for those who don't know, Nolan has his own page here at madjacks and it's updated daily.
http://www.madjacksports.com/nolan.htm
THE GOLDMAN EXPERIMENT
I've been wanting to go public with this new betting system for almost two years. Now, I have decided to share it with readers. The idea I am about to tell you about is derived from the "Polyester Picks" experiment I did during part of the 2002 NBA regular season. The idea goes something like this -- you find out who the squares like then bet the other side. Sportsbooks and sportsbars are crammed with losing bettors. Imagine the money you could make just by manipulating that ignorance and turning it into a tangible bet on the opposite side. It's a sort of sports betting alchemy, turning "fools' gold" into the real thing.
Before I tell you about The Goldman Experiment, first let me explain how I came to appreciate the notion that the public is wrong most of the time (not only about sports, but just about everything -- but that's another topic). The following story is a re-post from March of this year:
WHICH TEAM do you think the SQUARES will be betting on tonight? You know, the guy standing there in the Vegas sportsbook with a linesheet in one hand, and a watered-down beer in the other. You've all seen the guy I'm talking about. The loser. You know, the guy with the crack of his ass showing. He's looking up at the big board and "capping" the games simply by glancing up at the odds. The guy with one striped sock and a dark blue sock and a pair of tattered polyester shorts with the 46-inch waist. Who's that guy gonna be betting on tonight? You wanna' be on the same side as THAT guy?
The moral: Bet against the squares!
This idea came about from a simple notion?..that the average "Joe" cannot win betting sports. You know it. And, I know it. The average guy is going to lose his ass in the long run. The more money he bets, the more money he loses. It's that simple. Not just because the house vig take its cut. Sure, that's part of it. But, it goes deeper than that. It's because, the average guy simply doesn't know how to handicap games and what to look for. Don't get me wrong, we are all learning in this business. Everyone deserves a chance to improve and learn. But this guy is different. He listens to the hype on ESPN and reads what the dopey sportswriters say, but he knows nothing about handicapping. That's the guy we want to be on the OPPOSITE side of -- EVERY SINGLE GAME, if possible. Anyone out there disagree with this point of view?
Let me tell you a little story. It's 100 percent true, although it's kind of embarrassing for me to admit a few things publicly. Here it goes:
I was about 22-years-old at the time. Still in college. I decided to take a trip to Las Vegas with a friend. I had read plenty of books about gambling (most were primers on gambling -- they just covered the basics) and was ahead of the curve. But the trouble was -- I didn't have the depth of knowledge and experience to be able to gamble wisely. Meaning no disrespect to the younger readers, most 22-year-olds don't have enough knowledge or experience to gamble wisely. It's just a fact. Maybe you need to go broke a few times before you learn what it's all about. I don't know.
Anyway, I went to Vegas on a package deal -- airfare, hotel, and everything was included for one price. I brought about $300 in cash with me (remember, I was a college student and this was 1984 -- so $300 was enough money for a good time in Las Vegas back in those days). Well, you can never have ENOUGH money in Las Vegas with all its vices and temptations. The very first night, my friend got in a poker game at the Flamingo. Wouldn't you know it. He lost his ENTIRE bankroll in an all-night poker game. So, he was broke before his trip was barely started. With four days still to go!
I was just starting to learn to count cards at the time, using a 1-5 spread. Id' bet the $2 minimum up to a $10 max -- totally amateurish stuff. I did most of my playing at the old Castaways -- which was torn down about ten years ago to make way for the Mirage. Of course, it wasn't as easy counting cards in the casino as Jerry Patterson made it seem in the book (that was the first count I learned). Somehow, reading about the count was much easier back at home laying by the swimming pool with a book in my hand than sitting inside the casino with all the drinks, and bright lights, and gambling activity all around me. Not surprisingly, I blitzed through my bankroll by the end of the second day and was broke myself about halfway through the trip.
Here's where my story gets REALLY interesting. Hold on folks, the guy in the polyester pants is coming up soon.
If you want to know what the definition of HELL really is, and I do mean total HELL -- trying being broke for a few days in Las Vegas. I mean, that's HELL. Add a non-refundable plane ticket and mark it 48 hours forward and you aren't just talking about hell, that's a Goddamned torture chamber! Both of us broke, with two days to go -- I remember my friend asking me that poignant question that I could not answer. "What are we going to do for the next two days -- just sit here with our XXXX in our hands?"
How do you answer a question like that? Join a labor pool? Sell blood? Rob a convenience store?
I went back to the hotel room, and wrestled a bunch of loose change out of my suitcase. I somehow came up with about $3 in coins. I know, really pitiful. Like I said, this is pretty embarrassing stuff. Wait, it gets worse. I took that $3 and played a hand of blackjack for $2 and won. Now, I was up to $5. My friend was into the horses, so we went over to the Barbary Coast sportsbook and bet on a race. The horse showed, or placed (I can't remember which) but I do remember that we got back something like $12 in cash. Next, we made a bet on one of the early baseball games. We watched our action for like three hours and collected the ticket. Incredibly, we had turned the $3 into something like $30. Damn, I felt rich.
