Sports

That's it. No more betting on the NFL ever again, no matter what.

Fuck those fucking fucks.

Last week I got booted from my suicide pool when New England lost. To Arizona. AT HOME. On a missed layup at the final gun. Today I got booted from my new reboot suicide pool – in its first week – when the NFC’s newest ass-whipping runaway juggernaut, the San Francisco 49ers, got waxed by – get this – the Vikings.

Many years ago I read a very funny article about what the writer termed “Zurich games.” Anytime you see one of the league’s irresistible forces barreling down on a gaggle of its weak sisters, the theory went, bet the farm on the dog. Not only is it going to cover often enough to raise the eyebrows of any half-awake RICO investigator, it will win outright so frequently that you have to wonder how many Gambinos are working undercover in the NFL’s offices. The odds of something improbable happening double as soon as I get a slap a couple of dollars down on the board.

That’s it. I’m done. No more pools, fantasy, nothing, ever again where the NFL is concerned. If you need to borrow $10, just ask. But let’s dispense with the idea that I might actually win something. The whole damned enterprise is rigged. I might as well be betting on pro wrestling.

Bastards.

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