Two old-school franchises promise a captivating clash in Dallas.
Green Bay and Pittsburgh have been at each other’s throats since Christ was a corporal.
Vegas and the public are delighted with this package because both teams are magnets for bettors.
Aaron Rodgers has an arm like a howitzer, and Pittsburgh made the Super Bowl despite only showing up for the first half against the Jets and the second half against the Ravens. If they play a complete game Sunday, Green Bay’s in trouble.
That’s all the recap, hyperbole and analysis you’re going to get out of me — instead, a story.
John Timoney, former police chief of two cities and commissioner of a third, published a memoir, “Beat Cop to Top Cop: A Tale of Three Cities.” John shared a yarn with me over a pint.
On Dec. 29, 1968, Timoney, then a rookie cop, was leaving his precinct house at 8 a.m. when he spotted Joe Namath.
After what was obviously a rough night, “Broadway Joe” was exiting the side entrance of the Grand Summit Hotel. Namath’s famed right arm was draped around the shoulder of a charming young creature in go-go boots. The Dublin-born Timoney recognized a hangover when he saw one.
Jackpot: Timoney had coveted inside information. In just five hours, the Jets would play Oakland for the AFC Championship at Shea Stadium. Timoney scrambled to a pay phone.
He pressed his brother to “send it in” on Oakland.
In the most physical game Namath ever played, he led the Jets past the Raiders and into the Super Bowl 27-23.
The rookie cop blew his rent money.
Another friend, Red, is a bookmaker.
These days, computers take all the action. Many of Red’s Wall Street customers subscribe to high-priced betting services. Before games, Red checks his computer to see what teams he needs and for how much.
Because he sees his customer’s bets, Red has free access to all his players’ sports handicapping services for free. Not one expensive betting service, but four, yet even he can’t make money gambling.
That’s the bottom line: inside information, both sides of the law, both losers.
Here’s a gambler’s perspective of the game.
Toughness of schedule, injuries and everything else a handicapper thinks about have already been figured into the line.
Early prognosticators had this game as a pick-em, but that didn’t happen. The Packers settled into championship weekend as minus $140 to $100 favorites.
After Pittsburgh beat the Jets, the line Sunday night opened Packers minus-2, or minus-2.5.
Bookies love this line.
Because scores don’t usually fall on these numbers, bookies can seesaw back and forth between 2 and 2.5 to balance money.
On gameday, dumpsters full of money couldn’t get Vegas to move off a line the number usually falls on such as: 3, 4, 7, 8, 10 or 11.
Corporations concocted a way to pump more money into the system. If you bet the game, or the total, you can “purchase” half a point.
So, let’s say you like the underdog, and the line is 5.5. Instead of betting $110 to win $100, Vegas “allows” you to wager $120 to win $100. This makes your bet more attractive at plus-6 but costs you “double juice.”
Here’s where corporations really get cute.
This year’s Super Bowl line is 2.5. No one who likes the Packers will risk double juice to buy a half-point and lay a 2 instead of a 2.5. But if a bettor likes Pittsburgh, the plot thickens.
Underdog bettors crave that plus-3. That’s a number that could save their asses. But CEOs who run casinos know this, so they charge triple juice. That’s right, $130 to win $100 if you want Pittsburgh plus-3. I also see a plus-3 at minus $125. They might as well put a gun to your head.
As of yet, the only money bet on Sunday’s game has been “smart” money. The general public won’t pour cash into this contest until gameday. Regardless of how much money comes in on the Pack, I can’t see this line going to 3.5.
It’s bookmaking 101. Don’t get “middled.”
Middled means that if Vegas open Packers minus-2.5, I bet Green Bay early and lay 2.5. Later, I wait until the line goes up, and I bet Pittsburgh plus-3.5. If the game falls 3, I win both ways. I’ve middled the spread.
Bookies get killed. I recall that happening twice: Dallas-Pittsburgh, 1976 (the game fell 4) and Green Bay-New England, 1997 (the game fell 14).
When this happens, bookies scramble to find a ledge. They literally have to wait in line to jump. The only thing bookies fear worse than getting middled on the Super Bowl is if the “number” 317 falls on Paddy’s Day.
They wake up screaming over that. For the sheltered and uninformed among you, I’ll save “numbers” for another time, but remember this:
If people behind betting services could predict winners, they wouldn’t sell information or write columns. They’d do as you or I would. They’d sit in bed all day with cell phones and high-priced company sipping champagne.
When Wilson manufactures square footballs, when rubber no longer bounces, then “experts” will pick winners. Until then, embed your cash in your hands, and keep those hands in your pockets.
Bill O’Connor is a Vietnam veteran, former Bronx firefighter and pub and restaurant owner. He is currently a journalism major at UF and a standup comic.
The highly irreverent and acerbic O’Connor performs free standup comedy in various locations in Gainesville.
