I was in my freshman year of college, the Fab Five. Rebecca Lobo and the Uconn women. Stardust sportsbook and my naivety side by side. 12 years later I would be running one of the 4 largest sportsbook in Vegas (by Volume). I didn't have a clue then, and I didn't have a clue my first day.
That first day I fired 14 employees thanks to the sonuvabitch corporation (you are almost bankrupt now motherfuckers), learned how to enter lines in an antiquated system, and realized that as long as your line was in-line no one gave a rats ass about George Mason-James Madison mid-September.
But the tables turned come March Madness, then the euphoria of NFL Week 1. If the favorites cover we all lose big, if the dogs come in then everyone is Einstein. Everything in between may make a tweek on the Yahoo buzz and Twitter-dom but no one cares if Serena wins at Flushing Meadows, no one cares if Messi carries Spain to a Euro. It's about the real deal, and three times define a winner or a loser.
March Madess week one: I'm sitting Strip Central and all the Big Ten Yay-hoos are betting hand over fist. One by one they go down until Sparty versus Mason, yes that final four GMU, with suspended guard. Everyone is on one side, me and the "sharps" versus other.
Super Bowl Week:
Peyton versus Devin Hester and the world. Devin returns the kickoff and the world rejoices. The rest of the game is thumb-licking time for every Vegas bookmaker. We had the right opinion, you were wrong. If it were the other way, every excuse in the book would have been made. Instead, justice is done on this side of the counter.
NFL season is an animal. Geriatric stale parlay card chasers and pseudo-sharps, you know those kind that are on radio shows abound. Laughable until 13 of 14 favorites cover. Everyone is a teaser or round-robin fan and god-forbid you put out your card Wednesday night with a half-point difference. Grandmas and college kids descend like vultures on prey. It's laughable yet sad.
At the end of the year, profits are multiplicable. Vegas "Legends" (I can't put enough quotation marks) like Fezzik, TeddyCovers, etc. have run through begging for table scraps. Everyone has won seemingly until the Evil Empire (aka Casino Corporation) comes through and wants the fascination street to meet a tombstone demise (it's better our way, no risk/no reward).
Thus it goes, and thus it ends.
You don't get it, you really don't fucking get it.
AM radio and internet fringe.
(Now is the time Jeff Jones to chime in with a marginally relevant analogy)
As always, it goes better with Limoncello.
That first day I fired 14 employees thanks to the sonuvabitch corporation (you are almost bankrupt now motherfuckers), learned how to enter lines in an antiquated system, and realized that as long as your line was in-line no one gave a rats ass about George Mason-James Madison mid-September.
But the tables turned come March Madness, then the euphoria of NFL Week 1. If the favorites cover we all lose big, if the dogs come in then everyone is Einstein. Everything in between may make a tweek on the Yahoo buzz and Twitter-dom but no one cares if Serena wins at Flushing Meadows, no one cares if Messi carries Spain to a Euro. It's about the real deal, and three times define a winner or a loser.
March Madess week one: I'm sitting Strip Central and all the Big Ten Yay-hoos are betting hand over fist. One by one they go down until Sparty versus Mason, yes that final four GMU, with suspended guard. Everyone is on one side, me and the "sharps" versus other.
Super Bowl Week:
Peyton versus Devin Hester and the world. Devin returns the kickoff and the world rejoices. The rest of the game is thumb-licking time for every Vegas bookmaker. We had the right opinion, you were wrong. If it were the other way, every excuse in the book would have been made. Instead, justice is done on this side of the counter.
NFL season is an animal. Geriatric stale parlay card chasers and pseudo-sharps, you know those kind that are on radio shows abound. Laughable until 13 of 14 favorites cover. Everyone is a teaser or round-robin fan and god-forbid you put out your card Wednesday night with a half-point difference. Grandmas and college kids descend like vultures on prey. It's laughable yet sad.
At the end of the year, profits are multiplicable. Vegas "Legends" (I can't put enough quotation marks) like Fezzik, TeddyCovers, etc. have run through begging for table scraps. Everyone has won seemingly until the Evil Empire (aka Casino Corporation) comes through and wants the fascination street to meet a tombstone demise (it's better our way, no risk/no reward).
Thus it goes, and thus it ends.
You don't get it, you really don't fucking get it.
AM radio and internet fringe.
(Now is the time Jeff Jones to chime in with a marginally relevant analogy)
As always, it goes better with Limoncello.
