Yesterday’s picks needed an autopsy. Today’s card needs three games. And apparently ordering regular coffee is now an edge case.
The Riff
I’ve been going to the same Starbucks pretty much every day for more than 15 years.
I’m basically Norm from Cheers at this point.
I walk through the door, and the emps yell:
“BENZO!”
Okay, maybe they don’t all yell Benzo every morning.
But that’s how I choose to remember it. Plus as I’m getting older, it is a reminder of my name, which is probably a good thing.
They know me. They know my order. They know my particular brand of humor. Most importantly, they understand that when I start asking questions about whatever ridiculous limited-edition drink Starbucks is promoting, there’s a pretty good chance I’m not actually interested in drinking it.
This weekend Starbucks had a limited-edition Unicorn drink.
Pink. Purple. Sparkly. I’m not entirely sure what was in it, but it looked like something you’d serve at a gender reveal for a My Little Pony.
So naturally I walked up to the counter and ordered one.
Except I wanted my Unicorn hot.
In a grande cup.
And I didn’t want any of the stuff that actually comes in a Unicorn.
Just coffee.
Black.
This was funny to me.
Unfortunately, there was a newer employee working the register.
She didn’t yet understand the complexities of my relationship with Starbucks.
Or apparently the complexities of just black coffee.
She stared at the register.
Then at me.
Then back at the register.
And here’s where I probably should have helped her.
I did not.
Because after 15 years, I’ve earned certain privileges.
Instead, I watched as she tried to figure out how to enter a hot grande Unicorn containing only black coffee into a computer system designed by a corporation that has apparently anticipated every possible combination of milk, syrup, foam, protein foam, fruit, temperature, and emotional support…
except coffee.
Eventually she called over another employee.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
The second employee knew me.
He looked at me.
He looked at the new employee.
And I’m pretty sure somewhere behind his eyes was:
He’s messing with you.
But he played along.
Because she’s a professional.
And because apparently this is what passes for entertainment when you’ve been going to the same Starbucks every morning for 15 years.
Eventually they figured out how to ring up my Unicorn.
Grande.
Hot.
Black.
It arrived in a cup.
It was brown.
It tasted exactly like coffee. And it cost $2 more than my regular order… which is strange because ultimately it was my regular order. Just now it apparently had an imaginary horn.
Five stars. Excellent Unicorn.
Which brings us to baseball, where Bertie and I have also spent an extraordinary amount of time adding complexity to something that should theoretically be simple.
Picking which team is going to win.
But different.
The Autopsy
Yesterday:
1-2.
Again.
At some point, calling this section The Autopsy stops being a joke and starts becoming a description of our business model.
CWS/Detroit F5 Under 4 ❌
We’re done.
Finished.
The restraining order has been filed.
For three straight days, these teams spent the first five innings repeatedly explaining that they had absolutely no interest in our under.
Yesterday it was 4-3 after five.
Seven runs.
We had four.
This wasn’t a bad beat.
This wasn’t variance.
This wasn’t an umpire.
This was us looking at recent pitcher numbers while the actual baseball happening directly in front of us kept saying:
Stop doing this.
So we’re adding something to the grinder.
Not necessarily Rule #5.
We have enough rules.
But momentum gets a vote.
Pitcher data matters.
Recent offense matters.
Matchups matter.
But if the actual series is screaming something completely different, maybe we should stop putting our fingers in our ears because somebody gave us a shiny number.
Atlanta ML ✅
Thank you, Atlanta.
Braves win 5-3.
Bryce Elder went six innings and allowed one earned run.
Which means our I Suck So Bad I Might Get Better Rule survives another day.
Remember, the Suck Rule doesn’t say:
He sucked, therefore bet him.
It says:
He sucked, therefore don’t automatically assume he’ll suck forever.
Subtle distinction.
Potentially important distinction.
Also a distinction we learned immediately after betting Wrobo.
The laboratory occasionally installs the smoke detector after the fire.
