Nov 19, 2025 | SPORTS BETTING, STORIES
By Saul Malek
Read the original article on the BASIS here.
Editor’s note: This op-ed was prepared by Saul Malek, a professional speaker specializing in gambling addiction prevention and education. Saul developed a gambling addiction as a college sophomore, losing money, time, relationships, and nearly his life. Since entering recovery in 2019, he has become an in-demand speaker, sharing his story with schools (both high school and college), athlete mental health organizations, suicide prevention groups, parent groups, popular news outlets (including the New York Times, National Public Radio, Public Broadcasting Service, and Dallas Morning News). He has keynoted conferences including the Connecticut Council on Problem Gambling annual conference, the Wisconsin Council on Problem Gambling annual conference, and Mental Health America Greater Dallas Adolescent Symposium. He has appeared on Dr. Phil Primetime and was a TedX speaker at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. This op-ed is part of our Special Series on Addiction and Technology, which was funded by a research and consulting contract with DraftKings.
The most popular athletes in 2017 included LeBron James, Tom Brady, and Simone Biles. It was a different star’s name, however, that caught my attention that year- Tatjana Maria, a veteran on the women’s professional tennis circuit.
Sometime during the fall of 2017 Maria was playing in a tournament. Who she played against? I don’t know. Where the tournament was? Couldn’t tell you… I don’t even remember what date the match was on.
What I can tell you, with certainty, is this: I was sitting on the toilet in my college dormitory, preparing for a night out with friends, when- I logged on to my newly created online sportsbook account and saw, to my shock, that I could bet on tennis. Before my bookie created the account for me, I’d text him the games I wanted to bet on. Eventually, he grew tired of the texts and thought of a solution: “I can make you an account online,” he said “where I give you a line of credit and you can bet on whatever you want, whenever you want. At the end of the week we’ll square up through Venmo.” I didn’t know I could text, “Hey, give me $100 on Tatjana Maria!” But now, Tatjana Maria (and the never ending world of online gambling) came to me. I was just getting started. Soon, foreign tennis matches wouldn’t be just a mere bathroom pastime- they became an obsession dominating every moment of my life.
For almost two full years, my entire life revolved around gambling. Full games became live bets on halves, quarters, even individual points. Classes skipped, lies told, sleep lost, money chased.
The strangest thing of all? The progression of my addiction all seemed so normal.
Your Dream Life: One Click Away
You may be thinking, “There’s nothing normal about throwing your life away on obscure tennis bets.” Let me explain.
I didn’t start with obscure tennis bets. My first ever sports bet, in September 2017, when I was 19 years old, was a measly $10 wager on a baseball game.
Winning that bet made me feel like a million bucks. I wanted more. Text the bookie. $20 on a football game that weekend. Hey, I’m not bad at this. I should do this more often. This is like a business, tracking my wins and losses. Bookie sets me up an account online. I can bet on tennis? And darts? Increased betting frequency. No more tracking wins and losses. Larger bets with a higher credit limit. Start losing more frequently. Chase losses with desperate long-shots. Lying. Debt. Loans. Bailouts. Live bets, betting 10 times on the same game. Each action made sense to me in response to the last one (at least, at the time). Only after suffering unbearable consequences could I see how off base I really was.
I take responsibility for my gambling. Yet, at the same time, I can’t help but think that the digital nature of my gambling accelerated my problem.
Firstly, as the Tatjana Maria example illustrates, the digital gambling world exposed me to markets I never would’ve known about. Additionally, the digital gambling universe desensitized me to the value of money. Typing in “500” and clicking “bet” feels a lot less real than counting out $500 in cash and carelessly risking it. Another point: ease of access. My dream world of gambling was only a click away from me at all times. Feeling down? Place a bet. Feeling a confident high? Reach into my pocket and place another bet. No waiting around, no driving to a physical betting shop.
It is easy to feel overwhelmed in the world of digital gambling. However, in my experience, there are also more opportunities than ever to be connected with help.
