Still no cure to this gambling addiction
by Pete Cunningham
*As printed February 6, 2008 in The Homer Index  

I have always been able to resist the allure of Super Bowl bets despite my closet addiction to gambling. One of my biggest phobias is to become the subject of a public service announcement on idiots who put money into events of which they have no control. Of course, by definition, a phobia is an irrational fear of which there is no reasonable explanation, so I decided this year that it was time to face those fears and start gambling on the Super Bowl.

Symptom 1 of an addictive gambler: Backwards logic which always leads to more betting

The Super Bowl is not only the most heavily viewed sporting event in the nation, it is the most gambled upon extravaganza in the entire world. More than half a billion dollars is put down every year on everything from who the MVP will thank during his speech to how long it will take to sing the national anthem. Everybody bets on the Super Bowl. It’s an American tradition.

Symptom 2: The “everybody does it” excuse

Before doing so I, of course, had to figure out how to place my bets. With a weekend getaway to Vegas out of the question, my choices were narrowed to a bookie or the Internet. The former offers fast money with the looming possibility of a pair of broken thumbs, while the Internet is littered with identity thieves and creepy old men posing as sexually curious teenagers. Life’s full of choices.

Since I haven’t met any local disreputable characters who would willingly take my money and threaten my life, I decided to test my luck online. I was soon directed to a website in which a deposit could be made in three short clicks. Conversely, three forms of government issued identification and a stencil of my credit card numbers had to be faxed to Antigua to make a withdrawal. Standard operating procedure at most legitimate businesses.

Symptom 3: Owns three forms of ID and has ever heard of Antigua

A plethora of wagers were soon at my fingertips. I bet that Tom Petty would finish his half-time set with “Running down a dream” - paid out on seven to five odds. I bet the Giants would score first - paid out two to one, and that it would be a field goal - four to one. All together, I won seven bets on the night.

Symptom 4: Has multiple and extensive stories about winning bets

No one’s perfect, so I lost a few bets as well. I thought New York offensive lineman Grey Ruegamer would be called for holding. This was completely based on the fact that Ruegamer told reporters he once spent a summer helping a friend on a farm castrating baby lambs … with his teeth. That’s the kind of guy who would hold a jersey to help his QB. Apparently my assessment was misguided.

I wasn’t even close guessing the final score, my MVP picks were MIA during the game, and the commercial I bet would be rated highest (Victoria’s Secret) only had one angel and no cleavage. I even threw the age old adage of “tails never fails” to the wind and put money on heads for the coin flip.

Those bets were just the beginning. After a first half in which I was up nearly $30, I didn’t win a dime in the second. The Patriots had three opportunities to intercept the ball in the final drive. By simply doing so, I would have won my combined turnovers, interceptions and Giants total points bets, with payouts totalling more than $33. I was so close. I was right there. I almost had it. It was there. The money was mine for the taking. I just couldn’t get the right bounces.

Symptom 5: Multiple excuses and empty pockets