S T A T E M E N T
michigandaily.com — The Michigan Daily
Wednesday, February 1, 2023— 8
Nature is (almost) free: Inclusivity in outdoor communities
Five years ago, in a 6-3 split
decision, the U.S. Supreme Court
found that the 1992 Professional
and Amateur Sports Protection
Act’s (PASPA) prohibition on “state
authorization of sports gambling
schemes” was a violation of the
10th Amendment. Almost instantly,
a multi-billion dollar industry
was reinvigorated, and gambling
— both casual and competitive —
became just a few clicks away from
being accessible to the masses.
I, however, was unimpacted at the
time. I had already been gambling
with my Grandpa for years.
***
I was about 6 or 7 when my
Grandpa first taught me how to
gamble, and I was about 8 or 9
when he first told me about the
Woman in Red.
We were eating at a dining table
in the den of a racetrack at 2 p.m. on
a weekday, cracking pistachios and
watching $5,000 maiden claimers
races (the lowest classification)
when he pulled out a $20 bill and
started rambling.
“No I swear, $100,000 every time.”
“There’s no way that’s true. In
1930’s money?”
“I don’t know what to tell you
kid, I’m not lying.”
“Wearing red every time? Why?
Where’d she get the money?”
“Lord knows, but I always
thought she was a front for some big
mobster. She’d show up by herself,
dressed to the nines in a gorgeous
red dress, place a sure-thing bet,
collect the winnings and then leave
for a few months.”
I was gobsmacked imagining the
opulent lifestyle this woman must
have lived. Then, I did my best to
mimic her by throwing two dollars
(the lowest legal amount) on a low-
grade, randomly picked horse. There
was something so thrilling about
the whole process — reading horse
backgrounds, comparing furlong
times, scouring records on dirt
tracks and who beat who at Santa
Anita — all to lose two dollars in a
room packed with people who, let’s
not kid ourselves here, may or may
not have had gambling problems.
But I never imagined myself as
just a 9 year old betting with my
Grandpa’s money — it felt so much
more glamorous than that. There
was always something that felt
so illicit about it, and at the same
time, so exhilarating. Every year
on Kentucky Derby Saturday, I
still call my Grandpa to deliver my
picks, and we technically make a
bet, but neither of us ever pays the
other when we lose.
***
Now,
following
the
Supreme
Court’s decision, sports betting is
no longer illegal in 35 states, nor is it
reserved for fringe sports like horse
racing and Jai Alai. It’s a widespread,
legal, multi-billion dollar industry
and it’s one which is advertised
incessantly. If you watch sports, you
are inundated by ads encouraging you
to gamble. They tell you how to make
money, where to make money and
how easy it is to make that money — so
much so that you start to believe it.
In 2022, the Bureau of Indian
Affairs
Advisory
Services
estimated that $1.8 billion would
be spent in advertisements by
sportsbook companies. In the past
year, popular sportsbook FanDuel
spent a billion dollars on an
advertising blitz, and in week one
of the 2022 NFL football season,
4.8% of all ad impressions ($24
million worth) were for some form
of gambling.
Saying that the advertisements
are prevalent shouldn’t come as a
shock, but what should be noted
is that the advertisements are
working, and they’re working very,
very well. According to the Pew
Research Center, 19% of Americans
have bet money on sports in
the past year. According to the
American
Gaming
Association,
18% of Americans planned to bet on
the 2022 NFL season alone, a 40%
increase from 2020, and according
to NPR, the National Problem
Gambling Helpline Network saw a
45% increase in calls in 2021 over
the year prior.
The constant advertisements
on television have at least one
redeeming
quality:
They’re
being upfront about what they’re
trying to do. They’re telling you
to gamble, and they’re not hiding
it. But in recent years, in a very
subtle and increasingly insidious
way, gambling companies have
co-opted sports culture so that
it has become fully synonymous
with betting culture, and they’ve
done so without many people even
realizing it.
On
TikTok,
Twitter
and
Instagram, the algorithms deliver
posts about gambling to individuals
interested in sports. Some of these
posts are light-hearted and funny.
Unashamedly, one of my favorite
content creators is bookitwithtrent,
a TikTok betting guru who shot to
fame after publicly betting on every
single game in the 2021 World
Series and losing each time. Trent’s
videos are self-deprecating and
centered on the idea that he is more
than just slightly degenerate, and
somehow even more incompetent.
But
most
of
the
accounts
that advertise gambling aren’t
spearheaded by reckless young
gamblers,
they’re
reputable
outlets that, in an engaging and
unassuming
way,
constantly
remind you that there’s a gold
rush, and you’re missing out on it.
Bleacher Report is generally seen
as a reputable news outlet, yet even
it in many respects has become a
shill for gambling companies. In
2021, Bleacher Report announced
a partnership with DraftKings,
aimed at engaging the 59% of
Bleacher
Report’s
readership
that gambled and adding to it.
Subsequently, a subsidiary account
on TikTok and Instagram with
the username “brbetting” has
gained over 600,000 and 900,000
followers
respectively,
solely
devoted to advertising betting.
