Right now, you could close out this story, flip over to a gambling app and vaporize your entire paycheck. You could destroy your kids’ college funds or your chances of ever owning a house. Or, if you happen to be in a position to do so, you could blast a hole in the title hopes of one of the nation’s top-ranked college football programs.
All of that, right from the betting app on your phone. No matter how much you appreciate, adore or profit from sports gambling, it’s undeniable we’ve just crossed an ominous new milestone on Monday.
Brendan Sorsby, incoming quarterback for Texas Tech, potential Heisman candidate, possible 2027 NFL Draft first-rounder, is checking into a residential treatment program for gambling addiction. Gambling has now torpedoed both Sorsby’s own immediate future and, likely, that of the preseason top-10 Red Raiders.
Every sports team and league, at every level, ought to be terrified by this story. We’ve known for years how easy it is for gamblers to slide from recreational to addicted, and in turn, how easy it is for the financially vested to overlook a problem until it’s too late.
Before we get any deeper here, let’s acknowledge the obvious: good on Sorsby for taking this step. Addiction is a disease, one that requires everyone involved — the victim and their family and loved ones — to step up and meet its challenge. Sorsby is responsible for his own problems, yes, but admitting that he needs help solving them is a necessary first step. Texas Tech deserves credit, too, for standing behind Sorsby rather than pitching him overboard, and it should continue to do so.
According to an ESPN investigation, Sorsby placed thousands of bets through a phone app. While redshirting at Indiana, he bet on the Hoosiers — always to win games, apparently, and never while he was in the game.
You don’t need to even believe Sorsby’s accounting of his gambling habits to see just how flimsy this whole construct is. Even if he didn’t bet against his own team, or against his own interests, we’ve already seen players who have.
The only thing standing between a player throwing down a few fun bets and that same player wagering on season-killing propositions is that player’s own sense of morality and fear of consequences. And at a certain point on the addiction spectrum, morality isn’t even a consideration, and the fear of some possible punishment doesn’t even compare to the need to feed the beast.
Sorsby isn’t the problem here, though. He’s a symptom of a system that continues to show ever-more-destructive potential even as it grows exponentially, funneling ever more money into lobbying efforts, advertising and, yes, media. Make a count — but please don’t take a drink — every time you see a gambling reference during a sporting event. See if you can make five minutes without hitting double-digit totals.
Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, pornography — all these vices are more easily obtainable now than ever before. And yet they still can’t compare with the ruthless wallet-stripping efficiency of gambling, which resides right there in your phone next to your text and music apps. You can’t download cigarettes or drink a screenshot of a shot, but you can damn sure throw down $100 on the Lakers in the time it takes to start a text to your mother.
There’s freedom to pursue your own pleasures … and then there’s sticking your hand into a running garbage disposal in the hope that there’s a quarter pinging around down there.
All of us — gamblers, teams, governments, media — have been willing to live with the occasional Brendan Sorsby, the occasional federal investigation, the occasional lifetime suspension. The rush of betting the over is too much fun, the occasional inward flow of revenue too welcome. Any attempt to restrict, re-channel or regulate gambling will cut into both the rush and the cash.
The thing is, “Just don’t gamble!” isn’t a strategy. The temptations are vast, the messaging inescapable, the opportunities widespread, the cash handover frictionless. And now the consequences of our inaction, our blind eyes, our “Well, sucks for them” shrugs are coming ever closer. All the hundreds of millions Texas Tech has spent on its football program, and it all might be undone with a few taps on a phone screen. And your school, your team might well be next.
We can keep hoping that the latest catastrophic gambling story is the last one. Or we can understand that, on our present trajectory, the worst lies ahead. Want to guess which of those two has better odds?
