The American national religion known as the National Football League celebrated its first of about 26 consecutive weeks in the spotlight last weekend, and I’m sure there was a record set. But it drew no cheers from fans in the Dawg Pound, members of the Cheeseheads, citizens of the Raider, Steeler, or Patriot Nation, or any of the equally rabid NFL fans across the country. I predict a new dollar record for prop and microbets (bets on possibilities not involving the game’s final score or outcome) will easily shatter the old one, as tracked by the American Gaming Association.
The silence from football fans will be punctuated by the faint riffling of casino bill counters (if any real bills are still wagered) and the constant electronic ding of digital transfers at online gambling companies. Their owners will be quiet and restrained as well, because an end-zone dance for nearly obscene profits (a sure-to-be surpassed $4.2 billion in 2021) would appear unseemly.
Since the federal law against sports betting was overturned in 2018, people can legally bet before the game on the coin toss, how many passing yards Tom Brady will gain, which team will score first, etc., etc. But technology improvements are always driven by the potential for profit. Now, people can bet on each play — a run or a pass, gaining or losing yards, a turnover or not — and win or lose instantly, with plenty of time to bet on the very next play.
Known as microbetting, new entrant BetMGM (competing with FanDuel and DraftKings) projects that 40-65% of its bets on football will come after the opening kickoff. And it’s not just football. Baseball is a great option because it also features a long break between plays (too long for many diehard, non-betting fans). Golf is also slow enough for in-round bets, and soccer has games all over the world almost 24-7, so there are plenty of opportunities for both informed and ignorant fans. Basketball and hockey aren’t as attractive because of the speed of the games.
One new company in the field, Betr, is clear about its appeal: “instant gratification.” Bettors don’t need to wait more than two hours to feel the adrenaline buzz or near nausea from a small or large wager. It happens right now, in real time, as quickly as scoring points for killing a monster or human in a video or VR game.
I guess this is where I lapse into old-man-mode, pining for the good old days when we imagined teams consisted of only people with a common goal that rose above monetary considerations. We created a vision of competitive purity.
Of course, this was a false, but comforting image. Money has always played an enormous role in professional and collegiate sports. Babe Ruth was sold by the Red Sox owner to the Yankees for $125,000 and loans to finance Broadway productions. The ubiquity of gambling and the effect of rich, stingy owners was portrayed perfectly in Eight Men Out, John Sayles’ film about the 1919 Black Sox scandal. In my lifetime, football greats Paul Hornung and Alex Karras, baseball’s gamblin’ Pete Rose, NBA referee Tim Donaghy, and many others have been lured into illegalities by the thrill of winning or losing a bet.
But I do believe widespread gambling on sports removes another of my treasured imaginations. Rooting for the same team with others who don’t have money riding on the outcome built a social connection. When people greeted each other with “How about those Sox?” (or Celts or Pats or Bruins), there was a connection that had nothing to do with the team covering the spread or landing on the right side of the over/under.
As much as I dislike basketball’s Kyrie Irving and his beyond-mercurial, team-killing presence in recent years, he was right in one important thought: Pro basketball is “entertainment” above all. I know I’ve invested more than a reasonable share of my life in playing and spectating sports. And I always marvel at the little kid in me that somehow feels better when a team I play on or one I’m rooting for wins rather than loses, since it makes no difference in the complicated and messy world we live in. But I cherish that feeling far beyond any I get from winning a bet on a game or a play in which I have no emotional investment. I am happy to remain an old-fashioned old man when it comes to sports betting and viewing.
Allen Woods is a freelance writer, author of the Revolutionary-era historical fiction novel “The Sword and Scabbard,” and Greenfield resident. His column appears regularly on a Saturday. Comments are welcome here or at awoods2846@gmail.com.