Talking Bout My Degeneration
Back in my younger days, my friend Norman and I would lay NFL bets with a couple bookies named Rocky and Al. Sundays became days of extreme addiction-like focus, as games in which we once had no vested interest were turned into three hours of dopamine-pumping, enthralling action where every play could mean the difference between winning and losing. We were addicted. But we were only addicted for a few hours on a few Sundays during football season. Our addiction was also limited by the barriers set up by sports leagues and states that frowned upon sports gambling. Not to mention the fact that we were justifiably afraid of getting in too deep with dudes named Rocky and Al. Because of these factors, it wasn’t that hard for us to ultimately punt, pass, and kick the sports betting habit. But what if Rocky and Al launched an app that combined all the most powerful, addicting qualities of iPhones, social media, and gambling? What if what happens in Vegas no longer stayed there, but could be carried around in our pockets? What if the once social aspects (and guardrails) of gambling were replaced by the unique isolation that emerges in the secretive relationship of a human and their phone? What if the leagues that once went to great lengths to block gambling now promoted it relentlessly? What if instead of getting our fix over the course of a few Fall Sundays, Norman and I could bet on anything, anytime — and such behavior was not only accepted by the mainstream, but backed by billions in marketing piped through the mouths of some of our most well-known celebrities? Norman and I would have gone on tilt (a term that describes “the emotional distress that causes a gambler to make unwise decisions”), but not just in terms of our bets, we would have gone on tilt in life.
Sure, you’re thinking, but if you and Norman went to the effort of risking life and limb to bet with some dudes named Rocky and Al, you’re automatically in the category of those susceptible to gambling abuse. OK, so let’s consider the case of the excellent journalist McKay Coppins. Coppins isn’t like Norman and me. He isn’t particularly interested in sports. When it comes to betting, he didn’t know a parlay from a point spread. He isn’t a person generally attracted to vice at all. “And as a practicing Mormon, [he is] prohibited from indulging in games of chance.” Think Coppins would have a better chance to resist the temptation of the new gambling landscape? Don’t bet on it. The editors at The Atlantic (Gift Article) fronted Coppins $10K to explore “the sports-betting industry—its explosive growth, its sudden cultural ubiquity, and what it’s doing to America … [where] practically overnight, we took an ancient vice—long regarded as soul-rotting and civilizationally ruinous—put it on everyone’s phone, and made it as normal and frictionless as checking the weather. What could possibly go wrong?” My year as a degenerate gambler. “The prediction markets represent the logical end point of the sports-betting explosion: Everything in American life—politics and culture, art and war—becomes a Las Vegas table game, tantalizing in its promise of profit, rigged against regular people, destined to demoralize and crush those who play.” (I tried to bet the over on every concern we have about the damage that will be done by these trends, but when I dialed the number, Rocky and Al’s line was no longer in service.)
+ As troubling as the Vegasization of America is for the general population, it’s much worse for college-aged males. I covered this topic last week. The House always wins. The same is not true for the Frat House. Class Dismissed.
