Thanksgiving in Las Vegas on the surface appears unusual. Here it is a holiday, and you're in a town that seems to shun day and date, time and length of day. When you enter by car or plane, you can clearly see you're in a city, but unless you drive around, it seems that everyone is from somewhere else with no one home.
Then again, think about every other trip to Las Vegas, whether it's a holiday or not, and the timing doesn't matter beyond the weather. Was it cool and windy as fuck? Was it hotter than shit? Was it "just right?" Even if it was, once you get there, you're ready for action. The rest? Everything outside the cash-grab maelstrom? It doesn't matter. Even when shopping at the finest supermarket in the West (expansive, full of deals, and there's slot machines by the checkout) my mind was on sports. How could it not?
I feared that I would have to spend time explaining the variations of bets to those not caring, or trying to enforce the value of sportsbook living, when I find that my sister placed her first-ever sports bets. She tried to tie it to her fantasy football team, but before she could start to expound on a subject which interests only herself, I found the topic to her and I getting along: the very thing that I love about Las Vegas the most. What were the odds? Oh, here's the difference between points and moneyline. Here's what to look for in a parlay. I was a fountain of ideas, and to my amazement, she responded in awe. To me, this was the key to move forward...to see how much of an addiction this had become in mere hours.
"Here's a stat sheet from the sportsbook. The lines may have changed, so ignore that. Look at the trends. Now, if you're setting up a parlay, this can be helpful...take Miami of Ohio for example..."
"Oh...yeah, so, wait, what's the line?"
Honestly, had you told me all I'd have to do is get her into sports gambling, our relationship might have been saved years ago. But when she was left to nurture that idea on her own, I ambled around the casino, looking at rivalry games that just scream STAY AWAY. If you don't believe me, or hold up the Dawgs vs. Tech, my response to that is Washington and Washington State. The Huskies beat Stanford, but couldn't beat Wazzu? Yikes. Nothing stings like that feeling: in the nerve center, not seeing anything appealing. That's how one used to end up in a hockey parlay knowing nothing about anything. (Back when there was hockey, of course)
I took one last lap around the casino floor to collect my thoughts. Either I dive head first into this and pick something, just because, and live with it...or I don't and accept my fate. I see a man leaving the 'book wearing a T-shirt that says "You Ain't Me." And thank goodness for that life switch: he is being lead...nay, pushed out by a frumpy looking lady. I continued to weave through the slot machines seeing a man in front of a video poker machine that reads "JACKPOT! $1250.00" He is smiling, scratching his chin, while the machine goes nuts. Others would scream, but he just nodded thinking "That's right..."
Just then, the phone rings from the financial conscious. "Hey - Louisiana Tech and San Jose State. You've gotta bet the over." I look at the line and say to him "76 points?" "Come on!," he implored, "it's the last WAC game ever." He made a good point. The conference who put the pass, pass, who cares about defense style in vogue (a style embraced by the Big XII) was slipping quietly into the night. They were on ESPN or something...they had to do it right. I opened the wallet, money down, and off I went.
Just in case you didn't see the final - the two teams passed the O/U with the first score in the 4th Quarter. Ah, WAC Football. We'll miss your zany games. But it's a new day, a weekend-in-sportsbook-only trip is needed, and someone new is in the fold. She'll learn to put away horrific nachos while scanning notes and taking in another free drink. That's the vocation. Make it happen.
