In this epic, 13,000+ word piece, McKay Coppins investigates the massive popularity of sports betting in America, and the havoc it’s wreaking on leagues, athletes, and gamblers and their families. To make sure he had some skin in the game for the story, Coppins struck a deal with The Atlantic: They gave him a stake of $10,000 to bet with, pledging to split any profits with him 50-50. No one could have bet on what happened to Coppins, a practicing Mormon man with four kids “more likely to be found wrestling a toddler into a car seat than scouring moneylines or consulting betting touts.”
I routinely stayed up past midnight scrolling through the apps, my face illuminated in the dark of our bedroom by brightly colored ads for “NO SWEAT BETS” and “SAME GAME PARLAYS.” I impatiently swiped away FanDuel’s “Reality Check” pop-ups, which notified me, in what I took to be a passive-aggressive tone of disapproval, that I was spending quite a lot of time on the platform.
It was now common for my family to catch me furtively tapping in wagers. On one occasion, my 10-year-old son discovered me on my phone in the kitchen pantry, where I’d gone to get snacks for the kids, and announced, “Dad is hiding again!” On another, Annie happened to glance down the pew at church just as I was sneaking a peek at DraftKings. “You’re addicted,” she stage-whispered.
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