Wonderful Wizard of Odds : Does Newport Beach’s Head Cluckster Take Himself Seriously? Don’t Bet on It

NEWPORT BEACH —  Larry Trusley isn’t sure that it’s advantageous to let the world know that he’s the Head Cluckster. For most other pertinent questions, though, the odds are that he’s got the odds figured out.

Trusley loved sports as a kid, but eye problems kept him from playing. Instead, he began keeping sports statistics, which he continues to do, eschewing his convenient computer to still do it all by hand. With his stats and some theories about their import, Trusley extrapolates which underdog sports teams make a good bet. He’s shared this information for the last four years in a tip sheet, titled Foul Tips, in which his cartoon characters (the Head Cluckster and Underdog) reveal his picks. He also uses his faxes and cartoons to convey sports in-jokes and lampoon sports personalities and salaries.

The Cluckster is a goofy chicken wearing shades, which Trusley himself often does, due to his light-sensitive eyes. The dog is a cartoon namesake of the his sons’ pet Shih Tzu named Underdog by one of them because the moniker sounded sort of like “underpants” to him.

Most of the subscribers to Trusley’s tip sheet--which he faxes nationwide an average of 20 times a year--don’t know that the Head Cluckster is a fit, mustachioed 45-year-old printing broker working out of the office room of his Newport condo. He prefers the anonymity, both because it enhances the fun of the faxes and because he doesn’t want to be overly associated with gambling.

Not many people would entrust their fortunes to a chicken in sunglasses, and that’s just the way Trusley hopes his subscribing “Clucksters” relate to his tip sheet.

Chatting in his home recently, he explained: “I’m basically telling people that this is for fun. Don’t take my selections and bet your rent money, your mortgage payment, your food money. I think I mostly have people who are fun bettors and can see the humor in it.

“I’m not a big bettor myself. I’ve got two little boys, and I don’t want to live that life. I don’t want to have to be sitting here watching the TV and going ‘Kids, we need this game.’ That’s not my lifestyle.”

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He rarely bets on his own tips (as one might expect, his faxes carry a disclaimer discouraging using his tips for any illegal gambling), though he says his picks came in comfortably over 60% of the time last year.

In the college bowls this past season, five of his six choices were winners. On Labor Day of last year, he picked the Buffalo Bills to win the Super Bowl. They didn’t win, but they did play in the bowl, which is coming pretty darn close for a prediction made nearly five months before the event.

Trusley makes no claim of being a jockstrap Nostradamus. He never plays hunches or trusts to luck--though he does admit to always wearing a tattered UNLV T-shirt when he has a bet riding--and he doesn’t believe there’s such a thing as a sure bet. “That mentality doesn’t work with sports. The ball can take a funny bounce. Anything can happen,” he said.

One thing in sports that did prove to be a surety, though, was Trusley’s own inability to whack a slow-pitch softball. In his hometown of Akron, Ohio, he says, “I’m still well-known back at Akron High as the only guy who could play slow-pitch softball all afternoon and strike out every time.”

Born cross-eyed and with other ocular problems that have grown worse with time, Trusley found one way to stay close to the sports he loved. “I would have the batting averages of all the Major League players updated on a day-to-day basis, by hand. I’d have sheets and sheets of it. My sister used to make fun of me because I’d spend the summer walking around with a shoe box full of statistics,” he recalled.

He still keeps his stats by hand, in part because he doesn’t trust the security of computer systems and because it is a link to his youth. He often starts working on them at 3:30 in the morning. He’s been accustomed to waking up at that time since his late teens, when he lived in a flophouse hotel--he keeps a photo of the place--while working full time at Firestone Tire and Rubber to concurrently put himself through college.

He says his job of the past 20 years, selling business printing, is becoming obsolete, and his eyes make it harder for him to always be making business calls. With two young sons to support--for whom he is now entering his fourth year of a custody battle--he’s been trying to create new jobs for himself. One, which he calls Fax-a-Form, is a self-service business stationary system he is hoping to place in mailbox-fax shops.