Getting Your Life Back: One Click Away
I first sought help for my gambling problem in August of 2018, almost a full year before I finally quit gambling. I attended in person Gamblers Anonymous meetings, by far the youngest member at only 20. GA has been a lifesaver for me, I still attend meetings to this day. But in those early, inconsistent days where I was yet to hit a “bottom” in my gambling, the internet is what kept me hanging on.
Reddit played a pivotal role in keeping me connected with others in recovery. Through this online platform, I made close connections on the “problem gambling” subreddit, often with members close in age. Reddit introduced me to Jeff, a prominent voice in gambling harm prevention, who worked to establish Skype (pre-Zoom) meetings for people struggling. Just as the digital gambling landscape was available 24/7, so was my Reddit connection.
Professional help for a gambling problem is not always easy to find. Fortunately, my parents connected me with a therapist specializing in gambling addiction who offered virtual sessions. Visits with this therapist were essential in formulating a payment plan with my creditors, easing pressure that otherwise may have led me back to gambling.
Now professionally involved in gambling harm prevention, I can’t imagine broadcasting my message without the power of the internet. LinkedIn, Instagram, YouTube… all essential. How cool is it to share ideas with prevention specialists in Africa? Very cool… and also possible!
In Closing
Technology, like many tools, can be used or abused. It is important to not only see technology’s downsides, but also the opportunities for prevention, recovery, and treatment that are afforded by the digital gambling landscape. It is practically impossible to avoid digital connection these days- thus individuals should be taught to best maximize their tech use for positive outcomes.
Sep 5, 2025 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, SPORTS BETTING
This article, published in USA Today, provides a great depiction of how young men are immersed in high-risk sports betting.
This article highlights the lack of oversight for the digital environments children access online through the metaverse, certain video games and apps, and emphasizes the challenges parents face in protecting their kids.
Sweepstakes operators rely on the legality of their “promotional contest” model, which requires a free method of entry to preserve their claim to non-gambling status. It’s a gray area that seems very gambling-like, but is not subject to regulatory attention.
This USA Today article (published June 3, 2025) explores the rising crisis of sports betting addiction among young men, particularly college-aged and early adults. It highlights how easily accessible mobile betting platforms, aggressive marketing tactics and features like in-play bets are fueling compulsive gambling, while warning that the U.S. lacks comprehensive treatment infrastructure or national tracking of gambling disorders.
Sep 5, 2025 | PROBLEM GAMBLING, RECOVERY
I’ll never forget the day my manager called me into his office. “I have something to tell you,” he said. “There’s something I need to get off my chest. I have a problem … I owe a lot of money.”
I had a sense he gambled. He had a VIP parking spot at a casino and often talked about the free gifts and fancy dinners they gave him. I figured he went a lot—but I had no idea how deep it really went.
I was shocked to learn it was a gambling addiction. He’s very faith-based, and his father was a minister. I just didn’t expect it.
His disclosure stirred up a lot of emotions. At first, I was kind of mad. Why was he telling me this? Why put me in this position? I felt like I shouldn’t even know. And because part of his job involved overseeing money, I worried—was my paycheck at risk?
Then my thinking shifted: How do I support him without enabling him? And since he was my boss, how do I even navigate that? I felt torn between what was best for me, for him—he was also my friend—and for our employer.
I remember when we were planning a team-building event and he suggested having it take place at a casino. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with that. That wasn’t easy to do, but it felt good to hold that boundary.
Still, I cared about him and wanted to help. I knew I was in over my head, and that he needed more than I could offer. Luckily, I knew someone who had been through addiction recovery himself. He’d always been honest with me about his experience.
My manager was open to meeting him. So the two of us, along with his daughter, met him for coffee. He shared what recovery looked like—offering hope but also reminding him that he had work to do.
Looking back, I realize how powerful it is when people open up and share. My manager’s honesty—and my friend’s willingness to tell his story—really showed me that.
I’m happy to say he’s doing well now. He’s in counseling, attending meetings and has put other safeguards in place.
I’ve learned a lot from this experience. Recovery takes a village—you can’t do it alone, and you can’t be someone’s only support. You can help connect them to resources, but ultimately it’s their road to walk. You didn’t break them, and you can’t fix them.
