this past winter, I found myself enjoying a craft beer and bathing in the cerulean warmth of high-def TVs at Spanky’s Roadhouse, a University neighborhood haunt. The flat-screens were showing NBA games, an NHL matchup, and a college football conference championship. My drinking buddy struck up a conversation with the bartender and asked if the barkeep had “any skin” in the contest we were watching. The kid shook his head and then said, “Nah. I didn’t put money on any of these
