I came off the bench three weeks ago, colder than Paulie and Christopher at Pine Barrens, and promptly stole an ATM, filled it with manure, and dropped it on your bookie. Hadn't handicapped a game since NFL week one, but that wouldn't prevent the Vox from releasing his biggest play in over fourteen months- a 4-dime lock on the Cowboys. My bookmaker sees Vox on his Caller ID and he's already laying off my action in his head. Can't blame him. We came within a field goal of sweeping the entire weekend against the spread. Unfortunately, nowadays, I don't drop words or wagers as much I should. My contributions to society as a parent, salesman, teacher, coach and ex-husband prevent me from investing time into my two notorious passions, but SuperBowl Sunday is always my annual confluence of gambling and writing. Some history: 364 days ago, I plucked the underdog Seahawks for two dimes and broke up with Cavs. The year prior, I begrudgingly backed the Ratbirds in the Harbaugh Bowl. In 2011, I hit on my biggest bet ever- a Fergalicious 10-Dimer hunch-play on the Packers. And in my first ever SB release for CST, I virtually nailed the exact score. I own this game, yes, but I am human...and lost two dimes on the Patriots in 2012 on the day I counted off the Ten Sexiest Men Alive.
|I just wanna use your love tonight|
Speaking of sexy- what an effortless transition- hello, Tom Brady--the last Wolverine QB to win in Ohio Stadium and America's favorite sports enemy. An aloof and enigmatic cross between 1990s Christian Laettner and Manchester United-era David Beckham, Brady surely must've inked a deal with the devil--because his looks, talent and accomplishments translate to this generation's Joe Montana. But while Montana was revered across every NFL city, Brady is ridiculed. He's become Darth Vader to Belichick's Emperor and is generally despised outside of Massachusetts. However, around the mid-way point of Brady's career, I stopped fighting my feelings for him. I once wrote that Tom is "spiritually easy," but after he erased two-touchdown deficits TWICE in their division round victory over Baltimore, I finally grasped why Brady is so irresistible to my football palate.
See, for fifteen years, Clevelanders have been condemned to a modified version of the NFL. Games are rarely enjoyable, largely because our offense sets the standard for failure and folly. While scraping the ice off my car on dark Monday mornings, only fifteen hours removed from the latest Browns debacle, I've often wondered if Cleveland is the earthly-version of Hell. Should I be so helplessly immersed in a tradition that offers no healthy reciprocation? After four months of that shit, I'm beat-down and weak. Enter playoff weekends in January, and Brady restores and refreshes my faith in football. He magically throws to small, undefended spaces across the field and occasionally slits the secondary's throat with a calculating scramble or sneak into the endzone. First comes the Brady fist pump after the winning score, then fast forward to the final moments of a New England win, and you'll find the Foxborough faithful crooning The Outfield's "Your Love." Gives me goosebumps every time...and I curse my great, great grandfather's brother, NathanVox of Radzilow Poland, for taking the train to the CLE when Boston was surely much closer.
Patriots (pick) over Seattle, 4 Dimes
Divisional Round: 3-1, +6 Dimes
Season: 5-3, +6 Dimes
Vox CST SuperBowl Record Against the Spread: 4-2, +12 Dimes
Career: 147-127-14, +41 Dimes