LAS VEGAS — Last weekend’s college football holiday extravaganza played out, nearly in its glorious five-day entirety, before me at the South Point sportsbook.
How does Florida, with a starting quarterback, go to Utah on Aug. 31 and fail so miserably against the Cameron Rising-less Utes to trigger, for me, such woe?
I would discuss betting strategies with someone who watched Ted Williams play baseball at Fenway Park.
Penn State would deliver a low blow, Florida State an uppercut.
First, Oahu.
MAJOR MOVES
How does that opener of Stanford -10 against Hawaii get sliced to about three by kickoff on Sept. 1 — by sharps — only to get smashed?
Stanford won 37-24. Hawaii tallied two total yards on its first three possessions. Expert punters were reduced to idiot schoolboys.
“We cleaned up on that game,” a source inside a prominent Vegas book’s risk room tells me. “Six figures, from our sharpest accounts. Definitely a significant move from that high to that short of a price.”
“And to pass through seven . . . that’s major.”
Week 1 games, including Stanford-Hawaii, were released with seven Week 0 tilts a few weeks ago.
At the South Point, book director Chris Andrews says Stanford -10 got chopped to 6.5 before being removed for Hawaii-Vanderbilt in Week 0. Hawaii covered. Andrews adjusted power figures.
“Hawaii was a lot better than we thought — at least, so to speak. They hung in there with Vandy, an SEC team — but it was Vandy, for God’s sake.”
Andrews re-posted Stanford-Hawaii at Cardinal -4, which patrons steadily shaved to 2.5.
Supposed savvy bettors were so wrong.
“I certainly don’t wanna get cocky. A lot of those guys are really sharp and I respect their opinions. The sharpest guys who hit 57, 58%? They’re [still] losing 43, 42% of the time.
“You respect the money. You move the numbers. It was a real big game for us. Definitely, the wise guys were on Hawaii.”
But this wrong?
“Remember, we’re betting on 18- to 20-year-old kids — that’s a lot of volatility.”
It’s good to be the house.
“Most of the time, it is. I say, Don’t cry for the bookmaker. We’ll be okay.”
DECOMPRESSION
The most anticipated game last Saturday was Colorado kicking off at TCU at 9 a.m. Whatever the 19.5-point-underdog Buffaloes do well produces claps and cheers.
Red, the carrot-topped guy sitting in front of me to the left, squirms when Michigan, giving 35.5 points and ahead 30-0, punts late.
He barks about the backup quarterback having 20 helmet stickers this early in a season. East Carolina covers. Red fumes.
Back at TCU, the Horned Frogs score late but, as Red says, it’s too early. “Left too much time on the clock!”
Indeed, coach Prime wins 45-42.
Peter, an 80-year-old lawyer from Rochester, New York, who saw Ted Williams way back when, sits to my left and beams about the Buffaloes.
“Those guys played their hearts out. Doesn’t get any better. You know there will be upsets, but rarely a big one like that.”
Twenty-six-point-dog Texas State wins at Baylor. A $100 moneyline parlay of the Bobcats (+1800) to Colorado (+800) both winning outright would have returned $17,000. Alas, nobody reports such a windfall.
Peter’s unkempt white hair and bushy mustache give him an Einstein countenance. He visits Vegas monthly, and his legal work and these point spreads keep him sharp.
He makes a second-half wager on Utah State, which covers in a defeat at Iowa.
“I like the grit of mountain teams. I come here, have a good time. Relax. It’s all about decompression.”
COMFY CHAIRS
Red mourns the evaporation of a 21-7 Northern Illinois lead. At 21-21, Boston College forces overtime. The Huskies are getting 11 points, but many had earmarked them as the weekend’s boss moneyline play at +280.
(Risk $100, get $380 back.)
Red says, “I’m going to shame them for the rest of my life.”
Unnecessary. NIU wins 27-24.
Peter bets $200 a game and applauds Rice’s 37-10 loss to Texas, since he took the Owls and 35 points.
Before us hang four large screens. Above and around those are 26 smaller TVs. “And these chairs,” Peter says as he reclines, “are the best.”
John the Barber, the property’s tonsorial ace who seems to profit hundreds daily on parlays, drops by and trumpets 48-point-favorite Oregon against Portland State.
The Ducks nearly cover that by halftime of an 81-7 rout. He says, “But you can never know with college kids.”
In a bar behind the book, a patron howls Wuh-ooh Wuh-oooooooh — a common L.A. Coliseum cry — whenever 38.5-point-favorite USC scores.
Mercifully, it’s silent back there for the Trojans’ final scores of a 66-14 triumph over Nevada; his own team had drained his energy.
TRASHED TICKETS
When Penn State scores at the end, instead of just bleeding the last few seconds of a secured victory, my West Virginia ticket loses. Florida State, the next day, will dust my LSU ducat. I will cash just two of maybe two dozen tickets all weekend. That I’m a minnow and play half-unit wagers this early are saving graces.
Peter, meanwhile, collects more winners. From his family’s Long Island home, he’d tune his transistor to a Hartford station to listen to the Splendid Splinter’s Red Sox games.
He seems sympathetic to my thin wallet.
“Well, play the opposite of what you’re thinking. Just don’t cheer against me.”
