a pretty expensive day out with the boys.
Watching the Game on TV at Home
As I’ve gotten older this has become my favorite method. I just want to be left alone and be antisocial and hurl curse words at the TV never before uttered by primates. You can also get really psyched up for a big game, like your enthusiasm could possibly help shape the outcome of a contest played by a bunch of millionaires hundreds of miles away who really wouldn’t like you if they met you. As if.
My enthusiasm died many missed free throws ago. I now approach most games that I watch at home in complete fear. I sit in a trembling ball on the couch, intermittently peeking over the pillow covering my face, hoping that God has decided to smile upon me just this once. But it’s almost always the same thing – Norman Bates swinging at strike three, Freddy fumbling in the end zone, Jason Voorhees dropping a routine fly ball. And like the pigtailed Friday night date sitting in the front row, my popcorn goes flying in the air every time. And I don’t even eat popcorn. It’s just that scary watching the games at home alone.
Watching Gamecast Updates Online
Pros – You can keep a window open while you do other things online like pay your bills, or shop for your kids’ birthday. You can be productive without a live broadcast filling you in on every single play. Unfortunately I’m usually goofing around with fellow degenerates on SBR, so I’m hearing about the game anyways.
Cons – In my case, I usually end up switching over to the Gamecast window for large chunks of time regardless. Then before you know it, I’m yelling at a computer monitor! At least on TV, you have a face to yell at. But here I’m yelling at freaking dots! I don’t see how anyone wins here. Not the players, not you, and certainly not the dots.
I don’t want you to think that I never win, because I do. But pain leaves more of a lasting impression than pleasure. I remember sleeping with Jessica Alba, and I know it felt good, but I can’t actually recall those feelings. But when that 200 lb. anvil fell on my head, well, those unpleasant memories are so vivid that it’s like it happened yesterday.
So recently I made some plays and that was that. Throughout the evening I never checked on the games – not even before going to bed. There was a time when I couldn’t sleep properly with big money out there. Not this time as I slept like a baby. I don’t know what has changed, but I like it. When I browsed the finals in the morning, I saw that I went winless and was angry all morning at work. At least I slept well, I guess?
I may try this some more, although it contradicts my theory that I bet because I watch and I watch because I bet. Maybe I’ve learned something after all. Now if I could only hit a winner.
--As a young lad, I enjoyed partaking in many sports, as well as any other activity in which I could exhibit my dominance over others. I’ve always been competitive to the point of maniacal.
--As an exceptionally ugly teenager, I found sanctuary in professional and college sports. I would lock myself in my room and party the entire weekend away with the likes of Alan Trammell, Art Monk and Patrick Ewing.
--Once I grew into the strapping young lad that you have come to know today, sports took a backseat to partying. How I even lived to these next chapters of my life is beyond me. I’d like to say that I have become a smarter person through my experiences, but no.
--Once the newness of women, alcohol and the occasional contraband wore off, I realized that I had a lot of spare time on my hands once again. So I returned to my old love. There was just one problem. The games had changed, and the new look of baseball, basketball and football just didn’t quite keep my interest – unless, of course, I had money riding on the outcome.
So I’m tainted, you see. I don’t expect to make a living betting on sports. Congrats to those that do, but I have no interest in making this another job. I’m the proverbial cat stuck chasing my own tail. I bet on sports because I can’t watch them without putting money on them. I watch sports because I need to see how my wagers are going. Meanwhile my tail is getting shorter and shorter and I don’t think that I’m ever going to catch it. I’m the books’ wet dream.
Perhaps now you can understand why the calm, cool, collected guys who don’t feel the need to sweat out their games with the rest of us misanthropes have befuddled me. My never ending quest to one-up another has always required live participation. I want to rejoice, and I want to weep, and I want to do it right now – not in the A.M. But I’ve been rethinking the entire process recently. I’ve been losing sweat, fingernails and sanity at a record pace, and sometimes, you just need to change things up.
Perhaps one day when I grow up, I can enjoy a great finish. I want to be able to watch a game where seven runs are scored with 2 outs in the 10th inning to beat my Under by a half run. I want to be able to say “Aw shucks. We’ll get them next time.” But does that guy even have a pulse? Maybe the answers to these questions are too big for mortal comprehension. I’m so confused. Here is a quick breakdown of various viewing methods:
Out at a Bar with the Boys
This method is always great because you’re in public and you are required to save face just a little bit. For added fun, go out with a friend who is betting the opposite side as you are. One of you is definitely leaving angry, and the other possibly with a black eye. When you lose money because of a missed extra point in public, you must suppress your anger to avoid causing a huge scene, but someone has to pay. In my case, it has traditionally been my cell phones, shades or pens. It all ends up being a pretty expensive day out with the boys.
Suppressing anger at the bar
As I’ve gotten older this has become my favorite method. I just want to be left alone and be antisocial and hurl curse words at the TV never before uttered by primates. You can also get really psyched up for a big game, like your enthusiasm could possibly help shape the outcome of a contest played by a bunch of millionaires hundreds of miles away who really wouldn’t like you if they met you. As if.
My enthusiasm died many missed free throws ago. I now approach most games that I watch at home in complete fear. I sit in a trembling ball on the couch, intermittently peeking over the pillow covering my face, hoping that God has decided to smile upon me just this once. But it’s almost always the same thing – Norman Bates swinging at strike three, Freddy fumbling in the end zone, Jason Voorhees dropping a routine fly ball. And like the pigtailed Friday night date sitting in the front row, my popcorn goes flying in the air every time. And I don’t even eat popcorn. It’s just that scary watching the games at home alone.
Pros – You can keep a window open while you do other things online like pay your bills, or shop for your kids’ birthday. You can be productive without a live broadcast filling you in on every single play. Unfortunately I’m usually goofing around with fellow degenerates on SBR, so I’m hearing about the game anyways.
Cons – In my case, I usually end up switching over to the Gamecast window for large chunks of time regardless. Then before you know it, I’m yelling at a computer monitor! At least on TV, you have a face to yell at. But here I’m yelling at freaking dots! I don’t see how anyone wins here. Not the players, not you, and certainly not the dots.
Damn dots
So recently I made some plays and that was that. Throughout the evening I never checked on the games – not even before going to bed. There was a time when I couldn’t sleep properly with big money out there. Not this time as I slept like a baby. I don’t know what has changed, but I like it. When I browsed the finals in the morning, I saw that I went winless and was angry all morning at work. At least I slept well, I guess?
I may try this some more, although it contradicts my theory that I bet because I watch and I watch because I bet. Maybe I’ve learned something after all. Now if I could only hit a winner.
That was station wagon material, not wood.
