Page 82 - Esquire (November 2019)
P. 82

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        twelve years in the military, and I never wanted to get myself into any
        trouble, so I never had a bookie and didn’t do anything illegal. It was
        always in Vegas.” He found Hoboken Terminal and its solid cell ser-
        vice, where he can fulfill a longtime wish without fear of repercussion.
          For others, the convenience is a liability. Earlier, I met Chris,             Sunday
        twenty-eight, a SoundCloud rapper who goes by “Cristo from the
        Bronx.” He’d figured out the way to save the return fare all on his
        own, along with the cell-reception issue at the Jersey City station.
        Now he can come place bets whenever he feels like it, and he feels                      S u n d a y ,   S e p t e m b e r   8
        like it most strongly when his previous bets “are going left.” I ask
        him to explain. If he’s back home, watching a game unfold, and he
        knows he’s losing, “I’m like, Oh, hell no, I’m not trying to lose four
        hundred bucks today. Let me go back and bet it back.”
                                                                                                          DraftKings, New Jersey’s
          Shortly after, I meet Dylan, twenty-nine, a political-campaign                          second-most-popular mobile-betting app,
        operative from upstate New York who shares Chris’s instinct. He’d                                holds a party in Hoboken . . .
        already made the trip to New Jersey earlier in the summer to place
        his NFL bets for the season, but after A.J. Green, wide receiver for
        the Cincinnati Bengals, sustained an injury in training camp, Dylan
        tells me, “I ended up back out here on a Sunday morning to change
        all my bets.” He admits, “I definitely bet more now than before.”
          With the betting scene now legal and regulated, the range of bets
        has expanded. I approach a guy in a neon safety vest who’s furiously
        typing away at his phone. Ahmed, thirty-seven, from Peekskill, New
        York, is on his lunch break and looking to make it big on a parlay, the
        Hail Mary pass of sports bets, in which the gambler picks the win-
        ners of several games. The odds are much lower, so the payouts are
        much higher, which is why local bookies don’t like taking parlays.
        “They don’t want to take that risk,” Ahmed says. “The biggest par-
        lay you could do with a bookie was four teams. The biggest parlay
        you can do with these guys is fifteen.” Ahmed has a magic touch for
        them. “I had a nine-team parlay last year for twelve grand. Two weeks
        after that, I had an eight-team parlay for ten grand.” Lunch hour’s
        nearly over, so he excuses himself to enter his bets, then he’s gone.
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