One of my favorite campaigns,
and one of the most telling
advertisements they ran, was
telling the story of the World Cup
through Danny, a gambler one leg
away from cashing a $26, six-leg
parlay for half a million dollars
if France won. In the end, Danny
cashed out for $280,000 before
the final. But to DraftKings, I’m
certain it didn’t matter. Because
even if he took $280,000 from
them, they won. He was the best
advertising they could’ve asked
for. They posted about Danny
more than 50 times, and every
time I saw him on the precipice
of fortune, I, and millions of other
combined
followers,
imagined
ourselves there too.
It isn’t just the sheer quantity
or placement of advertisements
that I find insidious, it’s also how
desperate these companies are
to get you to spend. The major
companies
can’t
differentiate
themselves with their product.
They can, however, differentiate
themselves with their incentives.
Today, DraftKings markets
a “$5 bet to win $200 in bonus
bets” if you sign up. FanDuel
will return up to “$1000 back
if you’re down after your first
day,” and in Michigan, Caesars
offers a one-time $1,250 bet
credit backup “if you don’t win.”
They want you to believe you’ll
strike it rich, because, with
$1,000 dollars to blow, how
couldn’t you?
I know it sounds ridiculous, and I
know I should act as some authority
above the idea of gambling, but if
I’m being honest, I can’t imagine
how I would lose. That’s the
craziest part about the proliferation
of sports betting: Almost everyone
knows it’s a losing proposition, but
we delight in betting anyway.
Last year on a flight home, I had
a four-hour layover in Vegas, and
distinctly remember sitting on the
tarmac, just waiting to lose money
in the airport (I was devastated
when I found out I had to be 21). At
the Sports desk inside The Michigan
Daily’s
newsroom,
my
fellow
underage friends and I routinely
cooked up 10-leg college football
parlays with companies based in
Nassau that we knew would never
win. My friend John and I always
joke as he opens FanDuel, “How on
earth could we lose?”
I genuinely think that the day
I turn 21, I will start occasionally
betting, because it looks fun, and
even though I know better, I still
imagine that I’ll be the one to beat
the odds. That isn’t a rare sentiment
though, especially amongst the
younger
generation.
According
to Pew, an eye-popping 60-80%
of high school students reported
“gambling for money” in the past
year. High schoolers.
Gambling is in its Wild West
phase. Suddenly, the market is open,
the rules are vague and there’s an
entire country to profit from.
***
I think back to being eight at the
horse track with my Grandpa and
winning my first bet, imagining myself
as the glamorous Woman in Red.
The experience was thrilling,
but it was also casual in a way that
I don’t think gambling is anymore.
Horse racing used to be unique
in that it was the only sport that
mainly only existed for gambling.
Don’t get me wrong — I love the
sport, but the thrill doesn’t come
from watching a favorite horse — it
comes from winning.
Today, you don’t need a horse
to win, because you can gamble
on anything from your phone:
coin tosses, first receptions, first
touchdown scorers, whether the
final score is odd or even, ping pong
and even the color of the Gatorade
thrown at the Super Bowl are all
fair game. And this changes the
way we interact with sports. Many
people don’t watch for outcomes
anymore, they watch for statistics.
Two weeks ago I put 5,000 in
fake currency coins on an app
called Fliff on Ezekiel Elliot to get
two receptions. I didn’t watch the
game. I did, however, watch the
statline. It was ridiculous. It was
imaginary money being gambled
on a game I didn’t want to watch,
and I still got mad when I lost.
***
I can talk about the predatory
nature
of
sports
betting
advertising, and I can condemn
the manufactured obsession of
sports culture with gambling — but
there’s no going back. Gambling is
accessible, constantly advertised
and here to stay. Now, every sport
has turned into a form of horse
racing, and every athlete has
become a horse in the eyes of many
— merely a vessel for a bet.
Everyone gains the capacity
— like the bettor, Danny — to be
the Woman in Red, and as that
happens, gambling companies gain
a spokesperson.
Because if the Woman in Red
convinced me to gamble with my
Grandpa at age eight, there’s no
reason why that exact same story
in a different format can’t convince
millions of people scrolling on
TikTok to do the same.
The legalization, and spread of
sports betting, has given us all the
capacity to become the Woman
in Red, but at the same time,
we’ve been fooled by her story.
HALEY JOHNSON
Statement Correspondent
How legalized betting has changed the way we watch sports
Design by Grace Filbin
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
At the start of each semester, the
University of Michigan deposits
$500 into my bank account for
“textbooks.” Inevitably, I end up
spending this sum on something
decidedly non-academic: clothes,
knitting supplies, overpriced candles.
This year it was an Osprey 50L
backpacking pack for my upcoming
spring break trip to Zion National
Park. Osprey is the brand of choice
for many backpacking enthusiasts
because
their
products
are
lightweight, durable and come with
a lifetime warranty; the model I had
purchased was one of the cheapest
options available and still came out to
over $180 dollars. Initially, I wanted
to buy a sleeping bag, but changed my
mind when I saw the $300+ price tag.
