Sixteen games on a Saturday in July — the kind of slate where the slate wins as often as you do, and you learn to make peace with that. We finished 1-1 on totals, no moneylines graded, and walked away with a split that feels more honest than it does painful. One Under held cleanly. One got buried. The DFS card was a tale of two cities — and both cities happened to be named Los Angeles.
No dramatic arc to manufacture here. The model found two meaningful edges on totals, both went to the wire in their own way, and the evening reminded us what we already know: the edge is real over time, not over a single evening. One night at a time. You grade it honestly and move on.