This Is the Golden Age of Losing Your Money
Why do we need so many sports betting apps?
The commercials that air during the NFL playoffs tend to celebrate action, although it is not always clear what these actions are about. Broken concrete splashes heavily into the bed of the all-new Ford F-150 for an unspecified reason—and its front grille is designed to look like the face of a glowering policeman for a very specific reason. People in pharmaceutical commercials are exceedingly excited to show up to a party while someone recites a list of increasingly alarming side effects in voiceover, and the juxtaposition remains an unresolved plot hole. These ads are a nice gesture, given that they’re made to be viewed by people who are slumped in undignified positions most commonly associated with fat house cats. “This seems to be your thing,” the ads say to me as I discover, one hour later, that a pristine Cool Ranch Dorito chip has been resting on my upper abdomen for an unknown amount of time. I sit perfectly still as the sun goes down outside, watching dusty men use their oversized trucks to tow inexplicably massive objects and think, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY MY SHIT.
Add enough of this sort of thing up over the course of a day watching the NFL playoffs and it can’t help but have an effect. Sure, enough still shots and side pans of bright, heavy, and frankly confusing fast-food items will tempt me into indulging in an avante-garde flatbread or standard-issue panini or large-format Italian sandwich available in my neighborhood. I resist a drunken impulse sandwich for longer than seems possible, not because it isn’t something I want to eat—I love sandwiches—but because the salivary impulses triggered by these commercials must be resisted; I’m an advertising copywriter, after all, and it would be quite embarrassing to be victimized by my own familiar hijinks. The universe will provide me munchies at the appropriate time, and no sooner.
Even as the persnickety higher-order parts of my brain began editorializing how nonsensical it is to glorify a “pastrami calzone,” it seemed to finally register that we are living in the golden age of losing money while watching sports. Marijuana has been legalized in almost half of the U.S. and all of Canada, and there is still a stigma—or a ban—around weed commercials, and yet, I have never seen so many betting apps in my life. ESPN lets another company use its branding for a sports betting app, and they are the journalists that cover sports. Imagine visiting a doctor, and they just diagnosed you with cancer and informed you that you have a 50/50 chance of living, and then added that if you place a $10 ticket on surviving, they could pay out a profit of $9.80. Oh, wait… that’s just called private health insurance.
These commercials are obviously and deliriously irresponsible, but they also paint an unrealistic picture. They typically open with a group of people celebrating at a party before the following message arrives: Deposit $5 and get $1,500 in bonus bets. But here’s a 1-800 number if it’s not going well. Please call that number if you’re spending a little too much time on our app.
The advertising industry prides itself on having its finger on the pulse of current trends, comprised of creatives who, in their self-regard, are pop culture connoisseurs. Living up to this lofty self-branding would involve us pushing ourselves to create a more R E L A T A B L E setting for these types of commercials:
We open in an apartment living room.
An athletic-looking late-20s male is sitting on a couch, silently looking at his phone, looking up at the score on TV. His girlfriend enters the frame from another room and stands just to the side of the TV.
Girlfriend: “Did you put money on the game?
Boyfriend: “Not much…”
Girlfriend: “Are you losing?”
Boyfriend: “It all… it all come out even… It’s a wash…”
Girlfriend: “Seriously, how much did you bet?”
Boyfriend: “…uh, $500.”
Girlfriend: “What the actual fuck?? That was supposed to pay for our anniversary dinner next Saturday!”
Boyfriend: “I’m sorry, babe! The Chiefs were a lock to cover this week!”
The girlfriend storms out of the room while the boyfriend haplessly chases after her. We close with a still shot of an empty apartment room in the glow of a flickering TV.
A super arrives: “DraftKings. The #1 app for ruining all trust and confidence between you and your signifigant other.”
i play the stock market like a good old fashioned sucker!
Maybe if advertising commercials, all product journalism really, started telling it like it is, people would get their shit together and stop living in a goddamn fantasy. But don't bet on it!!!!