Sports book picks for fee rarely bring much return

[Lumi]

Sports book picks for fee rarely bring much return

Each year during the lead-up to football season I receive requests from bettors, wary of being scammed, for recommendations regarding which sports handicappers they should ?follow? or which sports betting services are worth a subscription fee.

Though it?s not my place to advise bettors how to spend their money, I can offer a cold, sober account of the math behind paying for sports predictions.

Let?s say, for instance, you subscribe to a handicapper who can hit with 55 percent of his picks. Remember, this is a wildly optimistic projection for nearly anyone involved in sports betting across a large number of picks in a major sport against lines that are ?bettable? in the real world. (See this April 21 story).

Before paying any fees to the handicapper, a bettor with a $500 average wager would expect to make about $27.50 per play at that rate, after taking into account the standard vigorish. A $200 bettor, by way of comparison, would be making a profit of $11 per wager.

Let?s say the bettor is paying $29 for each pick. (Some handicappers charge less, others much more.) Now, the $200 bettor is losing $18 per play and the $500 bettor is losing $1.50 a pop.

Next, take a look at a handicapper who can hit at a 54 percent rate ? still quite optimistic for most mortals across a large number of picks in a major sport.

A $200 bettor would make about $6.80 per wager at that rate, a $500 bettor would make $17 per play, and a bettor with an average bet of $1,000 would make $34 per play. After the same $29 fee for a handicapper?s picks, however, the $200 bettor is now losing about $22 per bet, the $500 bettor is losing $8 per bet, and the $1,000 bettor is making only $5 per bet.

How about a sports handicapper who is good enough to win at a rate of 52.4 percent, the break-even point after taking into account the vig? It?s not easy to do, but it?s within the realm of possibility.

Plenty of sports bettors would be satisfied if they hit at that rate. After all, they could enjoy the privilege of experiencing all of that ?fun? and ?excitement? and all of those ?thrills? that come with betting sports ? for free! Not to mention a stack of drink coupons and a few logo T-shirts ? all free!

Those elements of sports betting are, as French President Francois Mitterrand said upon the opening of Euro Disney, ?pas ma tasse de the? (essentially, just not my cup of tea). The only interest I have in any of this stuff is to beat it ? an attitude that serves to make me persona non grata in any number of joints (among other examples, see this March 23, 2008 story).

But OK, I understand the thrills and chills are probably part of the appeal for a lot of bettors. Just don?t forget, if you?re paying a ?break even? handicapper, your cost goes from nothing to precisely whatever you?re paying for his predictions.

Some would maintain a winning percentage of 50 percent against the point spread is a more likely result. At that rate, before fees, a $200 bettor can expect to lose $10 per bet and a $500 bettor is losing $25 a pop. After fees, of course, they would find themselves rapidly on the road to ruin.

It?s not all bad news. For example, if a bettor is confident a handicapper can hit 54 percent, and he has the bankroll to average four-figure wagers, and he?s not paying too much for picks, and he can incorporate his own hard work and knowledge into the process, and if he can make bets against joints that offer a reduced vigorish, he would likely be in good shape. Just use caution and know what you?re getting into.

Notice that we have not addressed unscrupulous handicappers? claims of outlandish winning percentages, ?locks,? ?guaranteed winners,? or other sundry forms of hocus-pocus. If that?s the kind of thing you find attractive, you?re better off praying to the Easter Bunny to please oh please guide you to the most bestest Caveman Keno machine in the whole casino, and making your investment there.

 

[Lumi]

Pro sports betting, too, a game of inches

Pro sports betting, too, a game of inches

Pro sports betting, too, a game of inches

In a 1988 installment of the CBS News program ?48 Hours? that explored the Las Vegas scene, Dan Rather interviewed Michael ?Roxy? Roxborough, the influential sports oddsmaker.

Rather asked Roxy about the old-time stereotypical sports gambler ? you know, the character with a fur coat, a big cigar and a Cadillac.

