Safe Bet

Today’s episode of Saving Us From Ourselves pertains to the narrow space between harmless diversion and full-on perdition. Gambling, long a fringe member of the American societal family, has a seat at the table and run of the house. Sports gambling, in particular, now raids the fridge and rifles through closets. 

 

Since the Supreme Court’s 2018 decision struck down Federal anti-sports gambling law, 38 states have legalized sports gambling, as well as Washington D.C., and Puerto Rico (motto: “Where ‘teaser’ doesn’t just refer to potential statehood”). Sports betting revenue in the U.S. climbed from $430 million in 2018 to $7.56 billion in 2022, according to the website Statistica. The American Gaming Association estimated that from January to November 2023, our fellow citizens wagered $106 billion on sports. 

There’s a swell argument that if people are going to gamble, better it be brought into the open so that it may be monitored and regulated (and taxed), rather than left to conduct shadowy transactions with A Guy Your Cousin Knows. However, mirroring the meteoric rise are concerns and casualties along the way. 

The National Council on Problem Gambling estimates that seven million Americans suffer from gambling addiction. The annual social cost of problem gambling is approximately $7 billion, the NCPG estimates, encompassing healthcare spending, job loss, bankruptcy and gambling-related criminal justice measures. For example, New Jersey’s gambling helpline saw calls more than double between 2019 and 2023, from just over 1,000 to more than 2,300. Connecticut’s gambling helpline saw a 91-percent increase in calls from 2021 to 2022. 

As many have pointed out, gambling simply “looked” different not so long ago. Diana Goode, head of the Connecticut Council on Problem Gambling, said in a recent piece on NPR’s Marketplace, “In order to gamble, you had to put clothes on. You had to get up, you had to go out, and now you don’t.” 

Young folks are particularly susceptible to the lure of online gaming and the barrage of advertising. Keith Whyte, executive director of the NCPG, asked a room of forty 17-year-old boys in Virginia: how many have sports betting apps on their phones? Thirty-six raised their hands. More than one-third (36 percent) of those admitted to a problem gambling program in Pennsylvania in fiscal year 2022-23 were between the ages of 18 and 34, according to the Play Pennsylvania website. A fellow named Arnie Wexler, a one-time compulsive gambler, book author, and former executive director of the Council of Compulsive Gambling of New Jersey, said in a December piece in The Guardian, “We’re killing the youth of America. It’s gotten crazy. Nobody cares.” 

Wexler is a mite hyperbolic. Plenty of people care, and organizations abound to lend assistance. But the noise and lights and dopamine jolt often overwhelm the safe spaces. And if you point out that the lure of free money, along with cigarettes and booze and weed, are laid out in plain sight with low guardrails, you wouldn’t be wrong. There’s a libertarian streak within American society that reflexively chafes at the idea of a nanny state, that people should be able to bet the Ravens to cover or sink their money into cryptocurrency or to hotbox unfiltered Camels or tattoo the names of future ex-wives on their bodies. 

In other words, personal responsibility for decisions, good and bad. Freedom and all that. One caveat to that is, in a country of 330 million, even a miniscule percentage who behave irresponsibly can amount to hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people capable of wreaking outsized damage to themselves and society at large. Never mind the notion of taking care of the citizenry who aren’t wired for moderation, or the idea that those who provide the temptations bear at least some responsibility for outcomes, good and bad. 

Last month, a pair of Congressional bills – one in the House, one in the Senate – were introduced to address gambling’s effects. The Gambling addiction, Recovery, Investment and Treatment (GRIT) Act would set aside 50 percent of the revenue from the existing Federal sports excise tax (0.25 percent of the amount of any legal wager with a commercial sports book) for gambling addiction and treatment and research. That number ballooned from $38.7 million in fiscal year 2020 to $270 million in FY 2023 due to the sharp increase in gambling outlets and overall wagering. (side note: the excise tax dates back to the 1950s, as a tool for prosecuting illegal bookmaking operations). The Gaming Industry wants the tax repealed, arguing that it unfairly targets legal sports books and potentially pushes those who choose to gamble toward illegal avenues. Good luck with that. Lawmakers are as likely to introduce legislation in Pig Latin as to voluntarily shut off a revenue spigot. 