He’s always shared his sports picks with friends, and one, who is also his accountant, suggested he make a business of it. So he created Foul Tips, which he first marketed as a tip sheet in stores, then as a newsletter, before joining the fax age. With the help of a cartoonist friend in Georgia he introduced the Head Cluckster and Underdog cartoon characters to the fax (You can call (714) 759-FOUL for info on it). He has recently begun trying to sell comics syndicates on the idea of a Foul Tips sports tip/humor cartoon to run on newspaper sports pages.

“Foul Tips is a hobby, but it’s my first love. If I could make a living doing them, I’d do it in a minute,” he said.

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In his early-morning studies, he reads three newspapers daily and checks fresh info on his computer service, along with sifting through magazines and books on sports handicapping. During more humane hours, he sometimes will watch games on TV, but with the sound muted so he won’t be influenced by the commentators’ babble. When he spots a pattern or theory with potential, he watches it doggedly to see if it follows through.

His specialty is underdog teams. He says: “It makes you a bit of a loner. When an underdog comes through, it not only pays better but it feels good, better than just going with the crowd.”

He makes individual game recommendations, but his favorite picks are the futures, where you guess months in advance who will have winning seasons. So, on Labor Day he faxes out his choice for Super Bowl champ. Then on Super Bowl Sunday, he sends out his choice for the NBA victor. On Kentucky Derby Day, he announces his baseball futures (this year he pegged the Phillies and Astros in the National League, and the Angels and Tigers in the American, most of whom are faring none too poorly so far).

When picking his futures, he as a matter of course tosses out favorites and repeaters. If his stats suggest that a favored team or past season winner will indeed win, he just doesn’t make a pick. The return on such teams is so poor that it doesn’t justify laying out the bet, for which legitimate betting institutions typically tack on a 10% cut. Trusley also scouts out the odds all the Las Vegas casinos offer, because they can vary wildly on futures betting.

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His present pick in basketball, by the way, is the Phoenix Suns, which was quite the underdog with two games down when we spoke. Among his statistical reasons: Since the NBA has adopted its present series format, the teams with the home-team advantage have won 10 tourneys and lost one. Additionally, teams that have lost the first game at home have come back to win the trophy 58% of the time.

If you bet and win, Trusley pointed out that one Vegas casino was offering a $515 return for $100 wagered at that point in the series. If you lose, he said, you bet the same stats next year and wear them down.

He doesn’t feel there’s a liability associated with offering such tips, noting it’s no more than sports announcers routinely do when predicting game outcomes.

“If you turn on the TV any given Saturday or Sunday, all the channels have got guys standing there saying, ‘Today my best bet is blah blah blah.’ I’m very suspicious of anyone who can pick four or five games they like in a given weekend. There aren’t that many good betting propositions. If you keep track like I do of what some of these guys say, you’d realize it’s a joke. Some of them are terrible, picking way under 50%.

“I’m not promising anybody anything. If you look at my fax form, the Foul Tips guarantee is ‘fun.’ If you want to be a Cluckster, you bet for fun. I just heard on ESPN that sports betting has grown over 500% in the last decade, and it’s not just people who are desperate hanging around the liquor store waiting for something to happen. They said it’s mostly white-collar activity. I think that’s what the Clucksters are.”

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Trusley was surprised by the number of his subscribers who are women. “I think women are getting frustrated with the old man lying on the couch all day watching games, and for some reason the Head Cluckster thing appeals to them. They think it’s humorous.”

All that said, Trusley also admits to being disturbed by what the national increase in betting might portend for those who aren’t affluent enough to be plugged into a fax.

“There are people out there who are desperate, so their enjoyment is sitting in front of a TV all weekend pouring beer down their throats and betting these games. It’s really sad to think that’s what they live for. They don’t have anything more to look forward to than that? Meanwhile, the sports salaries are rocketing way up there. I spend 2 1/2 hours a week in my little boy’s kindergarten class, and that teacher should be making more than any of those athletes. It’s turned upside-down, and that’s one thing I try to poke fun at in the cartoons. “I don’t want to raise my boys as bettors. I’ve got a little boy who loves sports, and do I want him to know that given the chance I’d bet against him if he were a Major League baseball player?” he said with a dismissive laugh.