Amused, Roxy assured Rather that those guys do still come to Las Vegas. Thing is, they usually last about a week before the town chews them up and spits them out.

A tableau reminiscent of that classic exchange played out this weekend in a well-appointed conference room at a Strip resort, where a small group of sports bettors had gathered for a private meeting to network and exchange information on their trade.

One guest speaker, going by the pseudonym ?Mr. X,? runs a major sports betting syndicate that wagers large sums of money through offshore sports books as well as in Las Vegas.

Yet he didn?t fit the image of a big-time gambler, at least not the way Rather envisioned it. Mr. X is 30-ish, looks a little like Joe the Plumber, and was dressed for the occasion in what might be charitably described as sports-bar chic.

He was asked how much he had spent on his T-shirt, a standard issue team-logo job.

?No idea. Fifteen bucks maybe.?

How about the jeans?

?No idea. Thirty bucks, 40 bucks??

Those sandals? He picked them up in Thailand three years ago for $3.50.

And what kind of pinkie ring does he have?

?Nope, no rings.?

Asked about the size of a typical wager his group places on a football game, Mr. X hesitated. There are a lot of variables, he began to explain, because each bet is based on a percentage of allotted bankroll, and that bankroll is constantly fluctuating, and ...

Hang on. Could you buy a new car with it?

No hesitation there. A slight chuckle, even. ?Yeah. Oh, yeah.?

Even so, most of the successful professional gamblers he knows maintain a low profile, Mr. X said. The investors in his syndicate, for example, all drive ?lousy? cars.

?Staying under the radar is very important,? he said. ?If you?re constantly running out and spending all the money you?re making, it?s probably very uncorrelated with being able to grow your bankroll. Making money gambling is a very exponential thing.

?Let?s say you have a $50,000 bankroll and let?s say you could go out and make $200,000 this year. Obviously, that?s fantastic. People would say you?re going to be a millionaire in no time.

?Well, if I decided I was going to take a bunch of that money and buy blow, cars, women, whatever, at the end of the year I might only have $50,000 again. And I can?t make more money the next year. Once you?ve accumulated a lot, you can build on that. That?s what you?re looking for.?

Touts who claim they can consistently pick winners at a rate of 58 percent, 60 percent or even higher do not merit serious consideration from someone like Mr. X. (See sidebar.)

In the real world of gambling, where he exists, a benchmark of 53 percent is more like it. Granted, his team makes some bets against lines with a reduced vigorish, laying $1.05 or $1.02 to win $1, rather than the traditional $1.10 to win $1, which serves to increase his profit margin. But still: 53 percent.

Overall, Mr. X said, his syndicate ?holds,? or wins, about 1 percent of the amount of money it puts into action. To put that in perspective, if you bet $1,000 a week for 17 weeks of a football season and had as much success as this group of high-level professional gamblers, you could expect to pocket a grand total of $170. This sports betting stuff truly is a game of inches.

Sure, 1 percent of a big fleet of new cars can be quite a nice score. But even that rate of return requires an enormous amount of work, according to Mr. X. His team completes much of the ?heavy lifting? in analyzing the forthcoming football season by June, then relies on statistical models throughout the season itself.

Typically during football season, Tuesday is a big day for placing early wagers. But the action kicks into high gear Thursday through Sunday, when Mr. X sleeps about five hours a day and works the other 19 hours.

?Thursday and Friday, we?re betting all day every day,? Mr. X said. ?That?s when we start doing a lot of ?halves? (first-half lines), which start coming up (on betting boards). Last year we were betting a lot of college totals on Fridays because there?s so much other stuff you can be doing Saturday morning. On Saturdays, you can really get money down, particularly if you have a network.?

If there?s one lesson Mr. X has taken from his career in betting sports, it?s that just when he thinks he has seen it all, he sees something new.

?I?ve been a professional gambler for eight years now, which is not a lot of time to a lot of people, but it feels like a lot of time to me,? he said. ?The longer I go, the more big losing streaks and big winning streaks I see. It?s like the longer I play, the longer the ?long run? seems.