Let me tell you something. Thirty dollars is a helluva' lot of money when your broke. I mean, it's like a life raft in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. On $30 -- you can eat a couple of meals, bet on a few games, even play a few dollars at a blackjack table. Any of you who have ever been broke inside a casino before will understand what exactly I'm talking about.
And this is where the guy with the polyester pants enters the picture. My friend and I walked across the street to Ballys (I forgot if it was the MGM or Ballys at the time, but the sportsbook was right there inside the entrance off of Flamingo Road). We had $30 total in cash. That's it. We went up to the board and started looking at the late ball games. San Diego was playing, so were the Giants, and there was a game at California. I forgot exactly why we liked the Angels that night, but we were going to bet half of our bankroll on the California Angels who were playing against the Texas Rangers. My friend and I were talking about the game, debating about how much to play and making sure the Angels were really the best bet. And that's when we met the man in the polyester shorts.
Imagine -- a guy who hadn't shaven in a couple of days. Lamb chop, ham hock sideburns. He had one sock down on his ankle, and the other sock was up to his knee (I think it was an athletic sock, but don't hold me to that). He had on one of those pair of softball pants that jocks used to wear back about 20 years ago. Ugly as sin. 100 percent polyester. Trouble was -- this guy was nearing 60 and must have had like a 46 waist. I can't remember if he was wearing a white belt or not, but would anyone be surprised? Closest example I can give you is -- he looked like "Paulie" in the Rocky movies (Burt Young, I think is the actor's name).
So here we are, standing at the Bally's sportsbook at like 7:25 on a Tuesday night getting ready to make one of the most important bets of our lives. We are talking EAT versus DON'T EAT money. Mr. Polyester Pants overhears the conversation and is seemed offended that we are actually contemplating a bet on the Angles. The man interrupts the conversation and then goes on to explain that the Rangers are THE PLAY in this game and that if we want the Angles, he'll book our action right there and we'll just sit there together and watch the game. Why let the sportsbook take a cut? He sure sounded sure of himself.
My friend and I looked at each other like a couple of deer caught in the headlights of a Mack truck. "Well, he lives in Vegas, so he must know what he's talking about, right?"
http://www.madjacksports.com/nolan.htm
THE GOLDMAN EXPERIMENT
I've been wanting to go public with this new betting system for almost two years. Now, I have decided to share it with readers. The idea I am about to tell you about is derived from the "Polyester Picks" experiment I did during part of the 2002 NBA regular season. The idea goes something like this -- you find out who the squares like then bet the other side. Sportsbooks and sportsbars are crammed with losing bettors. Imagine the money you could make just by manipulating that ignorance and turning it into a tangible bet on the opposite side. It's a sort of sports betting alchemy, turning "fools' gold" into the real thing.
Before I tell you about The Goldman Experiment, first let me explain how I came to appreciate the notion that the public is wrong most of the time (not only about sports, but just about everything -- but that's another topic). The following story is a re-post from March of this year:
WHICH TEAM do you think the SQUARES will be betting on tonight? You know, the guy standing there in the Vegas sportsbook with a linesheet in one hand, and a watered-down beer in the other. You've all seen the guy I'm talking about. The loser. You know, the guy with the crack of his ass showing. He's looking up at the big board and "capping" the games simply by glancing up at the odds. The guy with one striped sock and a dark blue sock and a pair of tattered polyester shorts with the 46-inch waist. Who's that guy gonna be betting on tonight? You wanna' be on the same side as THAT guy?
The moral: Bet against the squares!
This idea came about from a simple notion?..that the average "Joe" cannot win betting sports. You know it. And, I know it. The average guy is going to lose his ass in the long run. The more money he bets, the more money he loses. It's that simple. Not just because the house vig take its cut. Sure, that's part of it. But, it goes deeper than that. It's because, the average guy simply doesn't know how to handicap games and what to look for. Don't get me wrong, we are all learning in this business. Everyone deserves a chance to improve and learn. But this guy is different. He listens to the hype on ESPN and reads what the dopey sportswriters say, but he knows nothing about handicapping. That's the guy we want to be on the OPPOSITE side of -- EVERY SINGLE GAME, if possible. Anyone out there disagree with this point of view?
Let me tell you a little story. It's 100 percent true, although it's kind of embarrassing for me to admit a few things publicly. Here it goes:
I was about 22-years-old at the time. Still in college. I decided to take a trip to Las Vegas with a friend. I had read plenty of books about gambling (most were primers on gambling -- they just covered the basics) and was ahead of the curve. But the trouble was -- I didn't have the depth of knowledge and experience to be able to gamble wisely. Meaning no disrespect to the younger readers, most 22-year-olds don't have enough knowledge or experience to gamble wisely. It's just a fact. Maybe you need to go broke a few times before you learn what it's all about. I don't know.
