Losing a bet doesn’t make me mad. Losing a bet because I was foolish makes me mad.

There’s a critical difference.

Let’s use one of my recent regrettable failures as an example. This past Thursday night, I comprised this same game parlay on the Seahawks@Cowboys game:

4 Legs (+403)

CeeDee Lamb 80+ yards (HIT)

Tyler Lockett 25+ yards (HIT)

Tyler Lockett 4+ receptions (HIT)

Zach Charbonnet OVER 3.5 receptions (MISS)

Hurt my soul then and hurts my soul now, but not for the reason you're thinking of.

Entering that matchup, I was confident CeeDee would perform at home, and that Lockett would pick up decent action against the Cowboys’ damaged secondary. On top of that, for whatever reason, Lockett has contributed to most of my fantasy teams for the past half decade, so he’s just one of my guys!

Charbonnet though, that prop has a different origin story…

Like fantasy football, the internet maintains an avalanche of analysis for every move you could ever make as a sports gambler. I follow a select few of the endless Twitter accounts that spotlight props, so I referred to one of them to find a final leg for my parlay.

Well, I say referred to, but it was more like trusted. Blindly.

I believed in the abilities of Lamb and Lockett on that night. Using my own two eyes and my own two brain cells, I alone arrived at that belief.

But I didn’t believe in Carbonnet. I simply trusted that he would perform up to the level the Twitter man said he would.

So that 4-leg parlay was 3 parts belief and 1 part trust.

When you mix trust and belief, you get hope. And hope is the single stupidest emotion you can cultivate for any form of gambling (imagine crossing your fingers for an extra edge at the roulette table).

Because, y’know… you’re fucking gambling; the whole thing is undeniably designed for you to lose.

My single decision to trust rather than believe didn’t just doom the result of my parlay, it poisoned the fun of the entire exercise before it even started.

If I had won that bet, the first emotion I would’ve felt isn’t joy for my successful belief. It would be relief for my fortunate trust. Cash is cash, but relief is no reward: it’s an exhale.

Since that hopeful wager didn’t hit, I now get to reap that warm, foolish feeling. And I take away 0 new lessons from it, just a stinging reminder of the lesson I was supposed to already know…

The moment you spend money you have 100% control of on trying to predict a sports outcome you have 0% control of, your brain would do well to interpret those dollars as being set on fire.

The only guaranteed return of your purchase is the increased interest/heart rate you feel during the runtime of said sporting event. Winning any money on top of that is by definition a game of luck, no matter how hard you hunt for props or shop for lines.

This should be a fun thing. Not a stressful, stomach-churning, “shit, guess it’s Ramen for dinner again” type of thing.

A simple notion, but it sounds so soulful, don't you agree?

The aim of this bible (appropriate term) is to establish methods that maximize the fun factor of sports betting via the only part of the equation you control: the betting part.

The beauty of only wagering on things I believe will happen, is that even when they don’t happen, I can always…

1. Take solace in the fact I have nobody else to blame

2. Learn from my own mistaken analysis and start placing smarter bets

3. Ostensibly revise my ever-growing DO NOT BET list (shoutout RJ Barrett)

What’s the lesson after you copy a bet that @PropGod420 swore by but missed anyway? Drop him from your follows and replace him with a different sportsbook shyster?

This is the cycle of bankroll death, friends.

Online advice can be a useful tool, but only really if it’s corroborating or dissenting a bet you already have your own opinion on. If I was craving high odds, I should have just bumped up those receiver props and left Charbonnet alone!

Sports gambling does not guarantee a fun experience, least of all a fun result. But when you bet based on belief over trust, you’re ensuring a fun process for yourself, and the most rewarding results possible.