Oh man let’s keep this train rolling.
We kept it up with another 3-2 week against the spread and were two minutes away from the Colts covering to make it a 4-1 day. But there’s still work to be done. My awful showing Week 1 left us in a hole that we’re still digging out of, but we’re just one more positive week away from a winning record and a modicum of respect from the greater Internet gambling public.
Most importantly, my picks have caught up with Chance the Gambler. Read More
We’re trending upward.
After the dismal performance of my picks Week 1, there was nowhere to go but up last Sunday, and up we went. After the early games my picks were three-and-oh thanks to the Bucs, Steelers, and Patriots taking care of business. For a moment I was hopeful for a perfect week that would plant my picks at 5-5 overall and allow for a fresh start to this year’s Hypothetical SuperContest. But that was not meant to be. My Philadelphia Eagles couldn’t beat a Dez-less Cowboys team that was helmed by Brandon Weedon after Romo went down with a busted collarbone and on Monday Night Football the Colts seemed absolutely mystified by the New York Football Jets. Read More
Well, that was embarrassing.
After touting my skills as a gambling picker to the collective consciousness of the Internet, Sunday proved me a fool to anyone who was paying attention. By all accounts, last Sunday was the worst gambling day of my life. Beyond my 0-5 performance in the Hypothetical SuperContest, I went 3-12 against the spread in my weekly picks league, worse than any week I’ve had in the past two years. Thankfully, as a fairly reformed actual gambler, my monetary losses were kept to a minimum, save for three fairly small bets I had my sister place for me in Vegas during the preseason, (sorry about the losses Russell, I’ll get you back when I can).
We made it.
Another season of professional football has arrived and with it, another year of the The Hypothetical SuperContest. Oh man, it feels good to be back. Last night, the Patriots and Steelers rang in the gambling new year, with Pittsburgh completing an unbelievable backdoor push that did not go unnoticed by the great Al Michaels.
If you’re new here, there’s a good chance that you didn’t understand any parts of that previous sentence other than “Patriots,” “Steelers” and “the great Al Michaels.” No worries mate, you will soon. In the mean time… Read More
Elliott Landy/Redferns
Ryan Fitz is my name, and I drove on the Houston train.
‘Til Mallett’s cavalry came and tore up the depth chart again.
In the summer of ’15, we were Gang Green, just barely alive.
By June 10th, Brady had fell. It’s a time I remember oh so well.
(Disclaimer: I am not an economist.)
As your resident Patriots apologist here on Tuesdays with Horry, I’m here to tell you that a lot has been said about consummate gentleman, best quarterback to ever play the game and general American Hero Tom Brady throughout his career, but especially since last season’s AFC Championship Game (You know, the one where the Indianapolis Colts lost by a billion and then whined to the league about it AGAIN, initiating the saga now known across the world as ‘Deflategate’). Lots of people have called him a cheater, a liar and various other mean things despite the total and utter lack of proof provided by the NFL that the footballs used in that game were deflated by anything other than natural causes.
My question to you, fellow Americans, is this: why?
In the last week, we have borne witness to two diametrically opposing yet clear examples of efficiency. Last Friday, Klay Thompson scored 37 points in a single quarter against the Sacramento Kings, breaking an NBA record jointly held previously by George Gervin and Carmelo Anthony. His ruthless shooting, 13-13 in all, slammed the door on the Kings in what had been a close contest. Several days later, at Super Bowl Media Day, Marshawn Lynch of the Seattle Seahawks conducted a full-scale display in performance art, pirouetting with reporters, fielding questions and answering them all the same way: “I’m just here so I won’t get fined.” His own unrelenting strategy captivated some and enraged others, and, like Thompson before him, sent the internet into a frenzy, triggering all sorts of ostensible #hottakes, including, I suppose, this one. But which outright disregard for others was more methodical?
America is the best place, and if you disagree, you’re wrong. I say that not because I’m American (although I am, and damn proud) but because in America, not only do more people watch the Super Bowl than vote for their president* (*not a real statistic, but I’m 100,000% positive it’s true), but also will create a massive scandal that allows them to talk about “deflated balls” in the media for two weeks straight.
bostonherald.com
Forget 50 Shades of Grey. Forget… other popular and mainstream erotic novels (?). A Gronking to Remember is here — well, was here — and it will make you forget every other book you’ve ever read in your life. This modern masterpiece was penned by acclaimed (read: several of her Kindle novels have five stars on Amazon) author Lacey Noonan, the wordsmith behind other great works such as Hot Boxed: How I Found Love on Amazon and I Don’t Care If My Best Friend’s Mom is a Sasquatch, She’s Hot and I’m Taking a Shower With Her. However, her most recent work, centered around Patriots tight end Rob Gronkowski, was apparently way too steamy for Amazon, as the book (which cost a whopping $3 on e-reader) seems to have been pulled from the website. Luckily for all of you, I managed to sneak in a download before that happened.
In A Gronking…, Noonan introduces us to Connecticut housewife Leigh, who catches one glimpse of the patented Gronk spike (or the “football throw down thing,” as she so eloquently puts it) on a football Sunday and falls in love at first sight, much to the chagrin of her beleagured Jets-fan husband, with whom her marriage is already on the rocks.
Anyway, once she sees the Gronk spike, it’s all over.
We made it. After 17 weeks of Hypothetical Betting on the Hypothetical SuperContest our journey has come to a somber end. Last week I needed to go a perfect 5-0 in order for me to finish the gambling season with a winning record. My picks went 2-3, and my final record against the spread came to a semi-embarrassing 40-45. I did not come close to winning the Hypothetical SuperContest. That honor would go to CH Ballers, who went a remarkable 64-20-1 ATS on the year. That is a ridiculous run, and his $1,500 investment of actual dollars netted him a return of $736,575 and the title of top bettor in the land. Many, many congratulations. I apologize for not writing about his streak sooner, but as my bets turned dismal, it became painful to see the names of those succeeding around me. I’m sure in future years when I am a better bettor I’ll pay more attention to the leaderboard; it was just a down year.
Tuesdays With Horry 