Boundaries matter. Be kind but firm. And don’t judge. Behind every issue—addiction, depression, narcissism—there’s a deeper wound. The behavior is just a symptom.
In the end, compassion is everything. No one’s perfect. But recovery is real—and it’s a great place to be.
Throughout 2021, rags-to-riches cryptocurrency stories dominated my social media feeds as Bitcoin climbed higher and higher. Everyone seemed to be getting rich while I sat on the sidelines. By November, when Bitcoin reached what was then its all-time high of $68,000, the fear of missing out became unbearable. I kept thinking about that programmer who spent 10,000 Bitcoins on two pizzas back in 2010, a purchase now worth over $1 billion. I didn’t want to be the person who looked back with regret. So I decided to enter the market and purchased Bitcoin for the first time.
I bought at the peak. Within two months, Bitcoin plunged below $40,000 and nearly half my investment vanished. The rational choice would have been to cut my losses, but instead I told myself I wasn’t a day trader chasing quick profits. I was a long-term investor who just needed patience. The crypto community had a term for this strategy: HODL, or hold on for dear life. I convinced myself that’s all I needed to do.
That’s when something unexpected started happening. I began checking the price obsessively, every morning over coffee, during lunch breaks, before bed, at 2 AM when I couldn’t sleep. My heart would race with each price notification. I wasn’t trading anything, just holding, but I had become completely consumed by watching those numbers change.
As a problem gambling researcher, I suddenly saw my own behavior through a different lens. I was experiencing the classic hallmarks of addiction: obsessive monitoring, emotional highs and lows tied to outcomes beyond my control, and the inability to stop despite knowing it had become unhealthy. I wasn’t gambling in the traditional sense, but the psychological experience was identical.
This recognition made me look more carefully at the cryptocurrency landscape around me. I began to see how the elements combined to encourage addictive engagement: markets operating around the clock with no closing bell, extreme volatility generating constant excitement, and a community culture that glorifies risk-taking behavior. I realized I needed to study this phenomenon systematically. My own experience had made me wonder whether this represented a public health blind spot: a large population engaging in potentially harmful behavior with no established framework for recognizing or addressing the risks.
But where to start? Given the psychological parallels between crypto trading and gambling, I decided to examine whether people drawn to cryptocurrency also struggle with gambling problems. I surveyed 700 cryptocurrency traders using the Problem Gambling Severity Index (PGSI), a validated screening tool for assessing gambling-related harm. The results were striking. Only one-third showed no signs of gambling problems. Another third were at risk, and the final third met criteria for problematic gambling. Two-thirds of cryptocurrency traders in my study were experiencing gambling-related harm at some level. This wasn’t a small vulnerable subset but the majority.
But I encountered a challenge in interpreting these findings. The screening tool I used was designed to assess problems with traditional gambling activities like slot machines. When participants answered questions like, “Have you felt that you might have a problem with gambling?” I couldn’t know whether they were thinking only about casino visits or whether some also included their cryptocurrency trading. Someone obsessively checking crypto prices at 2 AM might answer “yes” because they view their trading as gambling, while another person doing the exact same behavior might answer “no” because they see themselves as an investor. This ambiguity meant I couldn’t determine what I was actually measuring: traditional gambling problems among crypto traders, problematic trading behaviors that participants experience as gambling, or some combination of both.
This measurement challenge reflects a broader issue: our research frameworks haven’t kept pace with technologies that blur established categories. Cryptocurrency trading shares the psychological features of gambling but exists somewhere between gambling and investing, and our screening tools weren’t built for this ambiguous territory. Addressing this gap likely requires measuring these behaviors separately. When using traditional gambling screens like the PGSI, researchers could explicitly instruct participants not to include cryptocurrency trading in their responses. We also need screening instruments designed specifically for cryptocurrency trading. With both tools, we could then determine whether problematic trading and gambling are distinct issues that sometimes overlap, or whether they’re different expressions of the same underlying vulnerability.
My own Bitcoin still sits in my wallet today, a reminder of how easily harmful patterns can develop around cryptocurrency and how much work remains in understanding these risks.
