Hi, my name is Pete, and I’m a football junkie. “Hi Pete.”
What qualifies me as a football junkie you ask. Here are the cold hard facts…you decide. Not only do I bet on college and pro games, I bet on pre-season games. I bet on so many games each weekend I sometimes bet on both sides of the same game. As well as sides and totals, I play parlays, futures, teasers, reverse bets, and exotics. I am competing in 10 fantasy football leagues this year (I decided to cut back). I watch football hype and games on Sunday from 7:00 a.m to 9:00 p.m. I subscribe to Direct TV’s Superfan where I can watch up to eight games at once on my 50′ flat-screen. I could go on but I think you get the picture. Although I love watching the games at home there is only one true Sodom and Gomorrah for the junkie-VEGAS!
Is there any place in the world sweeter than a Las Vegas sportsbook on a NFL Sunday? No, let me rephrase-there is no place sweeter in the world than a Las Vegas sportsbook on a NFL Sunday. The smell of cigar and cigarette smoke combine to fill the place with the pungent aroma of Dingo dung. Buxom bleach blonds roam the floor offering free beer and cocktails to the puerile gangs of obnoxious males. Gigantic lighted, electronic boards display the point spreads for all the games. It’s another world…it’s like heaven on earth-Nirvana. Fortunes are won and lost on the turn of a single play. And for a smart-ass, sarcastic, pop-off like me, it’s furtile ground for well timed taunts directed at the ever present idiots that get dumber with each swig of beer .
Most Vegas sportsbooks consist of about 99.9% guys, and a few wife-hangers, intent on sticking close to their man, making sure he doesn’t drop anymore of their hard earned cash. Poor sap sitting there, patiently waiting for his wife to use the bathroom so he can rush to the counter and place some bets and get back to his seat before the warden returns.
To secure a prime seat at any of the top books on NFL Sundays you must arrive hours before the games start. Often a crew will send a point man to save a table or bank of seats (usually the guy who boozed the least the night before). An hour before kickoff the place is packed with hungover young males loudly offering unsolicited predictions on the days games. Everybodie’s an expert at kickoff. A little advice for those of you who still have your Vegas training wheels-make your bets well before kickoff. If you wait, you are bound to have some brain-dead, virgin bettor ahead of you in line asking dim-witted questions. I stood behind a guy once when he asked where the bathroom was. The line was long and the cashier was irritated by all the innane questions. He barked back, “in your pants, not get your ass outta line!” Everybody within earshot began cheering.
When the clock strikes 10 (Pacific time in Vegas) and the first ball is kicked the rowdy crowd roars. Game on! As well as watching the eight big screens, I have created a noteworthy list of other activities to observe. Here are a few of my faves. 1.The first loser to wad up one of his betting slips and chuck it at someone. 2. The first dizzy chick to enter the book and pose the question to her man, “how long are you going to be in here?” (of course, the correct answer is, “as long as I want!” Unfortunately, the response is usually, “not much longer honey.”) 3. The first F bomb (usually about 5 minutes after kickoff). 4. The first drunk to challenge another drunk to fight. 5. The first spilled beer (see F bomb). 6. The first moron to shout, “show me the money.” 7. And my personal favorite, the first cocktail server to call security because some fool patted her butt or tried to throw a peanut between her cleavage.
By the 4th quarter of the late games the enthusiasm and optimism have turned to bitterness and dejection. The fumbles, penalties, missed field goals, and bad calls have transformed a once energetic, boisterous crowd into a vengeful, nasty mob. Few have won, most have lost too much. As Kenny warned us years ago, “the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep!” However, for the hardcore gamblers, the true junkies, there is hope-a distant light. It’s 4:00 p.m., just enough time to wolf down the buffett, take a quick shower, and rush to the book in time to get it all back on the night game.