Nothing But Iron: What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas September 17, 2007 By Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. Wisconsin’s victory over the Running Rebels wasn’t a royal flush, but it wasn’t a hand full of bank account overdrafts either. A win is a win. A road win is a win. A dramatic, come-from-behind road win, shared with friends and family, is a far better return on your entertainment dollar than any Vegas betting game. Never mind that it should have been easier. Besides, I thought we had an agreement, what happens in Sam Boyd Stadium, stays in Sam Boyd Stadium. On the way back from the game my nephew asked me if I thought the Badgers deserved to be No. 5 (soon No. 7, then No. 9). "Absolutely," I said, answering the question that he was not really asking. In the present context, which is the context of a system that assigns rankings by majority opinion, Wisconsin’s No. 5 is at least as appropriate and sensible as Michigan’s pre-season No. 5, South Florida’s No. nothing or Florida’s National Championship of last season. In other words, it strikes me as perfectly reasonable, in a system powered by subjective fuel, to have an opinion that my team is worthy of the ranking it has been given. What my nephew probably meant was whether I thought Wisconsin was the 5th best team in the country. The short answer is that I will never know. I want to know, but it is not permitted. The long answer is that I can image there are a dozen or more teams in the nation that could have come into SBS and dominated the Rebels into early, utter submission. That part of the reply requires certain assumptions about UNLV that cannot be verified on two game’s performance, namely that the Rebels are not very good. It is a conclusion I cannot make by mere observation. What I saw Saturday evening was a decent team. Critics--mine and Wisconsin’s--will argue that the Badgers made UNLV look good. I understand that, but relative performance is part of the fabric of any game and it is surely more difficult than we admit for the average fan to distinguish between one team’s failure and another’s success. We are kidding ourselves if we really believe we are not average fans. Sure Wisconsin had its share of mistakes, but I’ll bet that Reb fans were impressed not by UW’s ineptitude, but by how well their own team played. The objective part of me saw a spread offense was run with precision, a mobile quarterback whose passes were sharp, and a fast, hard-hitting defense with no shortage of enthusiasm. You could do worse than beat an opponent like that in a climate that has no business supporting human life. But how, you ask, can the Badgers possibly run the table if they can barely beat UNLV? Who knows? Maybe they can’t run the table. Maybe they will run the table and end up playing in the Who Gives a Shit? Bowl™ on December 31. Maybe they aren’t really that good. Maybe that’s the wrong question. Maybe instead of asking questions we should just enjoy the fact that Wisconsin is 1-0 for a second straight week. Of course that perspective managed to escape me for much of the game. I fell into the trap of ill-conceived expectations early. It started in the van on the way to the game, when I asked the seven family members joining me if anyone minded leaving early if the game was a blow out. We had a two-hour ride back to our hotel in Laughlin and a four hour drive back to Phoenix early the next morning, so I thought it made sense to leave early, if that was an option—yeah, like it wouldn’t be. I proceeded to be disappointed and frustrated to the point of questioning the creativity of the play calling, which, as fan behavior goes is about as becoming as a partially sober, nicotine-stained casino junkie bellied up to a slot machine. Finally, I came to my senses, forgot about the second-round of last spring’s basketball tournament, and the far-reaching-but-not-really implications of losing or almost losing to the Rebels, and cheered my ass off. Other perceptions: 1) There was a contest at halftime to guess the on-field temperature. I guessed 88 degrees. I was only off by 21. Yes, 109 degrees. Suddenly I thought back to sweltering summer full-pads practices in temperatures far more moderate than these and gained a new respect for what the Badgers were trying to do, and a new respect for what it had not been able to do, like catch passes. 2) I had been calling for the naked bootleg since the second quarter, and I said it enough that my son and my nephew turned and gave me due credit when it worked. What I didn’t tell them is that the genius of the play was saving it until that crucial, game-saving moment when it would have the most impact. Let’s keep that to ourselves, O.K.? 3) UNLV had great fans. Not as many as we had, but the ones that were there really seemed to care. That surprised me. 4) The spread offense is ideal for mismatched teams because it allows the team of lesser depth to isolate its superior players. Said another way, if 8 of Wisconsin’s players are better than 8 of UNLV’s, the spread is a great way for UNLV to take advantage of its 3 superior athletes. 