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Sorry I’m late. It was a weird week.

But gambling! Gambling on Sunday football is only three hours away! And we have games to pick! How exciting. Last week, I went 0-4 on Sunday, after entrusting my picks to some of the NFL’s heroes of facial hair. The only thing standing between me and a second 0-5 week (and probably giving up on life in general) was Colt McCoy. It was a situation I hope none of you ever find yourselves in.

But Colt came through! Washington not only covered, but actually won the game, knocking the Cowboys down a peg in those pesky Power Rankings which I despise so much. How did he do it? Read More

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Last week, I felt great about my NFL picks across the board.

My father was wrapping up his time working in Las Vegas, meaning that it would be the last week of him betting my picks without telling me even though I had a hunch he was doing it. I wanted to make him back some of the money he had undoubtedly lost as I continued to pick Derek Carr to cover the spread over and over again. I did a good amount of research, mixed it with a dash of nonsense, and found myself five underdogs that I felt confident could win my pops some money. Again, one of them was David Carr.

The Raiders failed to cover. My picks went 1-4, and I went into Monday morning feeling like a failure once again.

I have to stop feeling confident about my picks. In gambling, confidence is a myth. It cannot exist, because everything is chance and no one knows anything about anything, especially football. I wanted to remember this fact while making my picks during Week 8. I wanted to focus on facts and emotions and up to date injury information all while knowing that it was ultimately a crapshoot. I took to Twitter with intentions of making my usual pre-picking rounds: checking in on Adam Schefter, Stephania Bell, and a few NFL players that might give a little hint towards their team’s mindset heading into Sunday. But I got distracted by Zach Mettenberger.

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We’re back home.

We got off to a blazing 5-0 start in Week 1 of this Hypothetical SuperContest, but after a few down weeks and a Week 4 that I wish to never speak of again, our record against the spread was looking woeful. Last week we were able to grind out some winning favorites thanks to coin flips and confusion. Now we are back in striking distance a .500 record, and we are going to depend on the dogs to do it.

Why all the dogs you ask? Read More

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Back on the horse.

After a demoralizing 0-5 in Week 4, we rebounded back to stasis in Week 5, putting up a record of 2-3 ATS thanks to a lot of hard work and Excel spreadsheets. I believe that gambling well has a lot to do with hard work; if you know what to be looking for and when to be weary of Vegas, you put yourself in a position to be more successful than the average schlub that rolls into Vegas.

But, as with many aspects of life, greatness cannot come from hard work alone. Every once in a while, you need a little bit of luck. I’ll explain further. For now, just take a gander at the Week 6 slate. Home team gets the asterisk.

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If Week 1 of the Hypothetical SuperContest was a dream, Week 4 was as dark a nightmare as I could imagine.

After making it through the entirety of last season without a dreaded 0-5 week picking against the spread, my dream of avoiding imperfection forever was crushed as the Cowboys walloped the Saints on Sunday Night Football. The worst had happened. The big red buttons were pressed. Although I had started the Hypothetical Supercontest with a perfect 5-0 week, I am now in the midst of three straight losing weeks and my worst picking week since starting this column.

Something drastic had to be done. Read More

(Via Jill Swartzentruber | Baylor Lariat)

The current landscape of college football in Texas is alien to those clad in Burnt Orange. Once infinitesimal, Baylor is now attempting to vacuum all of the top skill players into the void known as Waco. The Bears are building something destructive, an unstoppable force that has eviscerated all who came before it. It’s en route and bearing the number seven. For the unranked Longhorns, what was once considered science fiction is now reality, and it is approaching at light speed.

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Last week I watched football in New York City.

After checking out the People’s Climate March and a bit of yelling at corporations, I met up with my friend and diehard cheesehead Peter at a Packers bar uptown. We drank and watched the Packers lose, then drank and watched the Eagles win, then drank another shot because we remembered that the Packers had lost. After that we went back to his apartment and ate tacos and watched RedZone. It was a great day.

A little before 7:30pm I had to roll out, with plans to meet my cousin for more drinks later in the evening. At the time of my departure, there was about ten minutes left in the Broncos-Seahawks game, the Broncos defense had just forced a safety to cut the Seahawks lead to 17-5. I felt pretty good about my chances of Seattle (-5) covering as my feet hit 83rd street, but as I walked south towards my subway station I chanced upon a bar with open bay windows and a big screen showing the game. Peyton Manning was driving the field and eventually hit Julius Thomas with a three yard touchdown pass to make it 17-12. My bet now felt like a sure push.

I decided to wait and see what happened on the next few drives, and what followed was one of the most exciting conclusions to a game so far this season. This is because I watch games as both a football fanatic and gambling addict. Sometimes, both of those synapses in my brain start firing on all cylinders and a perfect union of football appreciation is born. Allow me to explain.

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Courtesy of dailymail.co.uk

Courtesy of dailymail.co.uk

When he was 21 years old, a Minnesotan under the pseudonym Bob Dylan recorded his breakthrough album, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. On it, he displayed a full cultural fluency with American traditional folk music and the lifestyles of those who inspired and created it, though his brand came with a unique twist upon which he would expand with subsequent releases. Many music critics believe that his three-album run of Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde from 1964-’66 is among the finest eras of creative output produced at the hand of any single artist. His antagonistic attitude toward the media and the fans who turned against him fueled the rage which would revolutionize popular music over the course of the 1960s and ’70s. Some may disagree with his sensibilities and style, but it is impossible to discredit his impact.

By the time he was the same age, Bobby Fischer had recorded the only perfect score in the history of the U.S. National Chess Championship, striding into an impressive prime. A stunning rise in the chess world would see him become an American hero upon beating the Soviet Boris Spassky for the World Championship in 1972. He was already hinting at the unhinged tendencies which would eventually force his withdrawal from the public eye at the height of the Cold War before re-emerging as a hate-spewing shell of his former self.

Fans of Liverpool F.C. hope to see a similar prime from an exceptionally polarizing new signing. Mario Balotelli is equal parts Bob Dylan and Bobby Fischer, brilliant and maddening in complementary doses.

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