Picks of the Week, brought to you by...

Happy Saturday, gheorghies!

As we all recall, Day 11 is a bit of a behemoth, so while we eagerly anticipate its arrival, it may take a few more days while robbie reviews the Year du Gheorghe. In the meantime... football!

The college football playoff has been everything everyone most people wanted. (Fans of Oregon, Georgia and a few others... sorry 'bout your bad luck play.)

Irish vs Buckeyes.
Danimal vs Buckles.
Flynn vs Evan.
Catholics vs... Tree Nuts.

Get some. Irish haven't beaten the Bucks since FDR's first term. Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again, and the Irish have a man like that in Riley "Don't Call Me Booger Ray" Leonard.

They don't call me the best color guy in the game for nothin'.

Okay, now on to the pros!

Those of you who pay any attention may have noticed a pattern in my gambling. The pattern? I'm terrible. Awful. A travesty. Always wrong. Okay, well, almost always. In fact, FanDuel considered shuttering its doors after giving up a bet like that to me.

Other than that, I've lost many, many bets there. Luckily, I don't gamble high dollar amounts.

That said, I gots a funny feeling about my picks for the playoffs this weekend. Go All In!

Here you go, your 1st Round NFL Playoff Picks brought to you by my betting alter ego, Slapdash Drunkenwager . . . and Alcoa.

Alrighty, here comes Slapdash with his picks!

Greetings sports fans, and welcome to another edition of What the hell is he thinking, I mean my weekly football picks!

This week we're reaching way way back using the flux capacitor and 1.69 gigawatts of mental energy. A salute to the NFL stars of Slapdash's youth. Yep, placing wagers based on complete irrelevance. Couldn't be worse than my usual analysis. 

Chargers (-3) @ Texans

Back when Slapdash was a kid, the Chargers had Danny Fouts and his cannon, Chuck Muncie and his specs, Wes Chandler and his wheels, and Charlie Joiner and his Hall of Fame cool. But they also had a little guy named Kellen Winslow who brought his badassed guts. Air Coryell. And for a couple of years, up until 1980, they had The O.C. named Joe Jackson Gibbs. Not shoeless, he commanded a high-flying offense.

Meanwhile... when Slapdash was a kid, the Texans were not a team. Oh, they had been a team. In Dallas. Who, after one crap season, moved to Baltimore to become the Colts. Ohhhh, Baltimorons, you stole someone's team and then got all cranky when the Mayflowergate happened in '84. Slapdash has said it before and he'll say it again, that Mayflower Van Lines still has zero presence in Baltimore and Howard County, MD is hilarious and awesome. 

There was, though, a Houston team in my youth... you know them...

They had a fella named Bum runnin' the show. They had a bigger fella named the Tyler Rose runnin' through people. And keepin' on footwear, they had a fella for a few years, up until 1980, called White Shoes.

But they were Oilers. These are Texans. And though these Chargers are in Lose Angle-leez rather than San Dieeego, they're still the same old cHargers!

Chargers cover.

Steelers @ Ravens (-9.5)

Another nomenconundrum here, folks! Weren't no Ravens back when! Bal'mer was the Colts, and boy did they stink back then. Johnny U and Art Donovan were distant memories, and let's not mention the words John Elway or Indianapolis.

The Steelers were the Steel Curtain, aging though they were. Nobody dominated the NFL in the 1970's like this franchise, and they wouldn't post a losing record until the middle of the next decade. And if I think about Pittsburgh vs. Baltimore in an NFL showdown, I think of two men.

L.C. Greenwood and Bert Jones.

Gotta go with L.C. Steelers and the points. (If you'd called Slapdash earlier this week, you could've gotten 10.5 like he did.)

Broncos @ Bills (-9)

Orange Crush defense led by Tom Jackson (pre-ESPN), Rubin Carter (not that one), Randy Gradishar, Lyle Alzado, and eventually Karl Mecklenburg, who it should be noted was actually one of the henchmen who attacked Nakatomi Plaza.  

And yes, Craig Morton. And eventually... John Elway. Baltimore's bastard son. 

