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With today’s essay from our contributor Bill Schaefer, we offer our readers something different.  Bill’s tale is one I think all our readers – sports fans that we are – will find of value. It’s a bit off our usual theme of baseball history; but, as we all know, gambling and fixing in baseball is nothing new…just think of the Black Sox scandal. 

Bill courageously opens up about his years as a compulsive sports gambler. He describes his 11-year odyssey which began with casual contact through co-workers with a bookie-runner named “Sugar,” and which, over time, developed into a full-fledged gambling compulsion. 

Bill gives us a first-hand look at the insidious world of sports gambling and clearly demonstrates how it affected his life. Over time he morphed into a person he barely recognized: a self-described “con man” who was willing to swindle just about anyone – family and friends alike – for money to stay in the game.

Hats off to Bill for this penning this revealing tell-all. It’s not easy to expose your inner failings for all the world to see, especially one that nearly ruined his life. Let’s just be thankful Bill went “cold turkey,” and overcame the demons that had captured him, in large measure thanks to prayer and to his wife, Susan. In doing so, he provides for us a valuable life lesson. As Bill makes very clear, addictions are no fun…and they are not easily overcome.

As we read about Bill’s painful journey, one which found him at times staring into the depths of the abyss, maybe we’ll all find a little more sympathy in our hearts for compulsive sports gamblers, including a certain former Reds player we all know very well. -Gary Livacari

Anatomy of a Sports Bettor:

The Compelling Story of Our Contributor, Bill Schaefer

Nine gamblers could not feed a single rooster –Yugoslav proverb

Whatever winnings you accrue betting games, you will give back…and then some  –Bill Schaefer

The urge to gamble is so universal and its practice so pleasurable, that I assume it must be evil –Heywood Hale Broun

Life was good in 1979. I was signed by International Creative Management (ICM) as an on-camera commercial spokesman and voice-over announcer. Plus, I had a nice gig as a drive time music host for WVNJ (620 AM) in Livingston, NJ. The station was an AFTRA shop, so one could afford coffee and gas. Easy commute by car, 30 minutes from my door to a serene bucolic setting. Deer would approach the station transmitter from nearby woods but would never get too close. Also, I had my own parking space.

“Pleasure Radio” was laid back and played beautiful music, with very little personality forthcoming from the music hosts. But I got lucky. Urged by my dad to do a little more with the show, I would occasionally throw in a quick tidbit or two about music, sports, movies–and give the weather report a little boot in the backside. The Program Director was a sports nut who liked what he heard, so he encouraged me to inject more personality into the show. This did not sit well with some of the older announcers but, what the heck, I was only following orders.

I got friendly with one of the engineers, who had a local bookie operation with a friend (who would visit the station from time to time). They knew I was really into sports in general and the Mets in particular. Joe (the engineer) and his buddy Jimmy approached me one day and said they could introduce me to “Sugar” who was a runner between the neighborhood books and the big guys in New York City. They thought I might want to make a few bucks on the side.

Sugar was a little rough around the edges but not without charm. He said we could start with a $1000 circle (credit line). I’d place the bets through Jimmy and Joe, who would relay them to the “House” in NYC. Basically, the “losers” would pay the “winners” each week. I’d meet with Jimmy every Thursday and either collect the cash I’d won or pay the money I lost. If I lost my limit of a thousand, no more bets could be placed that week. Of course, I could win any amount. Then Sugar laid out the parameters, which I readily accepted:

“We don’t want to break bones, we want the money. If you lose and can’t pay the full amount, we’ll work out a schedule to pay off the debt. Just show up every week at the designated time with the agreed-upon amount and there’s no problem. No interest. If you win, you’ll always get all the money every week. The only time there’s trouble is if you don’t show up and make me look bad. Recently, a kid owed me $2000 and thumbed his nose at me. I had to pay a guy $500 to bust him up a little. But we should be fine.”

