I’M HONORED that, more and more, people are coming to me when they feel wronged by the sports betting industry. That happened soon after Thanksgiving, when a guy from Chicago claimed he’d been stiffed on a six-figure payout.
His ordeal, which I covered today in The Washington Post, is part of a pattern of abuse playing out across the industry — yet another example of how overwhelmingly the deck is stacked against customers.
Most gamblers assume that when a sportsbook accepts a bet, the agreed-upon odds are set in stone and the company is legally bound to honor them. Not so! Seemingly every sportsbook operating in the U.S. has a clause in its terms and conditions reserving the right to cancel bets when odds or lines offered were an “obvious error,” even long after the game in question took place.
One might ask: If the error was so obvious, why did the bookmaker accept the bet? Sportsbooks, especially those that operate mostly online, are processing way too much action to double check their odds every time someone tries to place a bet. The result is a lot of errors, and a lot of vulnerabilities for opportunistic bettors to try to exploit.
For decades, Nevada sportsbooks have tried to get out of paying bets that result from an overt “fat finger” input screwup, like listing a 50-point favorite as a 50-point underdog. Trying to cash in on that kind of mistake — like trying to buy a TV for the cost of a replacement remote — is pretty indefensible; as one experienced sportsbook official told me, “it’s basically stealing.” But refusing to pay customers who’ve won bets could also be called a form of thievery, especially when the error isn’t so obvious.
As the top gaming regulator in New Jersey told me, some operators are using the “obvious error” clause as an “insurance plan” to compensate for sloppy bookmaking.
Here’s my article:
To my delight, this has been The Post’s most-read story online for much of the day, generating more than 1,000 reader comments. As many of those readers have pointed out, there’s no equivalent mechanism for customers to back out of a bet, whether they wagered more than they intended or were oblivious to some crucial variable affecting a game.
A few days before we published, the sportsbook that spent months refusing to pay the Chicago bettor relented and gave him his $127,400. I don’t take sides when reporting, but I’m happy if The Post’s coverage contributed to this company deciding to pay the guy what he deserved.
Wynnie, meanwhile, maintains that she deserved the smoked tuna I had for lunch.