?They say you can never lose 25 games in a row. That?s like once in a lifetime. Well, it happens. Now what??

While Mr. X posts some of his selections on a new Internet message board called Roughing the Punter (roughingthepunter.com), he cautions that he places his bets before writing about them.

?My money is in the market already,? he said.

With that, Mr. X was off to pound in some wagers on the latest NASCAR race. Yes, NASCAR. The work never ends.

?It?s fun,? he said. ?If it wasn?t fun I wouldn?t do it.?

IF IT SOUNDS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE...
How to deal with a sports gambler who boasts he can pick winners at a rate of 58 percent (or ? gasp! ? even higher) against the point spread:

The math: Start with $1,000. Make just one play a day for 10 years, giving yourself 65 days off per year. The optimal wager for a bettor who hits 58 percent is about 9 percent of bankroll per play, according to probability theory?s ?Kelly criterion.? So start with a $90 bet and adjust accordingly. At the end of 10 years, your record will be 1740-1260. Your bankroll will have grown to well over $300 million. Note that the order of the wins and losses is irrelevant.

The caveat: Once your bankroll reaches, say, $1 million, it will have become difficult to place your wagers. (That?s one of those ?good problems? to have.) For instance, it?s easy to bet $90, but not so easy to get down $90,000 on a single game. Therefore, in reality, your bankroll will probably be about $20 million to $30 million after 10 years rather than $300 million-plus.

The conclusion: Because of the aforementioned caveat, don?t ask that hypothetical gambler to show you his private tropical island. Just ask him to show you his opulent mansion. And if for some reason he?s trying to sell you his picks (!), ask why he needs your money when he already has a license to make a bare minimum of $20 million in 10 years? time.

Source: Discussion at a private meeting of professional sports bettors on the Las Vegas Strip.

 

[Lumi]

I don?t know how many times I?ve been banned from playing blackjack in casinos.

In the parlance of the game, I?ve ?lost the count.?

I savored the irony when it happened for the 21st time (get it, 21?), but now I usually just say ?dozens.?

If there?s one thing I?ve learned, it?s the more guys in suits glaring at you as you play, the more trouble you can expect.

In the boundless lingo of card counting, that?s called ?heat.? Soon after comes ?the tap? ? on the shoulder ? to tell you that your game is no longer welcome here, sir.

I?ve never encountered an episode like the classic backroom scene with the electric saw and the hammer in Martin Scorsese?s ?Casino,? or the hair-raising scenes in previews for ?21,? the movie to be released Friday that was inspired by the MIT card-counting team.

My encounters ? aficionados also call them ?backoffs? or ?barrings? and love to nitpick about the distinctions among the terms ? have been civil and businesslike.

The most pleasant came at Fiesta Rancho when it was owned by the Maloof family. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I asked for and received a generous comp to the casino?s Mexican restaurant as a sort of parting gift.

My banning at the Palms, another Maloof property, was also polite, almost apologetic. I was doing my best to mind my own business and look like a tourist enjoying a game of cards. A well-groomed casino official I had never seen before materialized by the table and said, matter-of-factly, ?Jeff, you can?t play here anymore.?

A bit jarred, I was reminded of the old Carlin routine in which he thinks he?s incognito in the dark confessional until the priest says, ?Now, what did you do that for, George??

The coolest pit boss I?ve met was in charge at a Harrah?s property in Northern Nevada. Sporting a retro, ?70s Tahoe-hippie look, he won me over with his patter even as he banned me: Hey, man, you?re 86?d tonight, but we know you?re gonna come back and try again. You try to win our money, we try to take your money. It?s all in the game.

Man.

The most uncool was a smarmy, chubby guy at the Beau Rivage, an MGM Mirage joint in Biloxi, Miss. Two players were at a $25 minimum table: Me and a middle-aged woman, a local regular known by name to the casino personnel, playing horribly, drinking in the morning, criticizing my play, rambling on about the ?flow of the cards.? As an oddsmaker, I installed her as a prohibitive favorite to have lost huge sums at the Beau Rivage.

