The Scarlet Bettor

 

Years ago, when social media still meant the staticky television set jury-rigged to the molding of a neighborhood social club, gambling was viewed as an illicit activity. Something dangerous and to be handled by professionals or at least ex-cons. On this TV, members in good standing would sit and bet on the ponies at Aqueduct or Belmont. They’d explain the point of harness racing or what the rabbit in a dog track was made of. They’d wager on anything and everything. But they weren’t regular guys who had nine-to-fives, accurately and honestly filling out their W-2s. They revolutionized working remotely long before it was mainstream. They put a little sambuca in their coffee and smoked cigarillos by the carton. 

Others would peer into the club to get a glimpse at the cash changing hands after every race. Online gambling simply meant the prodigious line snaking around the club’s backdoor, full of anxious people scrambling to pay their weekly vig. At the end of the day, everybody wants to keep their thumbs. It’s why certain segments of the animal kingdom ignore their debts. Like cats. Why is that again? No opposable thumbs, leaving very little anatomically for an industrious young thug to threaten with sudden and forceful removal.

People, on the other hand, care deeply about the well-being of their thumbs. We depend on gestures to communicate non-verbally. When the thumbs up disappears from your digital arsenal, it’s a sad moment where smiling becomes the only way one can convey sincere approval.

When gambling was situated firmly underground, identifying gamblers was incredibly easy. You’d look for the person red with fear and drink The scarlet bettor, as it were. Today, with the Internet diving into wagering with both hands wide open, it’s not always so obvious how to spot someone with a weakness for point spreads. The stigma isn’t what it used to be.

Will gambling recede from the public? I wouldn’t bet on it.