Posts Tagged ‘wagering’
“If you can’t spot the sucker in the first half hour… then you are the sucker”*…
Patrick Redford in the always-enlightening (and entertaining) Defector, on ESPN’s pivot to wagering…
Like an anglerfish lighting its lure, ESPN is attempting to use the shiny bauble of its broadcast rights and import within the sports media world to tempt people onto its gambling platform. The Worldwide Leader signed a 10-year, $2 billion deal with Penn Entertainment one year ago, on the theory that a fusion of ESPN’s brand with Penn’s sportsbook would make for a serious player in the sports gambling world. That theory, which has borne dubious results thus far, depends upon ESPN transforming itself into a gushing firehose of gambling sludge.
To that end, the company broadcast its gambling show ESPN Bet on regular ESPN for the first time this week, shuffling it over from lesser auxiliary ESPNs onto the main channel for the purpose of shoving the words ESPN Bet—also the name of the company’s sportsbook—in front of as many people as possible before football season. I watched both of this week’s episodes, curious what sort of impression the company would try to make. What strategies would it use to turn parlays into paydays? What I saw was an hour-long advertisement that made thin, watery attempts to justify itself as programming, which it is not. The point of ESPN Bet, italicized, is not to make you smarter about sports or give you good picks, but to divert the nascent gambler away from the two biggest sportsbooks in the country and onto ESPN Bet, plain text.
The show is hosted by Tyler Fulghum and Joe Fortenbaugh. It adheres to a very simple pattern: Here is something you can bet on (e.g.: NFL Comeback Player of the Year, the Cincinnati Reds, Israel Adesanya); here are the odds; here is an affirmative or negative case for why to bet or not bet on or against those odds. There are various gimmicky setups that don’t so much disguise this basic loop as they merely vary its cadence…
…
… Something as abstract as LSU and Miami’s making the College Football Playoff four months from now is already banal talk-show fodder on its own; ESPN Bet‘s outlook is even more refracted. The topic is not whether one or both of those teams make the CFP, but rather how correctly those teams’ respective chances of making the CFP are calibrated on this gambling app. The drama, to the extent there is any, is located not in anything that happens on the field or court, but essentially in arbitrage. ESPN Bet is SportsCenter, but about a number instead of a game.
The ostensible point is to make you, the viewer, a more informed gambler so you can make money. There are a number of lies being told here. The most obvious one concerns the topline nature of the operation: Casinos exist to separate you from your money, not to help you take theirs. No matter how spiffy Fortenbaugh’s mustache is—personally, I think he looks cool; Ray Ratto says he looks like “Ronald Colman in a 1953 black-and-white movie” and clearly means this as a bad thing—and how convincing he is about the solidity of the Orioles money line, anyone who is thinking about this rationally has to know there is no algorithmic way to beat the computers. Rather, if there is, it will not be broadcast in public by the very entity that stands to lose money off anybody learning it. There are sharps and there is everyone else, a dissonance that makes ESPN Bet‘s false performance of gambling knowledge all the more icky.
If you are serious about any of this, you know you’re being sold something. The show knows it’s selling you something, and while this is occasionally acknowledged—Fortenbaugh mentioned on Monday where the sharp money was going, which should prompt any viewer to ask what that makes them—the predatory artifice of ESPN Bet is only barely subtext. The specifics are interesting to the extent that they’re pushing a ton of football futures bullshit, as football is the most gambled upon sport in the U.S. But really, all that matters is that Fulghum and Fortenbaugh look you in the eye and say the words “ESPN Bet.” The show is straightforwardly an ad for the app, which ESPN executives have openly talked about on earnings calls.
The incentives are obvious. DraftKings and FanDuel have roughly equal shares of a combined 74.5 percent of the U.S. gambling market. ESPN Bet, meanwhile, controls a paltry 3.2 percent as of the second quarter of the fiscal year, which is down from 4.7 percent in the first quarter. They are getting crushed. ESPN Bet’s competitors are an order of magnitude larger because of first mover advantage, and the only strategic fulcrum ESPN has to utilize is its essentiality as a broadcaster. ESPN’s value proposition is that unlike DraftKings or FanDuel, it operates a vast media apparatus, one that can set itself on a gentle slope, sliding its audience inexorably toward gambling on their phones. An example of that approach’s noxiousness in practice, as Kathryn Xu wrote earlier this year, is the win probability graphic ESPN slaps on baseball broadcasts. But don’t just take our word for it. Here’s Penn CTO Aaron LaBerge on his company’s earnings call last week:
For example, when we have account linking in November, if you place a parlay on ESPN Bet, it’s going to appear in the ESPN app. You have to do no work. It’s going to be seamless. If anyone here has placed a parlay of more than two or three legs, you know that’s a struggle. And so, it’s just going to be like magic for you to actually consume that within ESPN. (source)
“Magic” is offensively lofty rhetoric to use about “consum[ing] that” when the sum total of “that” is losing $15 on a Jalen Williams-centric parlay without having to leave the ESPN appsphere. In the case of something like the Tigers’ birdbrained same game parlays, there is at least baseball (albeit Detroit Tigers baseball) at the core of the experience. Gambling content that is attached, remora-like, to the side of a sports-watching experience is annoying but ultimately ignorable. ESPN Bet is the gambling content shorn of the sports, like if your spam folder was a TV show.
