Bloomberg Businessweek January 27, 2020PHOTOGRAPH
BY
CHRISTOPHER
LEAMAN
FOR
BLOOMBERG
BUSINESSWEEK
49(Yes.)WouldI findmyselffranticallyscrollingthroughmy
phonefora bookiethatwouldgivemeunder 47 ontheBelk
Bowl?(Yes.)Wouldit beanyfun?(Doyoulikespreadsheets?)
Forallofsportsbetting’sprogresstowardlegitimacy,hand-
icappersretaina reputationsomewherebetweenpersonal
injurylawyersandpawnshops.Throughouttheyears,touts
havegonefromsellingpicksbynewsletter,to1-900numbers,
totheinternet.Twitteris fullofaccountsthatofferpicks,as
areSnapchatandInstagram.Scamsabound.Inonecommon
one,toutstellhalfoftheircustomerstotakeonesideofa bet
andrecommendtheoppositebettotheotherhalf—andthen,
forthehalfthatwins,repeattheprocessuntila smallgroup
ofcustomersthinkthetoutis infallible.
Oneofthemorefamoushandicappersis DavidOancea,aka
“VegasDave.”Knownfora seriesoflong-shotwinners,Oancea
hasa sports“consulting”firmthatsellspicksforhundredsof
dollarseach.In 2017 hewasindictedon 19 felonycountsstem-
mingfromtheallegeduseofotherpeople’sSocialSecurity
numberstoopengamblingaccountsinNevada.Hepleaded
guiltytoa misdemeanorforfalsifyingrecordslastyear,agreed
toforfeitmorethan$550,000,andwasbannedfromLasVegas
sportsbooksforthreeyears.He’sstillsellingpicks.“I
f I wasontheoutsidelookingatme,I’munbelievably
skeptical,”saysJambosfounderMichaelSchwimer,
a formerreliefpitcherforthePhiladelphiaPhillies
anda regularguestonESPN’sgamblingshow,DailyWager.
WhenhelaunchedJambosfromBethesda,Md.,Schwimer
promisedit wouldbedifferent.It wouldpublisha recordofits
time-stampedpicksandpayrefunds,plusmore,whenitsadvice
didn’tpanout.It coulddosobecauseit had$23million from
backers including Bill Miller, founder of Miller Value Partners,
and former Goldman Sachs & Co. partner Steve Duncker.
To lead the Jambos life (legally), I stayed in New Jersey,
where I live, for seven days. New Jersey
happens to be the state that broke
Nevada’s stranglehold on sports gam-
bling. In 2011 it challenged the federal
law that barred other states from enter-
ing the market, and seven years later it
won. New Jersey now vies with Nevada
for the title of biggest betting state in
the U.S. In December, according to New
Jersey gaming regulators, bettors laid
more than $550 million in wagers with
more than a dozen operators.
A couple of days before my Jambos
subscription began, I put $150 each
in accounts with three sportsbooks:
DraftKings, FanDuel, and Caesars
Casino. The bets offered aren’t the
same at every book, and I wanted to
have options. Jambos recommends
that subscribers wager about $300 per
pick. At roughly 100 picks per week, thatwould require a bankroll of at least a few thousand dollars,
depending on how my early bets panned out. I didn’t have the
stomach to front that, even with Businessweek’s backing, so
I decided to place $30 bets and multiply by 10 when it came
time to assess the results.
On Day 1, the Jambos alert email went to my spam folder. I
didn’t see it until almost noon, at which time I’d scheduled a
haircut. Two picks were for games starting in minutes. Before
I got in the barber’s chair, I laid a bet with DraftKings—that
Florida State’s men’s basketball team would beat Georgia
Tech by at least 11.5 points—but the line for the Belk Bowl had
moved. Jambos said to bet under 47 points total for the game,
but I was seeing only offers at 46.5, so I didn’t make the bet. Of
the 13 picks that day, I wagered on 6. For the others, I couldn’t
find the numbers that Jambos suggested because bookmakers
were offering either different lines or different odds.
On most wagers, sportsbooks take a small cut of winnings.
The size varies according to the odds. The standard at most
books is that a bettor needs to wager $110 to win $100, com-
monly expressed as “-110.” But prices vary from book to book
and bet to bet. In some cases, I passed up bets because the
odds offered were considerably worse than what Jambos sug-
gested. My low success rate was mostly my fault. I was search-
ing for some bets more than an hour after the picks had posted.
Hopping between apps and frantically scrolling through num-
bers, I may have missed some opportunities to bet.
Yet my struggle was indicative of a fundamental problem
with handicapping. Betting markets are fluid. If more money
comes in on one side of a bet than the other, especially if it’s
from “sharp” bettors who have a history of winning, books
adjust their lines and/or odds. They tend to move together, but
not always, and not in lockstep. The more successful Jambos
became, in other words, the harder it would be for subscrib-
ers to make money with the service.
On Day 2, I was more prepared. I
stuck to the Jambos line, but I was more
flexible on odds. If Jambos said to bet -110
and I saw the same bet offered at -115, I
took it. There were five picks, and I bet
all of them within 20 minutes of posting.
My bumbling the day before had turned
out to be fortunate: Five of the six bets
that I made were winners. The seven
that I didn’t make were all losers. So I
was 5-for-6 on the day, but Jambos was
5-for-13. It was a tiny sample size, but it
also made me wonder if there was any
method to this madness.
I couldn’t begin to say how Jambos
decided that Georgia would beat Baylor
by at least four points in the Sugar Bowl.
An algorithm, presumably, had taken in
reams of data from past college football
games and spit out that result. Schwimer
Schwimer isn’t much more helpful. “It is so much