LAS VEGAS — How can a plan executed so well, securing the best of the college football lines at a 70-plus-percent clip with Circa’s opening numbers, flop so miserably, eviscerate profits and create a deficit?
Mailman Phil contemplated just that as he settled into a diner booth, 30 feet from an adjacent mom-and-pop sportsbook on the Vegas periphery.
South Alabama’s 20-17 game has gone final. He had the Jaguars -4 at Louisiana. It bled to -9 during the week. He felt safe.
“It’s a strange game,” Phil said last Saturday. “It can really drain you, with all the work you put into it. But it’s what I enjoy doing, so I will continue.”
Mailman Phil is all of us, Jane or Joe Six-Pack, just trying to solve the riddle of the lines, to make all the sweat and toil worthwhile. To cash a few tickets.
He is average, with an exception. Every Sunday morning, he jousts with professionals lying in wait, preparing to pounce on the Circa Sports app as it releases oddsman Matt Metcalf’s lines for the ensuing weekend.
Many of those pros maximize wagers, at five grand per side, two per total. Mailman Phil fires at far-lesser figures, on two or three top plays. The rest of his action is smaller.
The money, though, is insignificant. It’s about pride. Beating the book. On Sunday, Sept. 25, he bet into Circa’s menu with 20 wagers, his most initial positions this season. They had steadily increased with success.
He had liked how South Alabama quarterback Carter Bradley had played in a 32-31 defeat to UCLA two weeks earlier.
“But I was on the right side” with USA against the Ragin’ Cajuns. “That’s all you can ask.”
Mailman Phil emptied his backpack to find he had left his phone at home.
“Godfrey Daniel!”
LINE DOESN’T CARE
I first met Phil more than 30 years ago in Manhattan Beach, California. I covered UCLA football and hoops. He delivered the mail to the ocean-view pad.
We’d chat about sports. He hooked me into his huge college football confidence pool, 10 games a week against the line, 1-10 weighted points. We’d discuss games and betting strategies at the bar he tended on weekend nights.
I landed in Vegas, to where he’d eventually retire. With his pension and wise investments, money doesn’t worry 72-year-old Mailman Phil. Line movements, however, are a different beast.
When he gets the better of so many of those numbers, he expects to profit. He’d retreat to this establishment to update his figures and watch Arizona State-USC. Decent grub, many flat-screens, stellar background music.
Looking Glass serenaded about Brandy’s braided chain, made of the finest silver from the north of Spain, as more scores become final.
“Godfrey Daniel!” he barked again. It’s better than swearing, he confides.
He grabbed a notebook.
“I don’t even want to look inside. I’m afraid. Afraid!”
Thirteen months of profits that had amounted to more than $1,000 had been sliced to around $600 the previous week. By midnight Saturday, Mailman Phil was $600 in the red.
“I was beating the line, but the line said, ‘We don’t care!’ I’ll get one or two of these a season. Hey, you just don’t know. That’s part of the appeal of the game, why the ball is shaped funny.”
BEST MEDICINE
Veteran bettor Paul Stone, who helms an exclusive handicapping service and prizes closing-line edges, empathizes with the Mailman. Betting into Circa’s opening lines, Stone confirmed, will produce a dud or two a season.
“It’s important to understand there is variance in betting sports, and college football is certainly at, or near, the top of that list,” Stone said.
“Some bettors get bent out of shape when they have value, and lose. But that’s part of the game, if you’re routinely getting the best of the number.”
Handicapper Brad Powers tweeted Sunday that a clairvoyant who bet an opening line knowing it would move at least three points by closing time would be 112-61-2 (65%), up 44.9 units.
Hence, much of the Mailman’s losses last week were among those 61 defeats.
Pure. Bad. Luck.
He could have tried middling Louisiana +9 — Stone would have, at half the cost of a USA -4 bet, since 6 and 7 were crossed.
Mailman Phil passed. He gambled. McCartney crooned about the jailer man and sailor Sam as he surveyed the damage, with Louisville -11, LSU -6, Georgia -26/
A saving grace was a mistake; betting Northwestern multiple times, getting 28, 27.5 and 25.5 points, in its 17-7 defeat at Penn State.
He believes USC’s gaudy turnover rate is unsustainable, that its poor rush defense will cost it Oct. 15 at Utah.
A Baker Mayfield ad aired on a screen. The Mailman said the quarterback should quit football to focus full-time on comedy. “He makes me laugh.”
Mailman Phil can laugh at himself. He jumped back into the fray Sunday morning, halving wagers on Oregon -10 (at Arizona), Ohio State -24 (at Michigan State) and Kansas State in a pick’em at Iowa State.
There are five other top plays. A dozen more cost a pittance. Over the speakers, Mick mentioned Mr. Jimmy.
“The work involved is mind-boggling,” Mailman Phil said as he rubs his eyes. “You’re doing it right, but it doesn’t mean you’ll win. This isn’t for everyone.”
