As far as I can remember the Gambling Gods and I have been at odds with each other. I’m pretty certain I know what I did to piss them off so much. In junior high my buddy Tom and I saw that some guys were making good scratch taking bets on pro football games. Being the greedy little fuckers that we were one of us came up with the bright idea to take them on. But we didn’t want to be Burger King to their McDonald’s, so we had to come up with a twist. And boy was it a whopper.

Our competition blindly followed the lead of the established odds makers and set their spreads based off the Vegas line.  We, on the other hand, were bold.  Ballsy.  More creative.  We set our own betting lines.   Yeah, that’s right, a couple of punks from the suburbs of New York felt they were more hard-wired into the pulse of the NFL then the boys in the backrooms of Vegas.  Jeez, how dumb could we be?  That’s like having the nerve to insist that Warren Buffett should pour all his cash into pork bellies.

There’s a simple reason why bookies and Buffett have lots of dough.  They know what the fuck they’re doing!  Back then, however, we didn’t know who Buffett was and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

So we set the odds and after two weeks of getting our clocks cleaned, we wised up, closed shop and ended our nascent careers as small-time school yard bookies.  But I don’t think the Gambling Gods have ever forgiven me that one act of adolescent transgression.  And I’ve been paying for it ever since.

December.  1994.  It’s the last day of the year, Wild Card Sunday in the NFL.  The Green Bay Packers are at home against the Detroit Lions.  I care about this game.  A lot.  My buddy Chris and I have done it.  Somehow we are among the last men standing in our King of the Hill football pool.  At this point we’re in the money, the question now is just how much we’d win.  First place takes 5 grand.

Quick definition.  In King of the Hill a lot of people throw money into a pot.  You pick one team a week to beat the spread.  They do, you move on.  They don’t, you’re done.  Make it to the final three, you’re guaranteed a share of the money.  If you outlast all the others in the pool, you get the biggest slice of the pie.

I hate pie, but I wanted that money.  Which brings us back to the game.  Chris is a rabid Packers fan and he knows a shit load about a lot of stuff.  Especially football.  The Packers are favored to win this game by 4 points.  It’s a lock according to Chris.  Green Bay at home, with their D, against the Lions?  It’s a no-brainer, bet on the Pack.  And we did. So now it’s time to settle in and watch the beat down to come.

I don’t remember much about that game, except the end.  Fourth quarter, Green Bay leads 16 to 10.  Time’s winding down; the Lions are driving for the go-ahead score.  My guts are in knots.  I hate life, hate the Lions, and really hate this goddamn last drive.  I’m so tense I can’t even follow what’s going on anymore.  And then…

Fourth down.   This is it, Detroit’s last chance… the play begins… their quarterback drops back to pass…. ball’s in flight….  To the back of the end zone… ball caught….

Out of bounds.  OUT OF BOUNDS!

It’s over.  We covered.  Thank you, Jesus.  All that’s left is for the Pack to run out the clock.  Well, not quite, because if they don’t get a first down then there’s still a few seconds left in the game.

Green Bay doesn’t get that first down, but I ain’t fazed.   They’ll punt the ball, Detroit will catch it, Green Bay will make the tackle, and then the game ends.  Final score Green Bay – 16 Detroit – 10.  The road to 5 grand gets a little shorter.

So with just a few seconds left in the game Green Bay lines up in punt formation…

And that’s when my old pals, the Gambling Gods, decided to intercede.  They had a little something planned for me, and boy was it a whopper.  As Green Bay’s punter gets set to make that final kick I hear the play-by-play announcer suggest…

That the smart move would be for their punter to take the snap, run backwards, kill time and then… when the game clock hits zero… bolt for the end zone and take a safety.  A safety?  You gotta be kidding me?!  They won’t do that.  They can’t –

At that point in time I must have watched over 13,000 pro football games.  And I never, I mean never saw a team willingly take a safety to end the game.  Never.

But Green Bay?   Did.  Final score:  Green Bay -16  Detroit – 12.  We gave 4 points, a push.  And in the betting world ties goes to the bookie.  Like I said, they know what the fuck they’re doing.

