Column: Pumping the Breaks on Sports Betting

Two weeks ago, Ippei Mizuhara, the former personal translator and confidant of Major League Baseball superstar Shohei Ohtani, was sentenced to 57 months in prison for charges of bank fraud in the unethical and unlawful access of Ohtani’s personal funds for his own uses.

The brunt of the stolen funds, around $16 million dollars, according to ESPN, were used by Mizuhara to gamble in an illegal betting ring. Mizuhara and his defense team provided testimony he had a longstanding gambling addiction — a fact taken into consideration by the U.S. Attorney’s Office, but later disregarded as the actual motive, according to The Athletic.

Mizuhara’s case is obviously unique regarding the people involved and amount of the money being moved, but he represents only a miniscule fraction of what’s happened in the U.S. alone.

A National Council on Problem Gambling report revealed “approximately five million Americans meet the criteria for compulsive gambling,” with only 8% of those individuals seeking help.

Further down in the report were two smaller findings related to betting in college populations, with both reaching the same conclusion — around 7% of students “meet the criteria for problem gambling.”

In my personal experience, I’ve noticed that since my 21st birthday last April, DraftKings can’t get enough of me — pledging only the best for my wallet with an influx of Instagram ads. 

Although I eventually caved and downloaded their app — it does make for good conversations about which players are the most valued during games — I’ve spent only a whopping $15 on sports-related betting activity, and that was strictly for a family-run Super Bowl Squares. I doubt that counts.

Despite my hard-earned grocery money only being dispersed between cousins, the recent Super Bowl was a massive success, and not just for the Philadelphia Eagles who captured their second Lombardi.

Multiple reports have appeared in the recent week indicating betting companies benefited, posting record revenues in several states following the event. 

My home state of New Jersey recorded around $168.7 million, according to Yahoo Sports — a 19% increase from last year.

This is a big change from just around seven years ago, when New Jersey had just won a Supreme Court case — Murphy v. NCAA — striking down a federal law which prevented in-state online gambling within New Jersey. After Gov. Phil Murphy officially made the first bet on June 11, 2018, companies quickly moved in to take advantage of possible partnerships.

Other states were slow to follow, with only 38 legalizing sports betting. That’s where playing along the borders got tricky.

While working at a summer camp in Vermont two years ago, a coworker and I took a practice canoeing trip into the New York wilderness. New York had legalized online sportsbooks, while Vermont was still a no-go zone.

In the middle of the woods, with only a few bars of service, my coworker received a notification from his betting app for a limited-time parlay offer. With a why-the-hell-not attitude, he cooked up — with only a few suggestions from me — a 10-plus leg bet that unfortunately never hit. 

It was fun in the moment, but in hindsight, it was slightly unnerving how quickly the app was able to offer access the moment we crossed into a different state.

My biggest gripe with sportsbooks now is their advertising, as companies permeate every form of media possible. Ads on television during games, previously mentioned social media ads, billboards around Chicago and even coasters in bars are pushing online gambling.

Chicago began to take measures in September by voting in favor of more stringent gambling guidelines, and a few lawmakers introduced a national bill to, among other compliances, limit the number of advertisements during live sporting events and ensure sportsbooks don’t take advantage of users’ repetitive habits. 

Loyola has also taken action to limit excessive gambling. A large cut-out of men’s basketball head coach Drew Valentine stands in Gentile Arena’s halls holding a sign reading, “Don’t bet on your future.”

Valentine has a point. Next time you consider putting $5 on a throwaway bet on your phone, remember to quantify — that’s one Portillo’s hot dog you’re giving up. Why take a risk on a possibility when you can get a guarantee?