HNGN recently sat down for a one-on-one interview with an East Coast-based Bookmaker who takes illegal bets on sporting events. This is part two of a two-part series. You can read the first part, here.
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Like most great stories, the bookmaker didn't simply start out as a bet taker, was not born into the profession by some stroke of dumb, fortuitous, illegal-gambling luck.
At first, he was the one betting, the one chasing the "gambler's high."
"Gambling is one of the biggest addictions. It's as bad as being hooked on drugs," he says, his eyes bright. "I've seen people from all walks of life, I've seen the father who loses everything, I've had friends who lose their ass because of gambling."
The bookmaker, like many in the U.S., grew up with a deep-seated love of athletics. Even then, even as a multi-sport high-school athlete, his interest in sports went beyond playing; even then, he felt the pull of the betting world.
"On the betting side of it, let's say probably late teens, it was simple, $10 bets, $20 and over was a huge bet, and you probably did it on the Super Bowl or Game Seven of the World Series, Stanley Cup, something to that effect," he tells me, from a comfortable, reclined position on his couch, his phone never far from his hand - it's his lifeline, the blood that flows through his bet-taking veins, after all.
The notion, to a non-gambler, may seem ludicrous, but it only highlights the helpless pull, the addictive nature, the intoxicating draw, many of the bookmaker's clients must feel when it comes to their gambling.
The bookmaker's solution, when a client feels the weight of their addiction dragging them nearer the edge, slipping slowly, relentlessly toward nowhere?
Sympathetic texts, a helpful offer to settle; all in the name of keeping the client betting.
"I'll ask them, 'Do you want to settle? Remember you asked me to cap you at this, did you really mean that? I don't want you to get over your head, I know you've got bills or Christmas is coming.'
"Usually I try to talk people into stopping at that point because I don't want them to get down too far because I don't want to lose them. So if I can't stop them from that, I'll settle."
Some people bet with the bookmaker because he gives his honest opinion - and it's an opinion proven right in the long run. People choose to bet with him because he knows what he's talking about and, more importantly, he's willing to share what he knows with the people who bet with him.
It has become a quiet source of pride for him, this second career. He knows the sports and he knows the players. He watches weather forecasts, peruses injury reports, maintains an intimate knowledge of team's histories in certain conditions, certain venues.
"Just by doing this so long and knowing the teams and knowing the different factors that go into it, between weather, injuries...I can probably make lines before they even come out and be 90% accurate," he says.
The bookmaker's operation isn't just about knowledge, about knowing the games and the players and the odds and the lines - it's also about avoiding notice from potentially interested parties.
His is an illegal, back-room world, after all.
So, he does what any smart, self-preserving individual would do - he minimizes loose ends and plays things as close to the vest as possible.
No paper trail. Burner cellphones. Text message conversations that would seem like utter gibberish to the layman.
"I get a text message, and I respond - I try to do it as quick as I can - I reply with a simple, 'in.' This lets the bettor know that I got his bet and it's logged."
No amounts, no dollar signs, just a team and a bet - Pats 50x, Juniata 10x, King's 120x.
"Every couple hours I'll take all the messages and forward them to burner phones. The reason for that is, I'm not afraid of getting caught, it's in case I lose my cellphone," he admits, laughing a little.
"I don't write anything down, ever. People who write things down and keep ledgers, especially ledgers with names and figures and dollar amounts, get caught."
Another of the bookmakers secret's - no meeting spots.
"Around here," he says, "barbershops, car washes, convenience stores, Wal-Mart parking lots - that's what these places are known for. It's almost like a drug deal that you'll see on TV. People who get caught do that kind of stuff."
There are exceptions, but these are built mostly around his own normal life routine.
"Close friends, I have them come to my house. Some of them I've known 15, 20 years, they come to my house, bring their kids over, whatever," he says with a wave of the hand.
He does have a local bar he frequents where he'll have people meet him, but never at the same time or on the same day or on consecutive weeks. And he's got a special deal with the owner - "he uses me sometimes. Not all the time. But he knows what's going on."
The bookmaker is realistic about the stature of his operation. In fact, he views it as a boon to his longevity in the sports betting world.
Because really, that's what his game is about. It's about longevity. It's about lasting. It's about keeping the ball rolling, the tide flowing, the money changing hands and the bets flashing, constantly, across the screen of his phone.
"I don't have a staff that goes around with guns and weapons to collect my thousands of dollars. That's not the case," he says, eyes flitting to his phone, again alight. As he's saying this, his son emerges from the back bedroom, wiping sleep from his eyes and pleading for daddy to let him come lay on the couch.
"I do it with a personal touch too," he says, as he shifts to make room.
