The Riff

I found out something yesterday.

In Massachusetts, you need a license to tell fortunes.

Not drive a car.

Not perform surgery.

Tell fortunes.

Okay, you also need licenses for those other things.

But apparently somewhere in the Massachusetts government, somebody looked at fortune telling and thought:

We need to get our arms around this. Link to the article.

And there’s more.

If you want your own fortune-telling license, Massachusetts law generally requires you to have lived in the city or town where you plan to predict the future for at least 12 months.

Think about that.

You can see 30 years into the future.

But first, Massachusetts would like some documentation regarding where you lived last March.

I would love to watch the licensing process.

STATE EMPLOYEE: How long have you lived in Franklin?

PSYCHIC: Eleven months.

STATE EMPLOYEE: I’m sorry. You don’t qualify.

PSYCHIC: I knew you were going to say that.

STATE EMPLOYEE: Then why did you come?

Fair point.

I also want to know what happens if you’re denied.

Because presumably the first question on the application should be:

WILL YOU RECEIVE A FORTUNE-TELLING LICENSE?

Yes.

No.

If you check the wrong box, I’m not sure we need to continue with the application.

Massachusetts law also apparently distinguishes between fortune-telling and pretended fortune-telling.

Now we’ve got ourselves a government program. Because somebody has to determine the difference.

I desperately want this job.

Massachusetts Department of Pretended Fortune Telling.

You’d have undercover investigators.

Some guy in a trench coat and Selleck stache walks into a psychic’s office.

“I’d like to know whether I’ll meet someone special.”

She turns over three tarot cards.

“I see a mysterious stranger entering your life.”

Stranger DANGER! Badge hits table.

“Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Fortune Enforcement Division.”

Busted.

The interesting part is that Salem actually has rules describing what constitutes fortune-telling.

Tarot cards.

Tea leaves.

Crystal balls.

Palmistry.

Necromancy.

Telepathy.

Dice.

Sticks.

Sand.

Potions.

Charms.

Magnetized objects.

And…

Coffee grounds.

Son of a bitch. We’ve accidentally returned to Starbucks. And we couldn’t see into the future and parking was not available.

Again.

Apparently, for the last 15 years I’ve been throwing away perfectly good gambling information every morning.

I’ve got Bertie studying starting pitchers, bullpens, recent form, and betting markets while the answer has been sitting at the bottom of my Pike Place. Black. No Room. No Stopper. Save the turtles.

Tomorrow I’m skipping the spreadsheet.

Just finish the coffee.

Turn the cup over.

Let the grounds settle.

I see…

Seven Dodgers runs.

Actually, based on yesterday, maybe don’t listen to the coffee either.

And according to the article I was reading, one Salem warlock says you can basically find omens anywhere.

Including a bag of Doritos.

Now we’re getting somewhere.

Because I’ve spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out what information should actually matter when handicapping baseball.

Starting pitching.

Bullpens.

Recent performance.

Matchups.

Momentum gets a vote.

The Suck Rule.

No guy named Zebby.

Apparently I overlooked:

Cool Ranch.

Imagine the morning grinder.

BERTIE: Milwaukee has a slight starting-pitching advantage.

BENZO: Agreed.

BERTIE: Bullpens are roughly neutral.

BENZO: Okay.

BERTIE: Momentum favors Milwaukee.

BENZO: Gets a vote.

I open the Doritos.

One chip is curled slightly to the left.

We stare at it.

LOCK.

To be honest sometimes it feels like we are doing that already. Let’s discuss yesterday.

Because Bertie and I essentially wake up every morning, look at a bunch of numbers and announce what hasn’t happened yet.

And yesterday:

We went 0-3.

Massachusetts may have a point.

At least the psychic has a license. We have losing virtual tickets that we can virtually rip up and make it rain. Shout out to Section 212, OG Vegas Golden Knights Season ticket holder, and official “make it rain” man (me).

The Autopsy

This one’s going to be quick.

Mostly because all three patients are dead.

Dodgers Team Total Over 6.5 ❌

We needed seven.

The Dodgers scored:

Six.

Naturally.

This wasn’t some catastrophic handicap.

Los Angeles scored four early, got into the Colorado bullpen, and eventually scored two more in the tenth.

Six.

One short.

That’s not a new rule.

That’s baseball standing directly in front of you holding up one finger.

Good handicap.

Good wrapper.

Wrong by one run.

Move along.

Pittsburgh Team Total Over 4.5 ❌

Needed five.

Pittsburgh scored:

Four.

I’m sensing a theme.

Unlike the Dodgers bet, though, I don’t think we get to call this one good process.

Our entire handicap was:

Attack Jackson Jobe.

Jobe went 5⅓ innings and allowed one run.

That’s fairly conclusive.

Even better, Pittsburgh rallied late and actually won the game 4-3.

Remember why we chose the team total?

We didn’t trust Skenes enough to take Pittsburgh money line. Skenes is close to becoming a Zebby.

The Pirates won anyway.

Our special customized wrapper designed to protect us from the thing we feared…

lost.

Baseball is very considerate that way.

Bad handicap.

Move along.