I got into it pretty good in the fall of ’80 – mostly college and pro football, and pro basketball, a little baseball. The bets were called in based on how many increments of five were in the amount. For example, I’d give my code name and might say, “Hi, this is Saxon for Mason, please give me a 20 timer on the Packers minus 4.” That would be a $100 bet. A 40 timer, $200, and so on. I never bet less than $100. If you made a $500 bet and lost, the vigorish or vig would be 10%, so it would cost you $550. I gave my buddies 10 percent if I won.

The oddsmaker is smart but far from infallible. He has myriad games and lines to think about and he eyeballs them rapidly. People tend to remember when games finish very close to the pre-game line and marvel at how smart they are in Vegas. They don’t realize the vast majority of the lines are not close to the actual game outcome. However, attention must be paid.

Once the bettors start doing their thing, the betting line movement should be watched, but your own analysis is the most important factor. When a betting point spread moves significantly toward one team and away from the other, it’s usually because of an injury to a key player. The latter is important but overrated. Too often a scrub comes in and has the game of his life! It seemed to me the huge line move was accurate a little over 50% of the time. Very tricky – I usually stayed away from those games.

The so-called “experts” who charge money to pick selected games, can really hurt you. The best win maybe 53 to 55 percent. At that percentage, you barely make pocket change – slightly less exciting than watching paint dry. Those guys live with statistics and study results over multiple seasons. But it’s really a feel for a team’s rhythm, a bettor’s intuition on a play that’s important. Generally, it’s 90% psychological, 10% statistical.

The bettor lives in a dream world, where the money is monopoly money until you lose. Then it becomes real. I had a tremendous feel for the point spread. But it’s almost impossible to stay disciplined. In Larry Merchant’s 1973 book, “The National Football Lottery,” he asked Billy the Bookie if anyone had beaten him consistently. Billy replied:

“Two or three guys have done good for a while, but over the long haul I can’t think of anybody.”

He indicated greed was the main culprit and trying to win lost money back in one gulp was right behind.

My routine was radio; analyzing teams; placing bets and pacing the floor waiting for the outcome. It was too nerve-racking to watch the games I bet on, so I paced and called Sports Phone for hours at 20-minute intervals (976-1313). Gambling was an escape from reality. The incredible jolt of excitement when a game was all but lost…then hearing your team pulled it out! Conversely, the excruciating torture of a last-minute defeat at 2:00 A.M. was nearly unbearable.

Dating presented a problem. Everything would be fine, with a drink at dinner, until I excused myself and called Sports Phone. If the score was not favorable, I’d return to the table in a sullen mood. My date would invariably ask, “Why are you so quiet now?” I gave up girls for five years until I met my wife-to-be in 1987.

Once, I stupidly bet a pre-season NFL game. My team was dominant in the first half, and then the game began to unravel. In the fourth quarter, I was winning but barely beating the spread. I called Sports Phone and the young voice said, “Late fourth…” still winning but closer. The next call should give me the final, but I heard “Late, late fourth…” still winning, but by an eyelash. Now the pacing was frenetic. Finally, I nervously dialed the number. Then the numbing final score – I lost! I screamed obscenities at the kid on the recording, convinced he knew I had bet the game, and had deliberately dragged out the final score. I threw the phone across the room. The next day I bought a new phone.

I attended a Gamblers Anonymous meeting and spoke with a former mailman who had been “clean” for 12 years. His specialty was college basketball. He said he once won 34 straight games. I said, “If you were that good, Tom, how come you’re here?” He replied, “Bill, did you ever know, on a given night, one team was absolutely going to win?” I nodded. He said, “Did you ever just stick with that one team?” Wow, I got it. The “sure play” was too easy, so you’d throw in two other games to make it more exciting. Greed!

After some ups and downs, I found myself down $3010 on a Sunday, with absolutely no money, and only three 4 pm NFL games left on the docket. By now I was calling NY directly and rang in at 3:55 pm. Fortunately, I got through just before they “banged up” (closed). My circle was now $3500. So, I bet the three games in a parlay at 6-1, with my remaining $500.

