Super Bowl Proposition Bets
Super Bowl proposition bets represent the gaming within the big game. Some sports books like the Las Vegas Hilton Superbook have a few hundred prop bets — which can range from simple bets (who might score the first, or longest touchdown) to any number of more ridiculous props that include if Tom Brady will have more touchdown passes than NBA star Kobe Bryant has made 3-pointers — are designed to make every play count for Nevada's betting public, right down to the last second.
Events
- Big Game 2008 Event (2-3-2007)
Worse things could have happened heading into Super Bowl weekend.
At least I keep telling myself that.
Friend and colleague Ron Kantowski wanted to help a younger writer enjoy a big-screen Super Bowl Sunday. And he had no need for his old 53-inch Panasonic high-def-ready flat-screen, having just purchased an even bigger television in time for the big game.
Plus, his wife wanted the monster — with a screen only slightly smaller than the Hoover Dam — out of her dining room.
The friend price was $200, a steal, the deal of the century. And just in time for a huge TV weekend. I was going to host a viewing party for UFC 81 tonight, then planned to really break in the big fella Sunday by settling in for hours of nearly life-size tackles, halftime concerts and possible wardrobe malfunctions.
It was going to be a significant upgrade from my 15-year-old Sanyo 27-incher, a television that’s been through my mom’s living room, two college dorms, a college apartment shared with three frat boys and two apartments in less-than-desirable sections of southeastern Pennsylvania.
This was like upgrading from a Ford Escort to a Cadillac Escalade.
But some things — like Girls Direct to Your Room and Free Show Tickets — are too good to be true, even in Vegas.
What followed was a Seinfeld-like comedy of errors, the kind of stupid thing you do then quickly regret, like betting on the Buffalo Bills or buying a time share.
I suggested placing the television on its back in the bed of my truck. “Nah,” Ron told me. “It might slide around a bunch.” Good point, I thought.
His wife offered us a winchlike tool. We politely declined, figuring there was no need when we had a piece of thin rope and three bungee cords.
So we stood the television upright in the truck bed and secured it.
It’s a long ride from near downtown Henderson across the valley to Southern Highlands. But I took it slow, holding my breath as I eased over railroad tracks and bumps in the road.
We were almost home. Almost.
Then I heard the thump.
“Oh, darn!” wasn’t the exact phrase I used. (Think Ralphie in the tire-changing scene in “A Christmas Story” and you’re closer to the mark.)
We maintained hope. They make these things pretty strong. It was just a little bump, we told ourselves, doing our best to ignore the fact that this little bump came at 40 mph into a hard truck bed liner. It’s probably fine.
Then we lifted the TV out of the truck.
We will never forget the sickening noise, not unlike what you’d hear if you shook around a box filled with two dozen shattered wine glasses. Ron would later say it’s the worst thing he’d heard since 1984 in San Diego, when the home crowd cheered the demise of his beloved Cubbies in the National League playoffs.
It really is heartbreaking. The dead television rests in my garage, a taunting reminder of what might have been. As for the $200, well, let’s just say Ron currently has the play under review.
Worse yet, once you know what a 53-inch screen looks like — and dream about how sweet UFC and NFL broadcasts would be — it’s difficult to see my old weathered tube as anything but a relic that belongs in a museum.
There’s only one thing that can make this right, one thing to ease the pain.
I’m going shopping for a new TV. Maybe I’ll pay for delivery.
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