Milwaukee ML ❌

This is the one I want back.

The day before, Milwaukee beat Seattle:

22-0.

We looked at that score yesterday morning and specifically said:

This is exactly the kind of result that can make us stupid today.

Good observation.

Then we spent approximately ten minutes explaining why Milwaukee was still the right bet.

Seattle scored four in the first.

Three in the second.

Milwaukee lost 7-5.

The Mariners scored all seven runs in the first two innings after losing by 22 the night before.

So I’m putting something in the notebook.

Not necessarily a new Rule.

More like a warning label:

THE HUMILIATION PRINCIPLE

After an extreme blowout, the team that got humiliated deserves extra consideration the next day.

Not because athletes magically become better when they’re embarrassed.

Not because THEY WANT IT MORE.

But because an extreme result can distort the way we evaluate the next game.

Yesterday’s 22-0 told us almost nothing about yesterday’s matchup.

But it made Milwaukee look awfully comfortable.

We saw the trap.

We discussed the trap.

Then we parked in it anyway. No we are sitting in Starbucks trapped by the guy in the emblazoned “Vegas Tiny Homes” truck that is probably bigger than most of the homes they look at.

Apparently this is becoming a theme around here.

The Giant Scoreboard

Yesterday’s 0-3 moves us to:

ALL SPORTS: 1,024-1,048-7

Still underwater.

Now slightly more underwater.

And because we played all legs of the round robin:

Singles: dead.

Doubles: dead.

Triple: extremely dead.

Seven tickets entered.

None returned.

Which sounds considerably more dramatic than the actual amount of money involved.

And sitting peacefully in the corner:

TENNIS: 0-1

Who the hell bets on tennis?

Although after yesterday, I’m beginning to think we should ask a licensed Massachusetts fortune teller, but only if they wear incredibly tight tennis shorts with a Selleck stache.

Today’s Grinder

So today we’re making picks immediately after discovering that Massachusetts requires government approval to predict the future.

Excellent timing.

After yesterday’s 0-3, there was an obvious temptation:

Find three more picks.

Because that’s what we do.

Three picks gives us the round robin.

Three picks looks right in the article.

Three picks makes it feel like we’ve accomplished something.

Which is also a pretty good recipe for manufacturing bets that don’t belong on the board.

So today we added another principle:

Three is a maximum. Not a quota.

We started with Texas.

Jacob deGrom.

At home.

Washington.

Looked good.

Then we kept grinding.

And the more we looked, the less comfortable it became.

DeGrom had left his previous start after two innings with triceps fatigue. As someone who knows, I have muscle fatigue too… not fun.

Texas had just been shut out.

The Rangers had lost six of eight.

Momentum raised its hand.

So Texas got downgraded.

Then we found two totals we liked better.

Houston/Angels Under 8.5

Rather than paying the Houston favorite tax, we’re betting the game environment.

Eight gets us home.

Nine kills us.

Simple.

No complicated wrapper.

No one named Zebby or Skenes.

At least as far as I know.

Seattle/Milwaukee Under 7.5

Yes.

We’re going back to the scene of the crime.

Two days ago:

Milwaukee 22, Seattle 0.

Yesterday:

Seattle 7, Milwaukee 5.

Today we’re looking at that and saying:

Sure. Under.

This is either disciplined handicapping or the beginning of a competency hearing.

George Kirby is a big part of the reason we’re here, and instead of trying to predict which version of this series shows up today, we’re betting the pitching matchup.

Seven runs or fewer.

That’s it.

Texas ML

And Texas survived.

Barely.

It’s our weakest opinion of the three.

Which created another problem.

Normally we’d play all three singles, all three doubles and the triple.

But after an 0-3 day, that felt a little bit like responding to a house fire by buying more matches.

So today:

We’re Playing Three Doubles

That’s it.

No singles.

No triple.

Three picks.

Three combinations.

HOU/LAA Under 8.5 + SEA/MIL Under 7.5

HOU/LAA Under 8.5 + TEX ML

SEA/MIL Under 7.5 + TEX ML

Texas doesn’t get to pretend it’s a three-star standalone pick.

It has to bring a friend.

I like that.

And if all three picks win, all three doubles win.

If two win, one double survives.

If we go 0-3 again…

I’m buying the Doritos.

Tomorrow

Massachusetts apparently requires fortune tellers to demonstrate that they’re legitimate enough to receive a license.

I don’t know exactly what the standard is.

But after yesterday, I’m fairly certain Bertie and I would be asked to leave the building.

Today we’re predicting two baseball games will stay under their totals and Texas will win.

We’ve used pitching data.

Recent performance.

Momentum.

Market prices.

Common sense.

And restraint.

No coffee grounds.

No tarot cards.

No magnetized objects.

No Cool Ranch Doritos.

Yet.

If the three doubles lose, tomorrow’s grinder may look considerably different.

I’ll pour the coffee.

Bertie can shuffle the tarot deck.

And we’ll let the Dorito make the final call.

At least until Massachusetts shuts us down.

Bad Picks. Better Stories.

This isn’t called Pick What I Pick.

It’s called Don’t Pick What I Pick.

Please wager accordingly.