Buffalo... well, Joe Ferguson? A backfield that also included Joe Cribbs, Roosevelt Leaks, Roland Hooks... Cribbs, Leaks, and Hooks is now an upstate residential contracting firm, but collectively they ran for over 1500 yards in 1981. The team was led in sacks that year by Ben Williams and Ken Johnson. I mean, that's what they are called after having gone into witness protection, right?

This was all before they dispensed with Coach K, I mean a coach named Kay Stephenson, and a few years later decided to hire a guy who had coached at William and Mary. No, not Sean McDermott, dummies! Marv Levy. Middling days.

Like or hate Elway and his mule smile, he wins this. Take the points. Broncos.

Packers @ Eagles (-5)

Forrest Gregg versus Dick Vermeil. Lynn Dickey versus Ron Jaworski. James Lofton versus Harold Carmichael. Eddie Lee Ivery versus Wilbert Montgomery.

Slapdash Style True Story: Stevie & Paul's hit tune "Ebony and Ivory" was originally "Eddie Lee Ivery." 

Eddie Lee... Ivery / runs through Lions defenses... forcefully / side by side with Gerry Ellis / Jealous? / Fellas, you should be!

Here's what I remember of the Packers of Slapdash's youth:

But the pre-Comms lost that game 48-47 on a last-second FG by Jan "Translation: Nothing Ages in Norway" Stenerud-boy. Monday night game in October. It was insane. And the last time Washington would lose that season. Oh, until they went to Tampa for Super Bowl XVIII and, uh... Squirek-ed their pants. Fun fact: Dave Flynn went with his dad to that game. His pop used to play OL for Oklahoma back when that meant you were a lunatic beast. When the game went bad, and it went very, very bad, his dad got in a fight with a loudmouth Raider fan while 13-year-old Flynn sat there and sipped his Sprite and wondered what was next.

This is what the Eagles of the old days makes me think of:

Celebrate good times, come on. If you're a Philly fan. (But they lost in the Super Bowl that year as well.)

If you compare those two plays, and believe me I have or my name's not Slapdash Drunkenwager, you gotta fly Eagles fly. I will now flush my fingers in the toilette for having typed that. Ewwwww.

Take the Birds giving points.

Commanders @ Buccaneers (-3)

Well, once again the durn name changes throw ol' Slapdash off, but this time it was for a purty good reason. Ask Mike Schur; he dedicates a goodly chunk of his book to that old name and dunk-boothing Daniel Snyder repeatedly and comically. Good shit.

So Washington and Tampa from the olden days of the Carter (RIP, sweet prince) and Reagan years has one bad mofo thing in common. Doug Williams. Remember him? He was awesome. Channeling the CF Show now? Let's go, Slapdash.

So, other than that? Well, in the early 1980's it was all Washington, baby. Riggo! Rev up the Diesel! Vroom, vroom, vroom! More nicknames than a Berman family reunion. Hogs, Smurfs, Fun Bunch, etc. Actually, back in the late 70's when the Bucs leapt up from the dreary beginnings of the McKay/Spurrier era...

"Coach, what do you think about your team's execution?" Head Coach John McKay: "I'm in favor of it."

...and made it to the NFC Championship game in '79, Washington was known as the Deadskins. 'Twixt George Allen and Joe Gibbs was Jack Pardee and Pardee Par Par on a the best days. Double bogey city on the rest. Anyway, you take the good ('79 Bucs, '83 pre-Commanders), you take the bad (other years), you take 'em both and there you have a fargin' close game! This one's gonna be tight. And whoever can channel their best Doug E. Fresh Williams will win.

If you're getting 3 in a game that may be won by a single point, Slapdash takes the points. Commanders.

Vikings @ Rams (+2.5)

Home dog! Speaks to the silly system the NFL now has. Alrighty, then. Minnesota and L.A. It's like Lakers history month. 

Fran Tarkenton! Tommy Kramer!
Pat Haden! Vince Ferragamo!
Bud Grant! John Robinson!
Ahmad Rashad! Phylicia Ayers-Allen!
Eric Dickerson! Rec Specs!

Slapdash is tired from not doing enough slapdash prognosticating and thinking too hard about these games.

Vikings and rams both have horns. They even hang out together. Maybe even forge a relationship and perform the physical act of lovely on cold, wintry nights like it will be Monday. They belong together.

