For a brief second, I was about to start this blog off by saying I can predict the future, but if that were true, I wouldn’t have lost all but two bets on NFL Sunday. How many did I make, you ask? A lot more than two. That much I will divulge. My foresight on the outcomes themselves was poor, but I will proudly hang my snapback on my correct prediction that I would lose almost all of the money that I made on college football the day before. NAILED IT!
Thanks to The Legend Gardner Flint Minshew II’s late-game heroics and Mark Ingram’s ability to rush for over 65.5 yards, the entire day did not shake out to be a complete failure. But thanks to a bunch of other human beings who let me down, I still have a very sour taste in my mouth after Week 4’s antics. Those reckless, insensitive individuals — they’ve made the list. Not the good kind of list, either, like the “To Do” ones I create at work for tasks I’ve already completed, so I can check them off right away and feel like I actually accomplished something. Behind this list are copious amounts of rage, regret, and resentment.
If this seems way out of left field (and I’m not sure how it wouldn’t), stay with me for a second. In 2006, when I was twelve years old, a young LaDainian Tomlinson and his magical NFL MVP season played their part to steal my heart and ruin the next several years of my adolescence as a tortured Chargers fan living in Pennsylvania.
Because of this, I just knew that it made an absurd amount of sense for the Chargers to become the first team to not cover against the
drowning dead Dolphins, or even outright lose. If I was still a diehard Chargers fan, they lose on Sunday. Instead, they’ve been long abandoned and came back to punch me in the face for the thousandth time, ruining Dolphins +14 and a teeeeeensy sprinkle of the moneyline (which I also said I wasn’t going to do). No one from this game deserves blame, because they did exactly what everyone but me knew they would. It goes back much further than Sunday.
So thanks LT, it’s all your fault. While we’re at it, why the hell did you finish your career with the JETS?! Then got a TATTOO on your leg for them???????? I’m done.
…sorry, just got back from throwing up. Somehow, this addition to the list hurts me even more than the first one, albeit our relationship is still in its beginning stages. If you know me, you know I love Patrick Mahomes. If I ever get a new FatHead in my bedroom, it’s going to be for him.
For the past year, I’ve been obsessed. I wouldn’t be able to watch him in a public setting if I were a man, if you catch my drift. All has been fine and dandy, but unfortunately, on Sunday, we hit the first road bump in our journey together.
(Let the record show that regardless of the raw emotion and pure pain behind this tweet, I still said I would die for him. That was exceptionally kind of me.)
The man throws touchdown bombs like he’s just messing around on the playground with his buddies at recess, comes to a DOME for the first time in his NFL career, plays against a banged up Matt Stafford and a Lions team that no one will probably ever believe is good, and
LOSES doesn’t cover the spread of -7.5. Doesn’t even throw a touchdown. I’m sorry, what? You were supposed to throw seven! It’s a dome! You’re Patrick freaking Mahomes! Figure it out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sure, the close call in Detroit wasn’t entirely his fault. This absolute shitshow of a game consisted of six fumbles, four of which were committed by Chiefs not named Patrick Mahomes. He just didn’t look like the superhuman MVP we have all come to know and love. The one we ride and die with every Sunday. The one who doesn’t seem to chuck passes to random patches of turf in the middle of the field every time I flip between the ten streams I have playing on my little computer that is running so hot I’m afraid my pants are going to catch fire.
Last week, I took the Chiefs to cover -5.5 against the Ravens, and it just missed. I chased them this week to no avail. Ah, but what can you do. They say that the ones you are closest to are the ones who are capable of hurting you most. Mahomes is on the list today, but he’s in my heart for eternity.
Frank Reich & Eric Ebron
To preface this, I will admit to the fact that I shouldn’t have even bet on this game in the first place. I had no idea that the Colts’ best players on both sides of the ball (T.Y. Hilton and Darius Leonard) wouldn’t be suiting up. That’s completely on me. However, once the game started, that was all in the past, and I should have been able to count on Indianapolis to do everything in its power to set things right. Did I mention this was the biggest wager I placed on Sunday? As my luck (or lack thereof) always has it when it comes to these stupid situations.
We’ll start with Frank Reich. An old teammate of my dad’s at Maryland, who has no idea that I exist, but has wronged me nonetheless. Down 21-10, and looking like total crap against the Raiders, Reich opted to kick a 57-yard field goal with 67-year-old Adam Vinatieri’s disintegrating leg on 4th & 7, and I’m all but positive that it was just to spite me. Does home field advantage in a dome mean nothing?! Weak.
While it will not remove him from the list, I can maybe see where Reich was coming from, as no one on his team could catch a pass in the first half (not sure about the the second because I couldn’t let my eyes bleed any longer). Namely, the once-thought-to-be-redeemed-but-formerly-disgraced-and-possibly-currently-disgraced-again Eric Eb(utterfinge)ron. I know he caught a touchdown later, when it was already too late for both me and the Colts, but he dropped at least a zillion passes in the first half, and I’d had enough.
Leading up to my freshman season of college swimming, I was so awful I almost quit, but had a great next year and thought things had turned around. They didn’t. I quit a year later. You do the math.
Pete Carmichael Jr.
I didn’t know Pete’s name until five seconds ago, when I furiously googled it, but his place on this list carries the same amount of weight as all who have preceded him. He is the Saints’ offensive coordinator, and mightily offended me on Sunday night when Alvin Kamara, who I have recently dubbed “The Master of Reception,” only received three targets! Three! For a whopping 20 yards.
When I committed myself to player prop bets after I won with Ingram earlier, and saw that Kamara’s O/U on receiving yards was a meek 49.5, I pounced. He can get that on one reception, easily. Yeah, if they throw him the damn ball! Early on, I tried to calm myself down, cause ya know, “the first fifteen plays are scripted,” but I was only left to wallow in my disappointment and shame. I could throw some of the blame on Teddy B, for not going with more checkdowns, but the man is just trying not to screw up with Brees on the sidelines, and I would never fault him in doing the fantastic job he has thus far.
So congrats, man I just learned the name and face of — you’re on the list.
Monday Night Football
I was ready to put this entire game on the list, and I probably still could, because it made me watch Andy Dalton for a few hours, but I took Steelers moneyline with boosted odds to +100 (FanDuel’s not so lame now, huh????) so whatever. It gets a very small pass. Like 98% of the ones Mason Rudolph threw. *falls asleep just thinking about it*