4) I wonder how long Bielema will stick with his current special teams coordinator? Game day was also son Patrick’s 17th birthday. I had occasional paternal pangs of guilt about taking him out of school Friday, but suppressed that with an emphasis on the importance of family. Had the Badgers lost, it would still have been worth it to share the event and the otherwise trivial activities that surrounded it, with people we should see a lot more often than our lack of physical proximity allows. Even the van trips were enjoyable. The realization that your kid is entering his final year of childhood is both exciting and sobering. My apologies to any readers who were inconvenienced by my failure to publish this if-you-go public service announcement in the last column: Cabs to Sam Boyd Stadium are one way only. Do not go there without guaranteed return transportation, unless you intend to become a Nevada resident. I was told of this phenomenon by my brothers who got stuck there the last time Wisconsin played UNLV. Sure enough, as we drove away (in our large van) last Saturday night there were hundreds of fans begging for rides back to their hotels. Not a great way to treat tourists, but the mechanism is predictable. Cab drivers make more money carrying multiple fares on short trips near the strip. They can’t pick or choose which customers to pick up at the hotels, but they can choose not to be anywhere near the stadium after the game. My brothers lucked out three years ago; for big bucks they were able to cram into an overfilled limo for a ride back. Sorry for not telling you sooner. You can yell at me when you get back to Wisconsin. Brother Bruce coached me in video poker. He told me it is the only machine-based game (slot machines are a close cousin of armed robbery, pun accepted) with odds reasonable enough to make it worthwhile. He told me that some people make a living off of video poker. After dinner Friday night I set out to apply these new found strategies. I spent part of the evening playing, and part watching Bruce and my mom and step dad play on nearby machines. Mom and Ken had at least six four-of-a-kinds (biggest payout short of a royal flush) between them. Bruce had two. I blew through 75 bucks in about an hour with nothing better than a flush. I concluded that you can apply a universe of math and science to gambling, but unless you have luck, you might as well use your gambling money for toilet paper. I concluded that it is a good thing that some people make a living off taking care of sick people. In the great spirit of money managers and mutual funds, it would have been better to divide my money between Mom, Bruce and Ken, then go somewhere really far away, like Peru, and then come back and see how I did. Reinforcing this concept is the highlight of my video poker career: drawing a flush on the deal and then accidentally hitting the deal/draw button before the hold buttons. That made my flush go away, along with the money I thought I had won. It was replaced by a multicolored hand of 2, 5, 9, Queen and 10, which wins you the opportunity to feed more money into the machine. This was most amusing to my coach, who showed his amusement by laughing at me. You are probably wondering how it is that an experienced anesthesiologist could press the wrong button on a machine. All I can say is what we say in the O.R., "Oops." Bruce also engaged in sports betting. Over the past few years he has done pretty well at it. Last outing he hit 70% of his dozen or so picks, which means he is either lying (he says that most who claim 70% success are liars), or he should have bought my dinner. He spent 40 hours (also a possible lie) handicapping the teams he intended to bet on and had a notebook full of rationale for his bets. I was intrigued by two of those, which seemed to make a lot of sense: Michigan to beat Oregon (and cover) and the over on the UW-UNLV, which was 48. I almost bet those, but the little voice, and perhaps the risk of smoke inhalation, kept me from returning to the casino to do so, which was good because I saved a little money. I would have ended with that jab, but the plot suddenly thickened the day after we got home. I will let Bruce tell the rest of the story in the article that accompanies this one. See: Royal Rush . I defer to other sources for commentary on the Citadel, except to recommend that the Badgers consider losing a game so they can move up in the polls again. Because of the day job I missed this game and much, but not all of Green Bay’s encouraging road win over the Giants. It was a blessing in disguise because now I have an excuse for skipping a week’s worth of commentary. It feels good to be caught up. ______________ Nothing But Iron is an amateur sports column. This issue is dedicated to son Patrick, who is almost not a kid anymore, and to son Connor, who, in his second and final game of his much-anticipated football season, broke his hand. Though disappointed, the author is thankful that this is an injury from which his kid can heal and thankful for two-games worth of thrills to remember this foreshortened season by. ©2007 DrTM Enterprises. All rights reserved.