Goodbye jackpot.  Hello, third place.  We got this goofy little trophy, looked like two astronauts wrestling for a loaf of French bread and split a grand.  I’ve never felt shittier about winning $500 bucks in my life.

December 21, 2010, just another night tangling with those MF-ing Gambling Gods.  My buddy Brett and I have a couple of bets going on with tonight’s NBA games.  One’s a three game parlay:  we’re taking Dallas + 2.5, the under on the Nets-Grizzlies game, and our slam dunk, the Sixers +5.5 against the Bulls.  For a lark we took action on Monta Ellis to score the most points in the league that night.

Now please don’t get the impression that I’m betting huge sums of money here.  I’m older, I’ve got kids, a mortgage, and grey nostril hairs to worry about.  We’re just talking about a couple of bucks to spice up the ol’ viewing enjoyment.

Dallas gave us no trouble, hell we could have won even without getting the points.  Things were going pretty well with the Nets-Grizzlies.  You gotta love those can’t hit the broad side of the barn type teams.  As for the slam dunk?  Ah, that’s where things began to go awry.

At first it wasn’t too bad.  Hell, for about two minutes there was even the semblance of a competitive professional basketball game. But it got so out of hand so fast I’ll spare you the gory details.

They got crushed 121 to 76.

If only we could have found that bookie out there who had the Sixers +46 points.

So now the money’s gone on the parlay and all that’s left is our Monta Ellis lark bet.  But this one has real potential.  The Golden State Warriors against the Sacramento Kings, it had all the makings of an epic score-fest.  We’re talking the dubs here, they haven’t played decent defense since… c’mon they’ve never played defense.  And the Kings just suck.

Here’s the situation when the game began: if Monta scores 33 points or more we win.  I’m feeling real good, the night before Ellis went off for 44 points.

Let’s flash forward to the fourth quarter, there are eight seconds left in the game, the Warriors are down by four.  And Monta only has 27 points.  Shit.  Now, I’m not feeling so good.

But the Warriors have possession and Monta has the ball.  Time’s winding down… 7… 6.  Shoot it, man, shoot it!  Five seconds… Monta jacks up a three…. And misses.  Shit.  But Reggie Williams, a Warrior, rebounds and gets fouled.

With three seconds left he steps to the line and hits the first free throw.  Now the Warriors are down three.  Now there’s a glimmer of hope.  Great, Gods, prolong the agony.

All Williams has to do is miss that second free throw and hope another Warrior gets the rebound and passes the ball to another Warrior beyond the 3-point line and then that Warrior nails the shot.  All of which has to happen in three seconds.  Yeah, right, good luck with that.

So… Williams misses the second free throw and… there’s a mad scramble for the ball.  And it ends up out of bounds.  Two seconds left.  But who has possession?  If it’s the Kings, game over.  If it’s the Warriors, well….

So, Refs whose ball is it?  Brief huddle and… Warriors’ ball.  Baseline out.

Okay, so now all the Warriors have to do is inbound from behind the basket to one of their guys parked beyond the arc.  That dude’s got no time to fuck around.  It’s bang-bang, he’s got to catch and shoot.  This all has to happen in two seconds.  Great, Gods, prolong the agony.

I’m not even watching at this point.  But I got ears, and I can’t believe what they hear.  There’s the animated crowd noise from the home-town Kings fans, the spare, dread-laced play-by-play from the Kings TV announcer, the sweet swish of the basketball going through the net, and the loud blare of the horn signaling the end of regulation.

Yup, I said regulation.  The game was not over, because somehow Vladimir Radmanovic of the Warriors hit an improbable last second three point shot.  Here, see for yourself.

You are so goddamn right Kings announcer, we are going to overtime.  Five more beautiful minutes of basketball.  Five more minutes for Monta Ellis to score 6 points, and make Brett and I winners.

After that it was all so easy, as if the Gods were caught off guard by that last shot and said “ All right, Greg, you got us this time.”  I mean they didn’t even make me sweat.  Check out this beauty to seal the deal.

Damn right it was impressive.  Especially when you’ve got a little money riding on that crazy ass shot.  At game’s end my new all-time favorite NBA player had scored 36 points.

But you won’t hear me bragging about that to the Gambling Gods. Not one word.   I’m still trying desperately to get on their good side.