Nostalgia plays with the odds. Any gambler who says he is immune is already a step behind. One foot in the past, the other in a puddle of self-deception. I have seen it all over: old fighter has got the name, the legend, the tape. Then people hold on to highlights as though they are purchasing time itself. The cash flows in the direction of the mob. And sure, memory hijacks logic, sentimentality blinds even the sharpest bettor. And sentiment is punished by the market. It has no tolerance of what-ifs, no affection of history. All it sees is today. Today's data, today's knees, today's sleep schedule.