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Monday, September 23, 2013

Monday Morning Quarterback: NFL Week 3 Wrap

Welcome to The Spread Zone. The only place on the Internet where - provided you're one of the unfortunates who have been following our handicapping advice religiously - you can come back on Sunday night, curl up in the fetal position, cry a little, and between sobs say bad words like, "Goddamn, stupid, freakin' Vikings defense. Mother f-ing Chargers inability to stop...anyone in the fourth quarter. Et tu, Aaron Rodgers? Then fall Vinny and Marco." Then you can eat ice cream until you're sick, tell yourself you're a horrible person until the food coma sets in, and pray for sleep because it's the only form of freedom you have left at your disposal.



Or...you could start your own subsidiary sports betting blog and enjoy the catharsis/mortal humiliation of writing every single thought that crosses your mind.

It is so unbelievably frustrating when a few plays - a shift in momentum here, a missed call there, a coaches indecision or his unsportsmanlike challenge - are the difference between the fantasy of 8-6-1 ATS and the reality of 6-8-1 ATS. "What," you ask "could be worse than securing our third consecutive sub-.500 week in a row to start the season?" Oh, how about losing $10 (again) to my animal-communicating, energy-reading, psychic mother-in-law who went 9-5-1 and is now giving me advice on how I should do my picks next week. If sports are a metaphor for life, then I hope somebody kills me now.



Even the mild-mannered Marco, affable, chivalrous, and kind on Tuesdays through Saturdays, found himself affected by the extension of our longest losing streak EVER. As an example of how 6-8-1 ATS played out in his world yesterday, Marco asked me to share the following story he sent me after the Bears game:




Dear Anyone Left in the TSZ Community,

Yesterday afternoon, in between Niners defeat and Bears pre-game, I ran to the grocery store to buy some pizza dough. It was my night to cook. My name's Marco and I eat a lot of pizza! My Carbohydrates Anonymous sponsor told me I should write that. Once I had my dough, I stood in express lane for ten full minutes.Ten minutes is a lot of time to think about all your failed bets from the day and how Vinny is going to dig us out of this one with his fancy words. Needless to say, I was at the highest level of irritated at this point, but then there was hope...





The new express lane opens and I get the signal to come over. You know the signal. The look, sometimes accompanied by a "Sir," or a shoulder tap, and the invariable removal of a magazine rack blocking the light at the end of the tunnel. I look back at the eight people behind me in line and proudly signal them to follow me. As I toss my dough onto the belt a lady rolls up and says "what a f'ing gentleman!" This lady was not one of the eight people. This lady had just finished shopping. She didn't suffer through the ten minute wait and I'm almost positive she didn't pick the Niners to cover a double digit line.




She felt entitled to not only cut my followers, but me too.  I was their shepherd now and I could not let her disrupt the flock. I mean - I got the signal, not her. She then proceeded to heckle me the whole time I was paying for my one item. And she had a full basket in an express lane. She was in the wrong! And just because she was eight and a half months pregnant and on crutches doesn't mean she gets to break our philosophically agreed upon rules of grocery store etiquette. 

I got the freakin' signal.

I was so angry inside, and yet as I left the store I couldn't decide if I was more mad at her or Brian Hoyer. I had Minnesota in all my teasers. 

Your grumpy friend, 

Marco

Now before you get on your soap box and start saying Marco's story is exactly what's wrong with gambling in our society, you have to understand that there is a very spiritual side to sports betting - you just have to win to experience it. Last year this time I received a very similar e-mail from Marco.

At the time it was Zucchini Dough because he was low-carbing and at the time the Niners had just covered a double digit spread because they were still good, but in that story not only had Marco let the pregnant woman go first, he paid for her groceries, helped her carry her bags to her car, and then delivered her baby when the paramedics didn't show up in time. Now that kid's name is Marco. Those kinds of world-changing experiences just don't happen without the benevolent feeling of good will that come with picking NFL games correctly.

We're really looking forward to that...

Vinny and Marco


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