Consider the question of what sort of audience ESPN Bet is even for. Anyone sharp and dedicated enough to actually make money on sports gambling is not getting their picks from two energetic guys on the TV. A viewer rational enough to know this is a sucker’s game will find ESPN Bet equally useless if not outright reprehensible. A viewer who wants to learn something about sports or have fun will find far better options.
What is actually sinister about this show isn’t its adjacency to gambling, but its nihilism. At best this is a show for nobody. Background music hums along behind the hosts throughout the broadcast, an obvious sign that this is intended less as programming you are meant to pay any actual attention to and more as something engineered to run in the background while you wait out an oil change or a connecting flight, a dog whistle audible to the most abject of marks. It is scarcely distinguishable from the commercials that break up its runtime, as it is itself a commercial. The show walks backward, away from the viewer, hoping to draw them into the void…
“‘ESPN Bet’ Is A Black Hole” (gift article) from @redford in @DefectorMedia.
See also: “Sports Betting Is Legal, and Sportswriting Might Never Recover.”
And for a different (and equally astounding/depressing) example of the outsized impact of money on sports see “Ex-Pac-12 Teams Will Face Some of The Worst Travel Distances in Power-Conference History,” from @Neil_Paine.
* Mike McDermott (Matt Damon) in Rounders
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As we look for the line, we might recall that it was on this date in 1991 that the World Wide Web was introduced to the world at large.
In 1989, Tim Berners-Lee (now Sir Tim) proposed the system to his colleagues at CERN. He got a working system implemented by the end of 1990, including a browser called WorldWideWeb (which became the name of the project and of the network) and an HTTP server running at CERN. As part of that development, he defined the first version of the HTTP protocol, the basic URL syntax, and implicitly made HTML the primary document format.
The technology was released outside CERN to other research institutions starting in January 1991, and then– with the publication of this (likely the first public) web page— to the whole Internet 32 years ago today. Within the next two years, there were 50 websites created. (Today, while it is understood that the number of active sites fluctuates, the total is estimated at over 1.5 billion… more than a handful, gambling sites.)
“Chance, too, which seems to rush along with slack reins, is bridled and governed by law”*…
And the history of our understanding of those laws is, as Tom Chivers explains (in an excerpt from his book, Everything is Predictable), both fascinating and illuminating…
Traditionally, the story of the study of probability begins in French gambling houses in the mid-seventeenth century. But we can start it earlier than that.
The Italian polymath Gerolamo Cardano had attempted to quantify the maths of dice gambling in the sixteenth century. What, for instance, would the odds be of rolling a six on four rolls of a die, or a double six on twenty-four rolls of a pair of dice?
His working went like this. The probability of rolling a six is one in six, or 1/6, or about 17 percent. Normally, in probability, we don’t give a figure as a percentage, but as a number between zero and one, which we call p. So the probability of rolling a six is p = 0.17. (Actually, 0.1666666… but I’m rounding it off.)
Cardano, reasonably enough, assumed that if you roll the die four times, your probability is four times as high: 4/6, or about 0.67. But if you stop and think about it for a moment, that can’t be right, because it would imply that if you rolled the die six times, your chance of getting a six would be one-sixth times six, or one: that is, certainty. But obviously it’s possible to roll six times and have none of the dice come up six.
What threw Cardano is that the average number of sixes you’ll see on four dice is 0.67. But sometimes you’ll see three, sometimes you’ll see none. The odds of seeing a six (or, separately, at least one six) are different.
In the case of the one die rolled four times, you’d get it badly wrong—the real answer is about 0.52, not 0.67—but you’d still be right to bet, at even odds, on a six coming up. If you used Cardano’s reasoning for the second question, though, about how often you’d see a double six on twenty-four rolls, it would lead you seriously astray in a gambling house. His math would suggest that, since a double six comes up one time in thirty-six (p ≈ 0.03), then rolling the dice twenty-four times would give you twenty-four times that probability, twenty-four in thirty-six or two-thirds (p ≈ 0.67, again).
This time, though, his reasonable but misguided thinking would put you on the wrong side of the bet. The probability of seeing a double six in twenty-four rolls is 0.49, slightly less than half. You’d lose money betting on it. What’s gone wrong?
A century or so later, in 1654, Antoine Gombaud, a gambler and amateur philosopher who called himself the Chevalier de Méré, was interested in the same questions, for obvious professional reasons. He had noticed exactly what we’ve just said: that betting that you’ll see at least one six in four rolls of a die will make you money, whereas betting that you’ll see at least one double six in twenty-four rolls of two dice will not. Gombaud, through simple empirical observation, had got to a much more realistic position than Cardano. But he was confused. Why were the two outcomes different? After all, six is to four as thirty-six is to twenty-four. He recruited a friend, the mathematician Pierre de Carcavi, but together they were unable to work it out. So they asked a mutual friend, the great mathematician Blaise Pascal.
