"WHY I BECAME A SPORTS GAMBLER"

Recently, I received an e-mail from a reader who wanted to know what it takes to handicap sports professionally. He wanted to know IF sports handicapping could be a viable career choice, and IF SO -- "Would I advise it?"

The answers to these questions are a simple "YES," and a very sobering "NO." Sports gambling is a viable career choice. However, I would advise against it.

My view is that if anyone is talented enough to make it as a professional sports handicapper (the same goes for professional poker players as well, in my view), he/she could probably do a lot better financially and without the burden of the tremendous emotional and financial swings by applying those same skills in the business world or many other endeavors.

I more or less stumbled into this profession over the years. It was not a conscious career choice on my part.

Does that mean I have regrets? No, I do not. I enjoy what I do. I can't imagine doing anything else. I believe the potential is unlimited as gambling -- and sports gambling in particular -- will continue to expand in this country and abroad. But in terms of "recommending" that someone aspire to be a full-time professional gambler -- I always advise people to have a legitimate career path first, then gambler on the side. If you are good enough, you can increase your reliance upon gambling for your income and decrease your workload accordingly. But, placing the cart before the horse does not work. Trust me.

Two more points about why I became a sports gambler for those who are interested:

1. "The fundamental importance of recognizing value." My first serious bet, and by that I mean a bet that had a real financial consequence beyond just a few dollars, was on the 1975 Super Bowl. I was 13 years old at the time. I was in junior high school in the Oak Cliff section of Dallas (T.W. Browne middle school), which for those who may not know is a short distance away from where Lee Harvey Oswald lived and where he was caught after the JFK assassination. Working, middle-class neighborhood. Mixed ethnically. When the Cowboys were in a Super Bowl, the entire city basically shut down. It was Texas' equivalent of Islamic Ramadan. Everything closed. 4 million people were glued to their television sets in observance of Texas' primary religion -- "football."

The Dallas Cowboys were playing the Pittsburgh Steelers in Super Bowl X at Miam's Orange Bowl. Dallas was a 5-point underdog (if memory serves). Like everyone else in Dallas, I lived and died with the Cowboys. Mother and I had season tickets. But, I also recognized that Pittsburgh was the better team. Dallas fielded 12 rookies that year, and even with Roger Staubach in the lineup (a God, in my view) and Tom Landry as coach, the Cowboys were going to have serious problems scoring in the game, particularly without a solid running attack (Robert Newhouse was the Dallas RB).

But everyone in Dallas believed with their hearts and not with the heads. After all, Dallas had just upset Minnesota in the famous "Hail Mary" game and had crushed the talented LA Rams by 30 points at the Coliseum in the previous two games. The Cowboys were a team of destiny. Or, so it seemed.

Few teenagers understood anything about the betting line back in those days. Most bets were friendly $1-$2 wagers between friends. One kid would take one team and the other kid would take the other team. If Texas played Texas A&M (which was the big game in the state since everyone had allegiances to at least one side), every male kid in the school had action. It might have been just a few bucks, but add up all the greenbacks and there were thousands of dollars riding on those games. It was always easy to tell the winners from the losers. The losers were the kids who didn't have lunch money on Monday. The kids ordering three ice cream bars in the school cafeteria were the winners.

Anyway, I recognized that Pittsburgh was the superior team (they were favored) and that everyone in the school was going to root (and bet on) the Cowboys. As difficult as it was to do, I went against my heart and with my head, going around school and taking bets. $1 here. $2 there. Several kids bet $5. A few even bet $10. I forgot the exact amount of money I had riding, but there were at least three dozen kids all on Dallas and I was on the Steelers fading the action and sitting in a great position in terms of value.

Pittsburgh won 21-17.

I collected only about 2/3rds of the money that was owed to me (I was stiffed for the other third) in my first-ever bookmaking operation. I had profited from the game because of my recognition of "value." Had I given up points, I would have lost money. But I understood some simple facts about gambling which would later become the staples of successful handicapping:

1. In general, go against the public's perceptions
2. Always be on the lookout for value
3. Never let your emotional attachment to one side influence your decision

The kicker to the story is that after the Cowboys lost that game, I felt guilty. I vowed never to bet against my beloved Cowboys again (a man has to adhere to SOME principles). I stuck with this dictum until this past NFL season. I went 24 years without wagering on a Dallas Cowboys' game.

1. The second reason why I became involved in sports handicapping ties into the previous point. As a die-hard fan, I could never divorce myself from my emotional attachments. Just like many of you love the Packers, the Yankees, the Canadians, the Lakers or whoever your favorite team is -- I had my favorite players and teams and didn't want to mix "business" with pleasure. Hence, I only bet on games where I had no vested emotional interest (which included lots of pro football, every team in MLB, every team in the NBA, and lots of college sports). There was still plenty of action on the card every single day to find action and look for value.

The turning point for me came gradually. Over the years I observed significant changes in sports -- not only in the way the games were played but in the commitment of the individuals who gave us so many moments of glory. Sports became less of a recreational pastime and more of a business. Some owners abandoned cities and fans. Coaches were hired on day, and were fired the next. Players went to the highest bidder. Even my own favorite teams began taking on an image I did not like nor identify with. Arrests. Drug busts. Arrogance. It was a difficult dilemma -- seeing an institution you believed in and worshipped as a child like the Dallas Cowboys being destroyed single-handedly by greed and incompetence and even by the very people who wore the uniform who were entrusted with the responsibility of the fans to carry the legend to another generation. But to many, it was just an employer and a paycheck.

I finally came to a moment of epiphany one day, when I realized that if players and owners no longer demonstrated allegiances and loyalty to fans and their respective cities, why should I be the dupe and go along with the masquerade? Pay $60 to sit in the nosebleed seats and wave pom poms for a group of players who very well might high-tail it for Cleveland next season? What an idiot I was.

If the Jerry Jones, Bill Bidwells and Art Modells were going to trample on people's emotions and hold cities hostage with bad stadium deals, and players from every team and every league were going to prostitute themselves to the highest bidder, who was the fool for getting "emotionally involved?"

I was.

Accordingly, I made a very clear decision to approach sports the same way a stock investor looks at the NYSE or NASDAQ. It's a business. Nothing more. Nothing less. It's an opportunity for investment. A bet on the San Diego Padres is no different than buying 50 shares of Union Carbide. It's pure speculation. The owners, coaches, and players are nothing but CEOs and overpaid employees of a company. Cogs in the wheel. It's that simple.

The recognition that sports is a business and little else was a sobering prospect, and perhaps even symbolized the end of my innocence. It was finally time to grow up and face the real world. Surprisingly, my passion for gambling on sporting events has enabled me to re-discover the enjoyment of the game, at times. I still revel in the ups and downs, highs and lows of watching a game. But now, there is a big difference. I am no longer the passive bystander just watching. I am a participant. Watching a game and seeing the outcome now AFFIRMS my own intellectual abilities and zest for involvement. It's like playing "Jeopardy" against the people on television -- only for real money. If you are smarter than the public, you win. If you fail, you lose. By virtue of the outcome of a game, you can see if your concepts and methodology are superior to others. That's the charge. That's the excitement.

In this respect, we are all warriors. We take the field of battle together. We handicappers are no different than the athletes that play the games -- aside from strapping on a helmet or carrying a bat.. We get up emotionally for the games. We watch the games with intense interest. We scream for joy when we win, and are disappointed when we lose.

And one more thing -- we both play for money.