I remember sitting in my favorite armchair last October, the faint smell of stale popcorn lingering from last night's game, scrolling through preseason predictions on my tablet. The screen glowed with probabilities and point spreads, and I found myself muttering the very question that would become this article's title: "What are the 2019-20 NBA odds and how to make smart bets?" That moment of curiosity led me down a rabbit hole of statistical analysis and gut feelings that would define my entire betting season.
You see, I've always believed that understanding odds isn't just about numbers—it's about stories. The numbers tell you what might happen, but the stories tell you why it might happen. Take that preseason night when I was watching a rather unremarkable game between two teams that wouldn't make the playoffs. The broadcast mentioned how Chantava had the roughest scoring debut yet among all the reinforcements with just 10 points, while Gandler managed a 15-point, 12-reception double-double. Now, most casual bettors would see those numbers and think "well, Chantava's team is clearly in trouble." But here's what they're missing—the context. Chantava was playing against the league's best defensive team, while Gandler faced what we in the business call "paper defense"—looks good on stats sheets but folds under pressure.
That particular game taught me something crucial about smart betting. The Lakers were sitting at +600 to win the championship preseason, which felt like stealing candy from a baby now that we know how things turned out. But back then? People thought LeBron was getting too old, that Anthony Davis wouldn't mesh well with the system. Meanwhile, the Clippers at +350 seemed like the obvious choice with Kawhi Leonard fresh off his Toronto championship. See, this is where most bettors go wrong—they follow the hype trains instead of watching how players actually perform under specific circumstances.
I developed what I call the "context adjustment" method after that Chantava-Gandler observation. Before placing any bet, I'd ask: is this player's performance happening because they're genuinely good, or because their opponent is particularly bad in ways that match their strengths? For instance, when Gandler put up those 15 points against what appeared to be a decent defensive team, I dug deeper and found they were actually ranked 27th in defending against players with his exact shooting profile. That's the kind of edge that turns -110 bets into consistent winners.
The moneyline, spread, and over/under became my daily companions. I'd track how the Warriors' odds plummeted from +800 to +5000 after Curry's injury, how the Bucks maintained steady -120 to -140 favorites throughout most of the season. But the real magic happened when I combined these official odds with my own observations about player chemistry and situational performance. Like noticing how certain teams consistently beat the spread in back-to-back games while others collapsed. Or how the over hit 68% of the time when two run-and-gun teams faced each other on weekends.
My biggest win came from betting against public sentiment. Everyone was riding the Houston Rockets bandwagon in February when they had that 8-game winning streak, but I noticed they were winning games by narrow margins against depleted teams. The odds had them at -300 against Utah one night, but I took the +7.5 spread for Utah and watched them win outright. That single bet paid for my entire NBA League Pass subscription plus a rather nice bottle of whiskey.
What separates professional gamblers from recreational ones isn't just knowledge—it's emotional discipline. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people chase losses after a bad beat, or get overconfident after a lucky win. The night I lost $200 betting on the 76ers as -140 favorites against the Suns, I almost made the classic mistake of doubling down on the next game. Instead, I rewatched the game highlights and realized my error—I'd overvalued Embiid's recent scoring burst and undervalued how the Suns matched up against them defensively. That lesson saved me thousands over the season.
The beauty of NBA betting lies in its daily rhythm. Football gives you one chance per week to be right or wrong, but basketball? You can test theories, adjust strategies, and learn from mistakes almost every night. By March, I had developed what I called my "three-factor system"—current team form (last 10 games), specific matchup advantages, and injury reports. This system helped me predict that the Lakers would cover against the Clippers in that March 8th game even though everyone was on the Clippers -2.5 train.
Now looking back at the 2019-20 season, with all its unexpected twists from the pandemic shutdown to the bubble championship, I realize that the most valuable betting insight had nothing to do with statistics at all. It was about adaptability. The best bettors weren't those who stuck rigidly to their preseason predictions, but those who could adjust their thinking as new information emerged—much like how teams had to adjust to the bubble environment. My winning percentage improved from 54% to 62% once I started treating each week as a new season rather than clinging to preseason analysis.
So the next time you look at NBA odds, remember that you're not just betting on numbers—you're betting on stories, contexts, and human elements that no algorithm can fully capture. The difference between a smart bet and a lucky guess often comes down to whether you understand why the numbers say what they say, not just what they say. And sometimes, it pays to remember that even players like Chantava, who might have rough debuts, often turn out to be valuable contributors once they find their rhythm—a lesson that applies as much to betting as it does to basketball itself.