A FAN’S NOTES

I Am Shocked! Shocked, I Say!

The idea staggered me. I remembered, of course, that the World’s Series had been fixed in 1919, but if I had thought of it at all I would have thought of it as a thing that merely happened, the end of an inevitable chain – F. Scott Fitzgerald (Nick Carraway), The Great Gatsby

Modern-day Arnold Rothsteins (Meyer Wolfsheim in the novel) needn’t concoct such elaborate schemes. The Jazz Age has passed. There's a new flap about. 

Vices are fun. Their addictive nature demands strict management however. Therefore, it’s preferable not to have too many to juggle. For instance, drink and drugs may cloud your betting judgment. Card counters best not be seeing double. Have a cigarette and select an alternate. Know your limit.

Gambling’s never provided me a tenterhook rush. I’ve always viewed it as the opportunity cost of other vices. Sports and gambling used to have a taboo relationship, like incest or Rosemary’s Baby. Before you knew it, professional poker turned up on your TV’s sports channel. The creep became a sprint. Sports gambling has since been legitimized and digitized. There’s an app for that in-game prop bet.

A doughy and pasty Wayne Gretzky shills for one industry firm during hockey games broadcast in Canada. The gig probably pays better than his middle-aged men’s line of clothing in a failed department store chain. And probably better than the returns from his shuttered wine bar just past security in Edmonton’s international airport.

I was mildly stunned to see stadium advertising for betting whilst seated along the first base line at a late September Toronto Blue Jays game. This was after all the nostalgia infused apple pie sport still somewhat tarnished by the Black Sox and Pete Rose. More glaring mixed messages: beer and emulsified food (killers both and so addictive), but no peanuts because some pale, fragile child may have a reaction.

Have you been married more than once? Chances are, somebody’s going to tell you that one of them was a very bad idea. But you were thinking about mutual benefits at the time. Pro sports courted its first cousin. Well, gee. Well, genes. What could possibly go wrong? Betting scandals have erupted like volcanos in MLB and NBA of late. “Dropped like bombshells” in journalese. These are just the trailers: More scandals! More leagues! Coming soon to a theatre of the absurd near you. United States Attorneys will tut-tut and blather on about the inherent integrity of venerable institutions. Does corruption surprise anybody anymore? Really? Such a disgrace! Please.

The fix is implemented by sports books’ online in-game prop bets. Prop bets are micro-wagers, big money staked fleeting moments that the athletes themselves can manipulate and control. A basketball player may remove himself from a game upon playing a certain number of minutes and registering some other stat, rebounds maybe, assists. Somebody bet on those numbers. A pitcher ensures a slider is well out of the batter’s strike zone and below a certain velocity. Somebody bet on the umpire’s call and the pitch’s speed. Hell, gamblers could conceivably get to anthem singers now: “Your rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” will do America proud. You’re a diva, you tend to warble, but can we discuss the over-under?”

The motivation of the alleged complicit players vexes me. Greed is always the usual suspect, but these guys are paid well by any standard. Signed up union members at that. I think the reps (and even the shadowy influencers) would host a brief Burner Phone 101 seminar. Threat and duress? Favours for less fortunate friends? Stupidity? Maybe simple human nature is the key.

The Confessions is one of the world’s great theological texts. In any religion. Bit of a grind; I wouldn’t recommend it as beach reading should you be embarking on a discounted tourist compound holiday in a hurricane zone. No worries, there’s a cheat song for your earbuds and iPhone. Mick Jagger summed up The Confessions succinctly: Augustine knew temptation/He loved women, wine and song/And all the special pleasures/Of doing something wrong…

Dispatches from the Crooked 9 has been your most unreliable, unbalanced and inaccurate alternative source of everything since 2013. Sunset Oasis Confidential is still out there languishing in multiple formats. Visit my companion site www.megeoff.com for links to your preferred retailer. Of Course You Did is still print. Collect the set!