Anyway, I went to Vegas on a package deal -- airfare, hotel, and everything was included for one price. I brought about $300 in cash with me (remember, I was a college student and this was 1984 -- so $300 was enough money for a good time in Las Vegas back in those days). Well, you can never have ENOUGH money in Las Vegas with all its vices and temptations. The very first night, my friend got in a poker game at the Flamingo. Wouldn't you know it. He lost his ENTIRE bankroll in an all-night poker game. So, he was broke before his trip was barely started. With four days still to go!
I was just starting to learn to count cards at the time, using a 1-5 spread. Id' bet the $2 minimum up to a $10 max -- totally amateurish stuff. I did most of my playing at the old Castaways -- which was torn down about ten years ago to make way for the Mirage. Of course, it wasn't as easy counting cards in the casino as Jerry Patterson made it seem in the book (that was the first count I learned). Somehow, reading about the count was much easier back at home laying by the swimming pool with a book in my hand than sitting inside the casino with all the drinks, and bright lights, and gambling activity all around me. Not surprisingly, I blitzed through my bankroll by the end of the second day and was broke myself about halfway through the trip.
Here's where my story gets REALLY interesting. Hold on folks, the guy in the polyester pants is coming up soon.
If you want to know what the definition of HELL really is, and I do mean total HELL -- trying being broke for a few days in Las Vegas. I mean, that's HELL. Add a non-refundable plane ticket and mark it 48 hours forward and you aren't just talking about hell, that's a Goddamned torture chamber! Both of us broke, with two days to go -- I remember my friend asking me that poignant question that I could not answer. "What are we going to do for the next two days -- just sit here with our XXXX in our hands?"
How do you answer a question like that? Join a labor pool? Sell blood? Rob a convenience store?
I went back to the hotel room, and wrestled a bunch of loose change out of my suitcase. I somehow came up with about $3 in coins. I know, really pitiful. Like I said, this is pretty embarrassing stuff. Wait, it gets worse. I took that $3 and played a hand of blackjack for $2 and won. Now, I was up to $5. My friend was into the horses, so we went over to the Barbary Coast sportsbook and bet on a race. The horse showed, or placed (I can't remember which) but I do remember that we got back something like $12 in cash. Next, we made a bet on one of the early baseball games. We watched our action for like three hours and collected the ticket. Incredibly, we had turned the $3 into something like $30. Damn, I felt rich.
Let me tell you something. Thirty dollars is a helluva' lot of money when your broke. I mean, it's like a life raft in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. On $30 -- you can eat a couple of meals, bet on a few games, even play a few dollars at a blackjack table. Any of you who have ever been broke inside a casino before will understand what exactly I'm talking about.
And this is where the guy with the polyester pants enters the picture. My friend and I walked across the street to Ballys (I forgot if it was the MGM or Ballys at the time, but the sportsbook was right there inside the entrance off of Flamingo Road). We had $30 total in cash. That's it. We went up to the board and started looking at the late ball games. San Diego was playing, so were the Giants, and there was a game at California. I forgot exactly why we liked the Angels that night, but we were going to bet half of our bankroll on the California Angels who were playing against the Texas Rangers. My friend and I were talking about the game, debating about how much to play and making sure the Angels were really the best bet. And that's when we met the man in the polyester shorts.
Imagine -- a guy who hadn't shaven in a couple of days. Lamb chop, ham hock sideburns. He had one sock down on his ankle, and the other sock was up to his knee (I think it was an athletic sock, but don't hold me to that). He had on one of those pair of softball pants that jocks used to wear back about 20 years ago. Ugly as sin. 100 percent polyester. Trouble was -- this guy was nearing 60 and must have had like a 46 waist. I can't remember if he was wearing a white belt or not, but would anyone be surprised? Closest example I can give you is -- he looked like "Paulie" in the Rocky movies (Burt Young, I think is the actor's name).
So here we are, standing at the Bally's sportsbook at like 7:25 on a Tuesday night getting ready to make one of the most important bets of our lives. We are talking EAT versus DON'T EAT money. Mr. Polyester Pants overhears the conversation and is seemed offended that we are actually contemplating a bet on the Angles. The man interrupts the conversation and then goes on to explain that the Rangers are THE PLAY in this game and that if we want the Angles, he'll book our action right there and we'll just sit there together and watch the game. Why let the sportsbook take a cut? He sure sounded sure of himself.
My friend and I looked at each other like a couple of deer caught in the headlights of a Mack truck. "Well, he lives in Vegas, so he must know what he's talking about, right?"