Washington ML ❌
This was the one we should have caught.
Washington was sitting there at a lovely plus-money price.
Christian Scott had recent numbers we could attack.
Washington had been scoring.
We had reasons.
Lots of reasons.
The Mets had also won eight of eleven coming into the game.
They won again.
4-3.
Sometimes value is value.
And sometimes value is just a cheaper ticket to the wrong side.
We spent so much time figuring out why Washington could win that we didn’t spend enough time asking why we wanted to stand in front of a team that was already winning.
Momentum gets a vote.
Apparently it would like to testify.
The Giant Scoreboard
Yesterday moves the running record to:
ALL SPORTS: 1,020-1,043-7
Still underwater.
Still grinding.
Still 0-1 in tennis.
Who the hell bets on tennis?
At this point I’m leaving that record there forever.
If I ever bet another tennis match and win, I’m not sure I’m updating it.
0-1 is funnier.
My model. My rules.
Today’s Grinder
Only eleven games today.
That helped.
We used consensus numbers again because this entire operation works considerably better when I’m not sitting here reading 47 betting lines to Bertie before I’ve finished my Unicorn.
We ground the board.
Momentum got its newly acquired vote.
Three survived.
St. Louis Game 1 ML
The Cardinals have won seven of their last ten, Cincinnati comes into a weird five-game/four-day stretch, and the Reds bullpen has been doing enough work lately that somebody should probably bring them sandwiches.
Reasonable price.
Home team.
Momentum agrees with the handicap.
That’s a refreshing development.
Atlanta ML
Yep.
Again.
Not because Atlanta won yesterday.
That’s important.
We’re trying very hard not to turn handicapping into:
THING HAPPENED YESTERDAY. THING HAPPEN AGAIN.
Today’s matchup independently led us back to Atlanta.
Different day.
Different game.
Same pick.
But different.
Dodgers/Rockies F5 Over 5.5
And then we have Coors.
Blake Snell has been pitching well.
Normally that would make me nervous about an over.
But on the other side is Shun Sugano, and this is where the Dodgers get interesting.
The Dodgers lineup gets Coors.
The market already expects runs.
We’re only asking for six in the first five innings.
And Ohtani has apparently looked at Sugano in the past and decided baseballs belong considerably farther away from home plate.
We’re taking the F5 Over 5.5.
The Dodgers can do most of the work.
Colorado is invited to participate.
There will be refreshments.
Side note: Shun Sugano was actually my nom de plume when I was writing Godzilla fan-fiction erotica anime novels. Small world.
Today’s Picks
St. Louis Game 1 ML
Atlanta ML
Dodgers/Rockies F5 Over 5.5
Three survived.
And we’re putting them into the whole round-robin contraption:
Singles. Doubles. Triple.
Seven different ways for three baseball games to affect my emotional well-being.
The accounting department does not publish the actual stakes.
They’ve been through enough.
Tomorrow
Three picks.
No fourth one because we found an attractive price hiding underneath a couch cushion.
No betting against momentum simply because the dog looked clever.
And absolutely no White Sox/Tigers First Five Under.
That bet is currently prohibited from coming within 500 feet of Benzo Industries.
Meanwhile, somewhere at Starbucks, that newer employee has hopefully received the updated training manual:
UNICORN, BENZO
Grande. Hot. Black coffee. Do not ask questions.
Maybe someday they’ll even put a button on the register.
Until then, I’ll keep ordering Unicorns. At least until they develop the Capybara drink. Hint — it’s chalky.
And Bertie and I will keep trying to figure out baseball using a system that’s becoming considerably more complicated than the Starbucks menu.
Tomorrow we’ll find out whether the Cardinals, Braves, and five innings at Coors can accomplish something equally complicated.
Win three baseball bets.
If not, we’ll perform another autopsy.
We’ve gotten pretty good at those.
Bad Picks. Better Stories.
This isn’t called Pick What I Pick.
It’s called Don’t Pick What I Pick.
Please wager accordingly.
