The Favorite Team Curse: Why I Lose Money on Teams I Know Best

I’ve followed Liverpool for fifteen years. Never missed a match. Know the squad inside out, understand the tactics, recognize patterns other fans miss. When I started betting, backing Liverpool seemed logical—who knows the team better than me?

Six months later, I’d lost €500 betting almost exclusively on Liverpool. Meanwhile, my casual bets on teams I barely followed? Those actually made money.

Here’s why knowing a team too well destroys your ability to bet on them profitably.

Nordic Bet covers Premier League extensively with competitive odds across 30+ sports. Their platform made Liverpool bets effortless—scroll to match, click odds, confirm stake. The easier it became to bet on my team, the more money I lost without questioning why.

The Excuse Machine in My Head

Liverpool’s defense looked shaky heading into a match against Manchester City. Three key defenders injured, makeshift backline facing the league’s best attack. The odds reflected reality—Liverpool at 3.8 to win.

I bet €50 on Liverpool anyway. My reasoning? “The team always shows up for big matches. They’ll compensate with intensity. Remember that time they beat City with half the squad injured?”

City won 4-1. Liverpool’s defense collapsed exactly like any neutral observer would’ve predicted.

That’s the curse—I couldn’t see Liverpool objectively. Every weakness had an excuse. Every concerning pattern had a counter-example from memory. I was analyzing with my heart pretending to use my head.

The False Confidence Problem

Knowing team history felt like an advantage. I’d watched 200+ Liverpool matches. I knew how they responded to pressure, which players stepped up in crucial moments, what tactical adjustments the manager preferred.

This knowledge created dangerous overconfidence. I thought I saw things bookmakers missed. Reality? Bookmakers have better data, better analysts, and zero emotional attachment. They priced Liverpool accurately. I just couldn’t accept it.

I bet on Liverpool against a relegation-threatened team they “always beat.” Ignored that Liverpool had lost three straight, key players were exhausted, and the opponent desperately needed points. Lost €40 when Liverpool drew 1-1.

My deep knowledge made me overweight favorable memories while dismissing contradictory evidence. Classic confirmation bias disguised as expertise.

The Odds Never Had Value

Liverpool played quality opposition weekly. Their odds typically ranged between 1.4 and 1.8 to win. For those unfamiliar with betting math, favorites at these prices need roughly 60-70% win rates just to break even after considering the bookmaker’s margin.

Liverpool won maybe 55-60% of matches. The odds had no value—I was paying a premium because bookmakers knew fans like me would bet regardless of price.

This parallels other gambling traps. Playing something like Dragon Link slot machine teaches similar lessons—flashy features and exciting bonuses attract players emotionally, but the actual mathematical return disappoints. Emotional appeal and genuine value rarely align.

The Breaking Point

Liverpool played a bottom-table team at Anfield. Should’ve been routine. I bet €100 at 1.3 odds—needed Liverpool to win just to profit €30.

Liverpool lost 1-0. That defeat cost more than €100. It shattered my illusion that knowing the team gave me an edge.

I’d ignored everything: Liverpool’s poor recent form, exhausted players after midweek European match, opponent’s desperation for survival points. None of it mattered because “Liverpool always beats weak teams at home.”

Except they didn’t. And I lost because I bet what I wanted to happen instead of what would likely happen.

What Changed When I Stopped

I banned myself from Liverpool bets for one month. Excruciating, but necessary.

That month I bet on teams I didn’t care about. Analyzed matchups without emotional investment. Just looked at form, injuries, motivation, tactical matchups, and whether odds offered value.

My win rate jumped from 43% to 61% immediately. The difference was shocking.

Without emotional attachment, I could see when a favorite was overpriced or an underdog had legitimate chances. I stopped betting because I wanted an outcome and started betting because analysis suggested an outcome.

The Payment Method Factor

Part of my problem was how easily I could bet. Using instant payment methods meant I could deposit and place Liverpool bets within seconds of deciding to—no friction, no cooling-off period. Sites like Apple Pay casinos exemplify this instant-access model. While convenient for casual play, that speed enables impulsive decisions when emotions run high. Adding even a small delay between decision and bet placement would’ve prevented several of my worst Liverpool punts.

How I Bet Now

I eventually allowed Liverpool bets again, but with strict rules. If I feel excited or confident about a Liverpool bet, I don’t place it. Excitement signals emotional attachment, not analytical confidence. I must find clear value—if Liverpool’s priced at 1.4 but my analysis suggests they should be 1.6, I pass regardless of wanting them to win.

Most importantly, I bet against Liverpool when analysis suggests they’ll lose. This proved I’d separated fandom from betting. The team doesn’t know I bet against them. They don’t care. My wallet does.

The Honest Truth

Deep team knowledge creates an illusion of betting advantage while actually making you the worst judge of their chances. The same attachment that makes you a passionate fan makes you a terrible bettor.

Your favorite team is the one team you should never bet on—or at minimum, the one requiring the strictest discipline and highest skepticism before placing money. That €500 lesson taught me that loving a team and betting smart on them are fundamentally incompatible mindsets.