I was up a couple of measly bucks when they banned me. The whole Dantean diorama seemed to exemplify the raw, ugly greed of the casino business. It made me feel a little sick. Plus, Chubby shot down my request for a buffet comp.

The trying-too-hard award goes to Arizona Charlie?s, where upon my banning a grizzled old codger of a pit boss snarled, loud enough for me to hear, ?We used to take guys like him out into the desert.? In an awe-inspiring feat of physical brilliance, I managed to stop myself from bursting into laughter.

Unless you?re Rain Man or on the MIT team, I suppose, card counting doesn?t always go according to plan. Even playing correctly, it?s a truism that you?ll lose the most money in the best games simply because you?ll be making bigger bets more frequently. Variance, she is a harsh mistress, and all that.

Once, I was playing a good double-deck game in a Las Vegas casino, using the moniker ?Ezra Hurwitz.? (I think that ?Jeff Haney? guy was already persona non grata there, you see.) I cut the cards, the count skyrocketed and the dealer made a bunch of 20s and 21s to crush the table and cost me a bundle.

After the shuffle, he handed the deck to another player and said, ?Let?s hope you cut them ... Better Than Ezra.?

The reference to the band remains, by a wide margin, the wittiest remark I have ever heard a blackjack dealer make.

When things are going well, however, card counters try to conceal their winnings by ?ratholing? chips, surreptitiously hiding them on their person. This allows them to keep the low profile they desire. Blackjack Forum magazine once ran an article written by a sleight-of-hand magician detailing rathole techniques.

I should have read it before I played at the Santa Fe (before it was a Station) casino. After instructing the dealer to stop dealing to me (permanently), the pit boss said, ?And before you leave, make sure you cash in all the chips in your pocket, too.? Ouch.

Acting drunk is another popular gambit. Order a gin and tonic, pour it out in the restroom and return to the blackjack table, hands smelling like Tanqueray, holding a glass filled with ice, lime slices and tap water. (Obviously, you should never drink for real while counting cards.)

The idea is to look like a fun-loving tourist rather than someone who knows how to play blackjack. As with other so-called ?cover? plays, it works until it doesn?t.

I once tried the old drunk act around 4:30 on a weekend morning at El Cortez. Staggering, slurring and holding a bottle of beer, I announced I had lost everywhere on Fremont Street that night, but I was determined to make it all back here at El Cortez.

The gentleman supervising the blackjack games brightened like the Southern Nevada desert sun. ?You have come to the right place, sir.?

I pulverized the single-deck game for 45 minutes before a woman in smart business attire, likely the supervisor?s supervisor, gave me the tap.

The movie ?21? will probably present card counting in a glamorous light. It carries no mystique for me.

Recently, a visitor from out of town who is successful in business but knows nothing about gambling wanted to play blackjack in Las Vegas for the first time in his life. We sat at the same table and I told him to mirror my bets.

He did. We both got the tap.

Now he can brag ? with complete honesty ? that every single time he tries to play blackjack in Las Vegas, he gets thrown out.

If only his buddies could have seen us, though, slinking out of the Plaza at something like 1 a.m. on a Tuesday, into the depressing cloaca that is the streets of downtown Las Vegas. Ah, the high rolling life of an ?advantage gambler.?

Dave Irvine of the MIT team ? the real one, not the celluloid version ? once told me disguises never worked well for him and his cohorts. Even professionally applied makeup would tend to melt, or the get-up would just look awkward.

Still, some card counters who have been banned a lot resort to alternate identities or modest disguises to gain more playing time. For example, maybe a guy who actually lives in Summerlin presents a casino player?s card that carries a goofy name and the address of a mail drop in Mill Valley, Calif. Maybe the guy?s short brown hair is covered by a Jeff Spicoli wig.

I, of course, would never dream of associating with anybody who would ever try to pull a stunt like that.

Neither would Ezra.