As soon as the Detroit Lions led the San Francisco 49ers 24-7 in the NFC Championship game two weeks ago, a cash-out offer for $372.09 appeared on my FanDuel sportsbook app.
Not bad for my $20 parlay bet, which included the Lions beating the 49ers and three other wagers: the Kansas City Chiefs defeating the Baltimore Ravens and Travis Kelce and Jahmyr Gibbs scoring touchdowns.
All I needed was for the Lions to maintain their dominance over the 49ers and eke out a victory for me to win $524.73. At halftime, I enthusiastically texted two of my pals, asking whether I should cash out or let my bet ride. The difference was approximately $150, which would compensate for my losing season betting on NFL and college football this past season.
One friend advised me to let it go. The second friend advised me to accept the “cash guarantee.”
It was an easy option for the casual fan, transforming $20 into $372 in only a few fascinating, action-packed hours. What have I done? I let it go. My decision was motivated solely by greed, not by a love of the Lions or reservations about the 49ers.
As you are aware, the 49ers overcame what the Lions termed as a “epic failure” to win. I did not win a dime. I was crushed. And I am ashamed of myself.
“That’s why it’s called gambling,” my friend explained.
I’ve had a gambling spirit since I was a teenager, when I illegally bet on football games with a local bookie in my hometown of Gary, Indiana.
My state legalized sports betting in 2019, and I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. That day in early September felt like a holy day as I sped to the nearest casino in Michigan City. I stood in line behind none other than Chicago Bears legend Brian Urlacher to place a wager at the casino’s new FanDuel sportsbook.
I interviewed him for a newspaper story about his playing career and sports betting interests. We both bet on the Bears defeating the Green Bay Packers. We both lost. I have been losing bets ever since. There are hundreds of them, actually. I generally place tiny bets of $5 and $10, hoping that my parlays win enough to keep me even. This did not happen last season. One word sums it up: greed.
Every year, various sports books and online apps generate billions of dollars in revenue, with 175 million individuals in the United States having access to a legal, regulated betting alternative. Sports betting is now legal in nearly 40 states, with FanDuel, DraftKings, and ESPN Bet leading the way. It’s nearly impossible not to notice their web advertisements, television commercials, and “free bet” offers, which turn out to be anything but free. Believe me, I’ve tried them all.
Handing free bets to dumb and greedy gamblers like myself is analogous to handing free vaping devices to naive youngsters. Big Gambling is wonderfully — and diabolically — following in the footsteps of Big Tobacco’s marketing prowess, luring people with greed rather than nicotine.
To clarify, I am not a year-round gambler. I do not wager on cards, dice, roulette, or slot machines. I’m a sports gambler who solely enjoys (or is obsessed with) football. My betting season concludes on Super Bowl Sunday, which is not only the most important day of the NFL season, but also a national holiday in our country. It will be the apex of the sports betting season, with Americans expected to stake $1.3 billion on this game alone, up nearly 20% from last year, according to Legal Sports Report.