By halftime I could have taken a nap, knowing I was off the hook. Every game went like clockwork in my favor–$3000 in the bank. I told Jimmy to square it with Sugar for the 10 bucks. I didn’t even have that! But what team was I going to bet on Monday Night Football? And maybe I had escaped a huge debt a little too easily…

Sure enough, a month later I was suddenly down $5810, way past my limit (sometimes the amount lost hadn’t caught up with the boys talking bets on the phone). I was frantic. No money and no way to get it. Then I thought of two gentlemen who were fans of my show, liked my rap on the Mets, and a movie review I did on “Raging Bull.” They were Hy and Cy, two nice gentlemen, late 50’s, in the jewelry business in Manhattan.

At 10 am Monday morning, I found myself at their door, W47th St., and was greeted by CY. I introduced myself and we exchanged pleasantries. Then I rattled off a crazy story about starting my own recording studio in NJ and needing $6000 to get started. I promised to pay back the loan in six months, with interest, and hopefully give them a piece of the profits in three months. Couldn’t believe I was doing this! Cy gave me a probing look and said, “Bill, we’re not wealthy men.” I mumbled something and crawled out of there.

A gambler will do almost anything to stay in the game, often resorting to means completely out of character to get the money. I had become a con man, totally against the grain of my true self. Finally, I called an uncle I hadn’t seen in 30 years. Uncle Steve was a retired pilot for Eastern Air Lines and well-healed through savvy real estate investments. Remarkably, I was able to borrow $5000 (don’t remember the reason I gave him) and managed the other $810 in credit card advances. Ah, back in the game!

WVNJ was sold in 1983. The FM became WHTZ (100.3-Z100) and the AM Spanish speaking. I didn’t fit either format, so I freelanced exclusively. Still kept the betting contacts and, after losing a bundle on Super Bowl 19 (Dan Marino magic couldn’t overcome the Frisco/Dolphin mismatch), I went on a wild romp for two weeks betting college and pro hoops. Credit line now $7500. My record was 26-3, with two 10-game winning streaks. I was allowed three, thousand dollar bets a week. The rest were mostly $500. Total winnings for the two weeks: $28,500!

My life would now evolve as that of an elite gambler, with broadcasting a pleasant sideline. I’d never do worse than break-even for a week or two, before going on another tear. Or, so I thought. Then reality set in with the cold, cruel light of dawn. On Monday, following the fortnight rampage, I called to get the lines. The voice said, “You can only make bets of $200, Saxon. Sugar says you’re killin’ him.” I hung up, stunned. If I saw that paltry amount on the street, I might not even pick it up. So, I thought, I’ll fix his wagon, I’ll bet three or four games a night in parlays. That was the beginning of the end.

I became lost in a vortex of losing, borrowing from friends, Aunt Betty, Uncle Fritz, my color commentator on Saturday football games, a lady pharmacist, a men’s clothing salesman who loaned money at 21%–and advances on credit cards right and left. No thought processes whatsoever, just chasing and paying, hoping to get lucky.

Bottom line: I was approaching 56k worth of debt. Miraculously, through prayer, I stopped gambling cold and won a couple of auditions that produced significant money. But it took me 11 years to finally get out from under. My marriage to Susan saved me from oblivion.

The demon…will mix lies with truth. The attack is psychological, Damien, and powerful. (Father Merrin, “The Exorcist”)

The truth is you can win and win big. The lie is you will keep on winning.

I cannot imagine betting today, sitting in front of the television, with FanDuel, DraftKings, William Hill et al, making it so easy with betting propositions throughout each game. My TV screen would have been smashed to smithereens.

Bill Schaefer

Sources: The National Football Lottery, Larry Merchant, 1973. The Exorcist, William Peter Blatty, 1971.  Web: Gambling quotes; Super Bowl 19. Wikipedia, The Morning Zoo.