There are some things you never quite get used to in life. The sting of a bad beat is one of them.

Sure, the manner in which you react to them improves. I used to lose sleep and lick my wounds for a couple of days, and maybe even second-guess myself before firing that next bet.
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Those days are over, as a quicker recovery time is something that comes with experience, and the knowledge of knowing if you are around long enough, you’re going to do your share of suffering.

But there’s still nothing quite like that uppercut-to-the-gut sensation when the gambling gods seemingly giveth, then brutally taketh away.

I’ve long ago learned to take nothing for granted. I don’t start counting the cash before the final buzzer, nor do I toss my ticket in the paper shredder at halftime if my team is getting hammered.

Some of my friends are either more optimistic or just plain naïve. I have a few who will text me as they sweat a game on my behalf. I’ve got one buddy who will text me, “Nice call … cha-ching!” when my 7-point football favorite is up 10 with a minute left and the other team is driving.

The support is nice and all, but I’ll always reply with, “Thanks, but wait … not over yet,” or “I’m holding out to celebrate till the clock hits zero.”

So, despite my vast experience with near-miss heartache and a steely façade that fends off the damage, I still find myself wondering how Duke covered 6 against Kansas last week to kill my first big college basketball bet of the season.

I tried to rationalize it by telling myself, “That’s why I never fade Duke,” but it’s hardly comforting.

My simplified analysis was that I thought Kansas might have slightly better overall talent and, at the very least, the Jayhawks appeared to be a little further along than Duke.

So it was with much delight last Wednesday night, as I dined in a deli near the sportsbook, and watched the spread grow from Duke -4.5 to 6 in less than an hour. I could literally see the public bettors hammering Duke, and I concluded Kansas was a near-automatic take at +6 in what should have been a pick’em as far as I was concerned.

Now that it’s been a week, the game is something of a blur. I felt like I had the right side the whole way, though I admittedly lamented Kansas’ inability to pull away with it when they had several opportunities to do so.

Although I still didn’t celebrate early, I’ll concede I was feeling pretty good with Kansas up one with 1 minute left. Still wasn’t too worried when Duke was up one with 30 seconds left. Heck, at that point, I know I can still fade two Kansas misses combined with a pair of made free throws.

How Duke won by 7 and took my cash by one point is still beyond me. The initial impact has faded, but this one came with a delayed onset. At first, I just sort of shrugged and tossed the ticket on my coffee table.

Then, I got that feeling you had when your buddy gave you a Charley Horse in the 8th grade

“Damn, that sort of hurts.”

You try to disguise the pain, then realize your thigh is turning black and blue.

“Damn, that really hurts!”

Then, it gets to where you can no longer hide your anguish, when you attempt to stand and realize you can’t walk.

“Damn, THAT REALLY F&%^$#@ HURTS!”

At which point, you have no other choice than to admit you are in pain.

I tried to sleep this one off, but it lingered a little longer than most. The good news is, I got out of bed in time on Thanksgiving morning to book another loser on the Detroit Lions +7 against the Green Bay Packers.

I considered this progress in some sort of backward way. At least the pain of a no-doubt loser doesn’t last quite as long as the torture of a bad beat.