Before I hit purchase, I paused
to question how I had gotten to
this point. Nine months ago, I went
on what hiking enthusiasts would
consider to be my first “real” hike,
a designation that was mostly to do
with the nature of the terrain. I would
be covering 4,000 feet of elevation
gain and 15 miles of trail in Yosemite
National Park. It was miserable. I
had cheaped out on hiking boots
and purchased a heavily discounted
pair with poor ankle support. By the
time I reached the last four miles of
the hike, I was in so much pain that I
started walking backwards to relieve
the strain on my knees. I vowed to
never do a hike like that again.
As soon as my legs recovered,
however, I began romanticizing the
experience. It was by far the most
difficult physical experience I had
ever had, but it was also beautiful,
and made me feel connected with
nature in a way I never had before.
When I looked at the photos I had
taken, I could hardly remember the
sweltering heat, the smoke-filled air
from nearby wildfires or the acute
sense of exhaustion I felt at the end.
Just four months later, I signed up
to go on a fall break trip with the U-M
Backpacking Club.
***
In the University of Michigan’s
backpacking club, newcomers are
induced into the idiosyncratic world
of backcountry camping permits,
gore-tex and wilderness etiquette
through backpacking 101, an hour-
long presentation put on by the club
that consists of a lengthy slide deck
covering everything from sleeping
bag materials to the principles of
“leave no trace.”
On my trip to Yosemite, I had
relied heavily on my boyfriend, who
was an experienced hiker, to plan
our route and make sure we had the
proper supplies. I wouldn’t exactly
be alone on the fall break trip — I
had been placed in a group with four
other strangers — but I would be
responsible for myself. Backpacking
101 was both incredibly informative
and
(predictably)
woefully
insufficient: backpacking is, in some
ways, a skill that most experienced
hikers have built up over a lifetime.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick up
that knowledge in 60 minutes, no
matter how diligently I took notes.
LSA junior Moshay Turner had
never been backpacking when she
joined the club last year, but felt well
prepared after receiving a crash
course. “They gave us information
about what gear to get, what food to
pack, all those things,” she explained.
“Then I bought a book about
backpacking. I don’t know if it was
really that helpful, it was kind of the
same information the club gave me.”
As
LSA
senior
Christian
Mulville, U-M backpacking club
communications director, explained
to me, “the educational aspect is
definitely the biggest part of what
the club does...it’s really all about
preparing our members, especially
those who perhaps come in with little
to no experience, and making sure
they’re comfortable and have the
information and level of education
they need to have fun.”
In addition to educating members,
the club also places prospective
hikers in groups based on their
experience level and preferred trip
destination. I was familiar with
this approach — for fall break, I was
grouped with four other students
with no backpacking experience for
a trip to Shenandoah National Park.
The club offers a matching service
akin to a travel agent. They helped
my group rent a van through the
University to drive to Shenandoah,
VA. but after that it was up to us.
The club also provides groups
with optional assistance in planning
their itinerary, but each group
ultimately decides what trails they
hike and what supplies they bring.
Two groups may go to the same fall
break destination but go on vastly
different trips, depending on their
skills and preference.
In the club, experience levels
are “generally split pretty 50/50,”
Mulville clarified. “A lot of our
members will come in and maybe
have day hiking experience, but
nothing where they’re camping
overnight or gone backpacking in a
national park.”
The
most
valuable
services
the backpacking club offers, in a
sense, have very little to do with
actually backpacking. New member
education and the matching process
all take place before hikers ever step
foot in the forest. It’s an intentional
choice, I’ve come to learn — many of
the biggest barriers to getting outside
have more to do with culture and
institutional knowledge than with
the outdoors itself.
A 2021 study conducted by
Scotland’s Ministry of Environment
and Land Reform identified social
norms, access to information and lack
of social connections who partake in
outdoor activities as key barriers to
outdoor recreation. However, the
researchers noted that “having a
friend, friendship group or family
member to do something with was
mentioned as an important factor in
starting or maintaining a particular
activity,
providing
people
with
information, confidence and support
that they might not otherwise have
had. This was particularly helpful
for participation in new or niche
activities
when
familiarity
and
confidence were lower.”
While
there’s
a
wealth
of
information
online
about
how
to get into backpacking, these
resources are often difficult to
navigate. Recreation.gov and the
National Park Service’s website are
meant to be the go-to source for
information about recreation on
public lands, but these websites are
plagued with inconsistencies and
technical issues that make them
relatively inaccessible to novices.
More fluent, technically functional
online communities dedicated to
outdoor recreation are typically
geared
towards
experienced
members and have been criticized
for
“gatekeeping”
and
being
unwelcome to newcomers.
The backpacking club eliminates
members’s need for these online
resources. Students can connect
with other backpackers during fall
break and spring break trips and
the club’s executive board can help
inexperienced hikers plan their
first trips in a safe, judgment-free
environment.
“We like to say (backpacking) is
a very college thing to do,” Mulville
explained. “A lot of people who
join the club are trying to get into
it, trying to explore and trying to
make friends in the club.”
Going
into
my
fall
break
trip,
I
wasn’t
sure
if
backpacking would be for me.
CHARLIE PAPPALARDO
Statement Columnist
Design by Grace Filbin
Read more at MichiganDaily.com