There’s something disquieting about this blood-lust excitement over the prospect of betting $20 on your phone, even money, on whether Mitchell Trubisky is going to throw or hand off on the next snap, and if it’s a pass, whether you’d wager 5-1 odds that Allen Robinson will catch it.
There’s such a thing as having too much chocolate ice cream by being handed a half gallon of it every day. I fear America satisfying its gambling jones might be it. Of course I’m an older guy, 60, and I probably act out of caution more than a college senior would.