Norman Chad

I made a typographical error in my column last week: I meant to say that we need

A while ago – the exact year escapes me – I determined that someway somewhere in some manner or some fashion most of us in America had somehow lost our minds.

Yes, I am obsessed with TB12. Why wouldn’t I be? Who am I going to obsess over during this pandemic, Jay Cutler?

I got on the horn – that’s a late 19th-century expression for making a phone call – and contacted every single sports league and federation to see when they would return.

I lost my regular poker game at Hollywood Park Casino in Los Angeles when the world shut down. Degenerates gotta degenerate, though, so most of us now find ourselves on the World Wide Web to get our gamble on.

Nobody wants a pandemic, certainly not one that kills hundreds of thousands

Have you ever tried to reschedule an Olympic Games? Sure, many of us have postponed weddings – and there are at least two I should’ve canceled altogether – but those are much smaller affairs to manage. The Olympics? That’s got to be the biggest event in the world, even larger than a “Duck Dynasty” Easter egg hunt.

Money never sleeps, correct? Well, the sun never sets on the sports-betting empire either.