Legal folks have taken notice, as well. The Public Health Advocacy Institute at Northeastern University brought a class action suit in December against DraftKings in Massachusetts, alleging deceptive advertising practices. The PHAI, which also parried with the tobacco industry, claims that DraftKings’ offer of a $1,000 sign-up bonus comes with conditions and requirements that the sportsbook does not make clear. Expect similar stories going forward, as sports gambling broadens its reach and becomes more sophisticated, offering everything from future results (team makes the playoffs) to in-game micro-bets (first goal, next home run, number of Steph Curry 3-pointers). There will be winners and losers, fiscally and socially. Many will navigate the terrain responsibly, while for some it will become a managed obsession, as everyone seeks activities that match the excitement of laundry night.

Addiction

My name's rob, and I'm an addict.  

I can't quit cute animal videos. At first it was the occasional thing that people emailed me, or stuff I saw on Rex Chapman's Twitter feed, because I didn't spend much time on Facebook and I didn't have an Instagram account. Then, my kids went to college and I got the 'gram to keep up with them. And it all went to hell.

I watched one video from The Dodo, and then another. From there, it was a matter of time before the algorithm got me. Now they throw fuzzy creatures in my path wherever I go. Puppies bonding with ducks. Deer and cats frolicking. Pit bulls and kittens snuggling. Gimme all of it.

\As I thought about looking for a 12-step program (and where would I even go?), I learned that my addiction may not be a problem. In fact, according to researchers, cute animal videos may contribute to wellness. Science!

“Positive emotions have this adaptive ability to help us explore, think about the bigger picture and be creative,” says Acacia Parks, chief scientist at Happify Health. “When you experience positive emotion, it lets you do things you can’t do as well in a negative mood state.”

I'm not overdosing on cuddly cuteness. I'm flexing my adaptive ability! I'm avoiding a negative mood state! 

Maybe more of you should get addicted.

One to Grow On

I have a confession to make. 

My name is Rob, and I'm an addict. I didn't realize how deep my addiction was until today, but it hit me with full digital force, and I've got some self-reflection to do.

I got a new iPhone from work, and I set about early this morning to activate it in advance of a series of meetings that began at 8:30. I only got as far as the iCloud backup screen before things went south. I couldn't connect to my AppleID, likely because my kids' phones are connected to the same account, and they've somehow created some ungodly intermingling of devices and identities. Even after I reset the account and spent time online with Apple support, I was unable to complete the setup process.

This would've all been fine, except that I'd deactivated my old phone as a part of the process of activating the new one.

Facing a day without immediate gratification via Twitter, and texts, and G:TB, I kinda freaked out. My mood soured, my anger grew, I became irritable and short-tempered. (Contrary to general consensus, this is not my normal workplace persona.)

In all seriousness, I acted like someone in the throes of withdrawal. I spent the better part of the day distracted, unfocused, and annoyed. My mood was dark, and it's only improved now, two strong beers in.

I was finally able to activate my new phone when I returned home in the evening, but technology was not quite done with me.

As I prepared to take my daughter to a friend's house, the GPS system in the car wouldn't allow me to advance past the first screen when attempting to input the destination address. I almost punched the windshield.

Upon my return home, as I was washing dishes after dinner, I knocked the coffee grinder off of the counter, shattering it and rendering it useless. Like me, today.

Then, as I was disposing of a bag of silicon-based coolant that comes with the weekly portion from one of those fancy prepared food delivery services, I dropped it into the toilet, sending a shower of water and chemical particles half-way up my bathroom wall and all over my pants.

Fuck off, modernity. I need to find me a 12-step Luddite group. And sit in a dark place and think about what I've become.