So why are they fighting?

Minnesota lost 4 Super Bowls in the 1970's. One to the Steelers. The Rams lost one... to the Steel Curtain in January of 1980. They couldn't win one in L.A. so they said meet me in St. Louis. They should commiserate. But... L.A. won a few years ago. 

Slapdash says feel sorry for the Vikings, Bud, Fran, Ahmad, Steve Dils, the guy who traded the whole world for Herschel, and everyone freezing in Minnesota.

Take the Vikings giving a few. Do to the rams what you've always done to their kind, ye freebooting rovers of Norseland.

There you go. When you cash in big, like Slapdash Drunkenwager big, gimme a call and I'll let ya buy me a coldie.

Bettor Think Twice

I’ve never gambled much. NCAA basketball tournament pools. Betting the ponies on occasional trips to the track. Several casino outings with friends through the years. That’s about it. 

I didn’t grow up around gambling or people who did. Casinos and sports books were road trips. I never made a lot of money, so I didn’t feel like I had enough to squander. And that’s what it felt like I would have done, since gambling requires knowledge and a mindset that I don’t possess. 

Which brings me to my latest exercise. A buddy who lives on Maryland’s Eastern Shore gambles. He has an account with at least one of the online sports books that have cropped up in recent years. A raceway and casino with a sports book in Harrington, Del., is a short hop away. Starting this month, Maryland will permit online sports gaming, so that he may now bet Boise State to cover from the comfort of his commode. 

In addition to his sports book betting, he also participates in a weekly NFL pool at a local saloon. Approximately 60 people, $20 entry fee, eight-game card with point spreads, Monday night game point total tiebreaker. Winner gets $800, rest of the money goes into a kitty for a season-ending party. 

He said his picks had been dismal all season, said, why don’t you pick for me this week? He said he’d split with me if I won. I said, sure, why not, though I’d likely be terrible, as I’ve never bothered with it. He said, you can’t be any worse than me. 

I dove in. Statistical research. Matchup strengths. Teams’ ATS (against the spread) home and away. Trends. Injury reports. Perused a bunch of sites with picks, sifted through various recommendations. He thought my picks and explanations reasonable. He submitted them without change. Spoiler: I’m not building up to a dramatic windfall conclusion. I went 4-4. 

He said he likely would have done no better, and my taking over pool picks permitted him more time to dive into sports book action and various single games, parlays and multi-team teasers that he enjoys. Upshot is that he sent me the pool card the subsequent three weeks. Subject line in his email was “your mediocrity is not lost on the committee.” 

I researched and reasoned as best I can and sent picks. He’s made a few changes, but mostly gone with my picks. I’ve gone 16-13-3 the past four weeks. The curious part of all this is that I’m suddenly more interested in results. I check scores more frequently, and a couple of weeks back, even though I had ZERO dollars riding on outcomes, I was legit peeved at the Dolphins, Vikings and Rams for scuffling along and general ineptitude and not covering. I was annoyed that the Bears allowed the dreadful Lions to score three touchdowns in the last 12 minutes. Makes no sense. 

Several of you may recall that I wrote in this space recently that I had become increasingly contemptuous of and disinterested in the NFL for various reasons. Now, here I am parsing betting lines and researching teams and calling up gamecasts on Sundays. I’m either compartmentalizing or engaging in some A-level rationalization. Yes, the league needs a reckoning and a good scrubbing, but the competition is compelling and entertaining. Whatever gets you through, Scooter. 

My buddy thinks I ought to open an online account and dabble in it. Focus on the games of my choice, and don’t try to discern what Jacksonville or the Raiders are going to do in an over-bloated pool. “Never too late to ruin your life,” he said. 

Maybe I see it as a thought exercise. Objectively, after watching games for 50 years and covering them professionally for 35, I know that any-damn-thing can happen and predicting outcomes is folly, particularly when you factor in point spreads. I also know that I have neither the experience nor information that the “sharps” do. I wouldn’t be as dispassionate about winning and especially losing money as necessary. I’d like to think, however, that because I have an idea about what I’m watching and a ton of information at my disposal, that I can make reasonable choices and be moderately successful. 

But each week the answer is, naaaaah.