So far his short career has been pretty mediocre, indistinguishable from countless other players who quietly fell short of the expectations set before them. There’s an obvious poignancy to this, I think. The consensus was that Manaea was going to be a pretty great, and throughout his entire life he’d probably been even better than that. Every time he stepped on a field, all eyes would have fallen upon him. He was the single-combat hero of whatever school, town or city he came from. A transcendent athlete with limitless horizons unfurling before him, he’d likely never encountered an appetite his talent could not slake.

And then, once in the Big Leagues, he just wasn’t very good anymore. Other players were better. The axis of his life had shifted, and now he was the kid who couldn’t get anybody out, rather than the unblemished golden boy.

He’d fallen.

He was no longer the best.

He’d become like the rest of us.

Because of my involvement in Fantasy Baseball, I had watched a lot of his starts over the years. There’s something really intimate in that, to be so closely focused on another person. I saw parts of him he couldn’t keep hidden.  I saw how disappointment revealed itself on his face and then crept into his body and effected his game. I saw him battle that. I saw how he responded to incompetent teammates and punishing heat, I saw victories and uncertainties, and eventually I felt like I actually knew him, as if he had grown up just two doors over.

In spite of that, I fell out of the habit of watching his games, and then, about a month ago I happened upon one by chance late one night.  He was pitching against the Boston Red Sox, which is like saying he was pitching against a nightmare as their batters are so overwhelming  and intimidating.  It was maybe the 6^th inning, and Manaea looked good. Really good. In fact, he had not given up a single hit.

And from this point forward, as he pursued a no-hitter, the tension just ratcheted up. The camera was trained on him so tightly you could see beads of sweat forming and then rolling down his face. Everything became quiet and important, and each step closer to the no-hitter was a miracle in itself, and these miracles kept piling up until finally the game was over and the inconceivable had happened, not a single player had been able to get a hit off of Manaea.

His teammates, child-like and abundant, jumped all over him. Manaea, as happy as he was amazed, had a rollercoaster grin on his face. He was in paradise, everything bright and spinning and timeless. He had become the perfect version of himself.  And for those of us watching, it was as if something beautiful had been restored, and without even knowing it I had been pulled from the sofa, and alone and in the dark, I stood applauding something I had grown to care about becoming what it was always meant to be. 

1. Chances that an American athlete would break down a door in the Olympic Village 7-1.

I considered this bet to be easy money. We all know that athletes are competitive, and none more so than entitled, overfunded American ones who really like to get their party on. Combining this personality type with the decrepit state of Russian infrastructure and the rage associated with steroids and steroid-masking technologies, it was almost a guarantee that a door would be smashed in. I bet $700 on this, and when Johnny Quinn, an American bobsledder and ex NFL player, broke naked through his poorly functioning bathroom door in the athlete’s village, I was a winner.

Result= +$4900

2. Who would win the gold medal at men’s skeleton in Sochi?

I was on the Lisgar Collegiate Institute boys’ skeleton team in high school, and I can tell you participation in that sport is an insane death wish—you fly face-first down an ice cliff on a bladed Krazy Karpet using your toes to steer. (It should go without saying that high school was a VERY difficult time for me, a time made even more painful by the ceaseless bombardment of snowballs I endured whenever I took sliding to the track.) Gambling on this sport is like playing the lottery, as none of the martyr/athletes really has any influence on the outcome. That being said, it would have been wise to pick a Russian, as it’s common for officials to heat the track to make it slow and sluggish after the Russians have competed. However, the odds on handsome Spaniard Amber Mirambell (300-1!!) proved too enticing and I bet $500 on him for gold.

Result= – $500

3. Over/under for deaths in short-track speed skating (including relay): 7

I felt very compromised betting on this as I abhor the idea of rooting for anybody’s misfortune, but it seems clear that there would be way more than seven deaths in this sport. Honestly, I think there could be seven deaths in just one race. It’s Roller Derby with knives, practically a Slasher film. I bet $1300 on the over.

Result= – $1300

4. Olympic Sex Tape

Given that the matchmaking app Tinder was the breakout star of the Sochi games, it was speculated that it would be the first Olympics that featured a leaked sex tape.

Odds that a sex tape will surface: 3-1

Odds that the Russian men’s ice hockey team will be involved in the sex tape: 1-1

Odds that the Jamaican bobsled team will be in the sex tape: 9-1

Odds that the sex tape will be of a homosexual nature: 50-1

Odds that the sex tape will include any of the mascots from the Opening Ceremonies: 50-1

Odds that an ice-dance duo will be in the sex tape: 200-1

I bet $3000 that there will be a sex tape and placed $250 on each of the sub-options. Fingers crossed.

Result= – $4500

6. Odds that there will be a biathlon shooting accident involving a homosexual: 25-1

I could see that getting certified proof that the accident victim was an actual homosexual was going to be a bureaucratic nightmare, so I just avoided this bet altogether.

Result= Even

7. Odds that America, in the corporate form of Sports Illustrated, would attempt to upstage the Olympics by featuring Kate Upton in a bikini, floating about in a zero-gravity plane, as their feature story instead of, say, sports: 7-1

You simply cannot bet against America being America, and so I wagered $200 on the model in a zero gravity plane.

Result= + $1400.00

Total= Even