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The ROC

Last Sunday I did not think about football.

After packing for my trip and writing my Week 10 column, I had caught a bus, a train, and a flight to Barcelona, Spain. There were beaches. There were beers. There were pictures of me and my friends throwing up the ROC for my tumblr and plenty of general debauchery. I was living in the moment and swimming in the Mediterranean Sea, and gambling could not have been further from my mind.

Was this due to temporary transcendence? Had my soul gotten in tune with the universe and freed me from my absurd weekly devotion to following point spreads and fantasy production?

Maybe, but I think it had more to do with the lack of Wifi. There was no Wifi anywhere in Barcelona. Read More

Barcelona Skyscape

Allow me to paint a picture for you.

I am sitting at my desk, slightly drunk on Jameson and completely plastered on life. My workspace is littered with old assignments, empty water bottles and Kit Kat wrappers, old receipts, and a pair of fingerless gloves. It is one in the morning. In 5 hours, I will have to be awake and conscious enough to navigate public transit from London to a tiny airport so I can hop on a plane to Barcelona for the weekend.

Barcelona is that place in the picture at the top of this article.

I am living a blessed life and I am very aware of it. Read More

Sigh-Facepalm

Sigh.

We had a rough one last week folks. A brutal 1-4, my worst week yet as a hypothetical gambler. Shout out to the Saints for saving me from my one true fear coming into this process, the dreaded 0-5 week.

I could make excuses here. I could be mad at Detroit for leading us to believe Calvin Johnson would play against the Packers even though he hadn’t practiced all week, only to scratch him right before kickoff. I could blame the Broncos defense for not being able to hold the Cowboys under 42 points. I could be frustrated with RUSSELL WIL… no, I could never do that. Read More

Peyton Manning

Last Sunday was beautifully horrifying.

I sat staring into the 8-bit stream of NFL RedZone that my computer is capable of hijacking overseas, worrying. Not because everything was going awfully, but because everything was going great. After a miraculous comeback cover in overtime by RUSSELL HUSTLE BUSTLE WILSON and company, my drunk picks were looking like they might go 5-0, which would mean another night of Sambuca and misery come this weekend. Thankfully, my Philadelphia Eagles couldn’t come close to covering +10.5 against the Broncos, and my picks settled at an absolutely brilliant 4-1.

I am not bad at this, folks.

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