The solution to this problem isn’t actually that complicated. Cardano had got it exactly backward: the idea is not to look at the chances that something would happen by the number of goes you take, but to look at the chances it wouldn’t happen…
…
… Pascal came up with a cheat. He wasn’t the first to use what we now call Pascal’s triangle—it was known in ancient China, where it is named after the mathematician Yang Hui, and in second-century India. But Pascal was the first to use it in problems of probability.
It starts with 1 at the top, and fills out each layer below with a simple rule: on every row, add the number above and to the left to the number above and to the right. If there is no number in one of those places, treat it as zero…
… Now, if you want to know what the possibility is of seeing exactly Y outcomes, say heads, on those seven flips:
It’s possible that you’ll see no heads at all. But it requires every single coin coming up tails. Of all the possible combinations of heads and tails that could come up, only one—tails on every single coin—gives you seven heads and zero tails.
There are seven combinations that give you one head and six tails. Of the seven coins, one needs to come up heads, but it doesn’t matter which one. There are twenty-one ways of getting two heads. (I won’t enumerate them all here; I’m afraid you’re going to have to trust me, or check.) And thirty-five of getting three.
You see the pattern? 1 7 21 35—it’s row seven of the triangle…
Pascal’s triangle is only one way of working out the probability of seeing some number of outcomes, although it’s a very neat way. In situations where there are two possible outcomes, like flipping a coin, it’s called a “binomial distribution.”
But the point is that when you’re trying to work out how likely something is, what we need to talk about is the number of outcomes— the number of outcomes that result in whatever it is you’re talking about, and the total number of possible outcomes. This was, I think it’s fair to say, the first real formalization of the idea of “probability.”..
On the historical origins of the science of probability and statistics: “Rolling the Dice: What Gambling Can Teach Us About Probability,” from @TomChivers in @lithub.
See also: Against the Gods, by Peter Bernstein.
And for a look at how related concepts shape thinking among quantum physicists, see “The S-Matrix Is the Oracle Physicists Turn to in Times of Crisis.”
* Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy
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As we roll the bones, we might send carefully-calculated birthday greetings to a central player in this saga, Abraham de Moivre; he was born on this date in 1667. A mathematician, he’s known for de Moivre’s formula, which links complex numbers and trigonometry, and (more relevantly to the piece above) for his work on the normal distribution and probability theory. de Moivre was the first to postulate the central limit theorem (TLDR: the probability distribution of averages of outcomes of independent observations will closely approximate a normal distribution)– a cornerstone of probability theory. And in his time, his book on probability, The Doctrine of Chances, was prized by gamblers.
“The excitement that a gambler feels when making a bet is equal to the amount he might win times the probability of winning it.”*…
This afternoon’s Super Bowl is yet to be played, but it is already destined for the record books…
The American Gaming Association expects 50.4 million Americans to wager legally on the game (up over 61% from last year), for a total of $16 Billion at stake (more than twice last year’s betting). To put this into context, in 2022, U.S. legal gambling totaled about $55 billion.
It will also be the first Championship game with an on-site sports book (though attendees don’t need to leave their seats to wager; Arizona is one of the 33 states [plus D.C.] in which they can make bets in licensed betting shops on the way to the game… or, of course, they can just use their phones to bet online).
Sports betting is exploding in the U.S. About 20% of U.S. adults said that they had placed sports bets in 2022. Some of those bets were through legal channels. But The AGA estimates that American also wagered almost $64 billion in 2021 with illegal sports books– part of the $511 Billion bet on those books, iGaming websites, and “skill games.”
These figures exclude the purchase of state lottery tickets, which has grown to over $100 billion. The average American spent $46 on lottery tickets in the U.S. in 2022; but the amounts varied wildly from state-to-state– in Massachusetts, residents spent an average of $805.30.
See also: “How Sports Betting Upended the Economies of Native American Tribes.”
* Blaise Pascal, whose correspondence with Pierre de Fermat on gambling laid the foundation for the modern theory of probability
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As we wonder about wagering, we might send insightful birthday greetings to Charles Darwin; he was born on this date in 1809. A naturalist, geologist, and biologist, he is widely known for his contributions to evolutionary biology. His proposition that all species of life have descended from a common ancestor is now generally accepted and considered a fundamental concept in science.
In a 1858 joint publication with Alfred Russel Wallace, he introduced his scientific theory that this branching pattern of evolution resulted from a process he called natural selection, in which the struggle for existence has a similar effect to the artificial selection involved in selective breeding. Darwin published a more complete version of his theory of evolution, with compelling evidence. in his 1859 book On the Origin of Species.
Darwin’s scientific discovery is the unifying theory of the life sciences, explaining the diversity of life– for which he has been described as one of the most influential figures in human history.
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