Article
Addiction
Comment
Football
Sport
6 min read

An irresponsible gamble

Out-of-date law and human nature mean sports betting is more than harmless fun – it ruins lives, argues Sam Tomlin.

Sam Tomlin is a Salvation Army officer, leading a local church in Liverpool where he lives with his wife and children.

The edge of a football pitch showing an advertising hoarding with a betting brand name on it.
Lars Schmidt, via Wikimedia Commons.

On 21st April 2021 husband and father of two young children Luke Ashton took his own life. Suicide is the biggest cause of death for men under 50 in the UK, but this suicide had a particular source. As recounted by his widow and now anti-gambling campaigner Annie, Luke developed a gambling disorder linked to his support of Leicester City and football gambling more generally. Getting furloughed in the pandemic exacerbated the problem and he succumbed to aggressive advertising on his smart phone, losing more and more money to the point of despair and no return. 

I am not surprised to hear of stories like Luke’s. That’s because I am a Salvation Army officer. Some may view the pledge to give up all forms of gambling when you join its ranks as archaic and over-the-top, but this insistence by the Salvation Army, which was founded in the 1800’s, was a response to the devastation to lives addiction can cause. Far from being a thing of the past, gambling continues to wreak havoc, especially in poor communities like the one I live and serve in today. I have had personal items stolen and pawned to fund gambling addictions and have heard of people losing thousands of pounds in a few hours.  

Recently our church was part of a local campaign to stop an iconic building from being turned into a cashino, something which we and others in our community knew could have a devastating impact. Thankfully the company withdrew the application, probably because of local opposition, but areas of high socio-economic deprivation like ours are always under such threat. 

If you force young people to endorse addictive products, don’t be surprised if they use them.

I have friends who gamble on sport and tell me it is just harmless fun. It makes the experience more exciting when you have money on it, they say, something sports betting companies focus on in their advertising. While not every gambler is a problem gambler (Public Health England estimates there are 2.2 million who either are problem gamblers or are at risk of addiction), I am not convinced that it is harmless fun for two main reasons. 

Firstly, the risk of ‘harmless’ gambling turning into problem gambling is not adequately managed by UK legislation. The 2005 Gambling Act refers more to gambling by post than online gambling and was passed at a time before smart phones. This legislation, intended to boost the economy through liberalising gambling laws, has allowed sports gambling to spiral out of control; 40% of Premier League clubs are sponsored by a betting company with many more in lower divisions. Concerns have been raised about transparency on behalf of these betting companies and it seems clear that these companies exploit the Premier League’s global profile to reach potential customers in countries like China where gambling advertising is banned. Aston Villa recently responded to a supporter backlash against a new sponsorship deal but made it clear that money talks: for clubs outside the top six (who can attract significantly greater deals), betting firms offer ‘twice as much financially as non-gambling companies.’ 

My team, Bristol City, had a gambling sponsor for many years until this season – although ironically children’s shirts had the sponsor changed in a tacit acknowledgement of potential harm. Hypocrisy in football betting runs much deeper though. Ivan Toney the Brentford striker currently faces a lengthy ban for a breach of the FA’s betting rules, but as The Big Step campaign (led by people harmed by gambling) pointed out – with various pictures of Toney receiving awards and shirts with gambling sponsors on them - ‘If you force young people to endorse addictive products, don’t be surprised if they use them.’ 

It is almost impossible to watch a match on TV without being bombarded with free bet offers and the latest deals with former players enticing fans to gamble their money with a few simple clicks on their phones. One recent study questions whether it is possible to gamble responsibly in an age of smart phones, and outlines significant potential harm even for ‘low and moderate risk gamblers — including relationship problems, being distracted, lost opportunities across work and personal life, secretive behaviours, and a compulsion to open and continually re-engage with the app.’ 

A review of the Gambling Act is currently being carried out, but frustration is growing as publication is delayed. While a blanket prohibition on gambling would neither be practical or desirable, campaigners hope that steps will be taken to restrict gambling advertising in much the same way that advertising for smoking has been banned. The gambling industry cite the contribution gambling brings to the economy, but a report by the Social Market Foundation suggested that tighter regulation could actually boost the economy and in 2016 it was estimated that gambling addiction cost the economy £1.2bn a year. For a society built on an understanding of ‘freedom,’ however, as defined by challenging anything that might hinder our individual wills, gambling may constitute the example par excellence of the confluence of social and economic liberalism. Any significant change to legislation will be hard-won. 

The second reason is that gambling promises more than it can ever actually deliver. This is why it so often ends in harmful addiction – it can never truly satisfy what are ultimately spiritual needs, so it continues to draw you further and further in until you are no longer in control but it controls you. 

There are perhaps three main reasons people gamble: the desire to win money, the social aspect and the thrill or excitement. There is no doubt that gambling offers the possibility of fulfilment, to some degree, for all these things: occasionally people win large sums of money, it can make sport more exciting and help make the social experience more fun. 

We are indeed made for community and the communal enjoyment of sport.

As Christians see it, however, gambling offers an unreliable and ultimately unsatisfying route to fulfilling these desires. The Bible warns us about the love of money and encourages honest work as opposed to chance for earning what we need to live It also points to the importance of charity and justice for those who do not have enough. We are made for community and the communal enjoyment of sport is a gift from God (as I have written about in the past). It is perfectly possible, however, to enjoy sport without gambling – really supporting and following a team or player comes with enough ups and downs to produce a wide range of emotions; I have cried, bitten my nails, hidden my head in my hands and hugged random strangers often during one single game. It could be argued that even non-problem gambling contributes to fund an industry that demonstrably preys on vulnerable people, failing the command to love our neighbour. 

We are also created to experience thrill and excitement beyond the mundane aspects of everyday life, but the greatest drama according to the Christian faith is found in being caught up in God’s redemption of the world, ‘reconciling all things to himself’ as we read in the New Testament. As many Christians will testify – even the most exciting Hollywood film is a pale imitation of the excitement and drama of giving up your life to follow the way of Jesus, and this is certainly true of the fleeting and temporary thrills experienced through gambling. 

Unlike some religions which want to supress desire, the Christian faith affirms desire as a good thing. The question is, what our desire is aimed at. Augustine once said that our hearts are restless until they find rest in God. Created things or activities like sex, possessions, money or experiences are good when enjoyed in the right context, but when – like with gambling - they promise more than they can deliver, more often than not it ends in dissatisfaction and potentially even disaster as Luke Ashton’s story tragically demonstrates.  

Review
Books
Character
Culture
Football
3 min read

This football autobiography deserves its status as a Sunday Times bestseller

A refreshingly honest confession from Big Dunc

Henry Corbett, a vicar in Liverpool and chaplain to Everton Football Club.  

  

A footballer is interviewed on the side line.
Ferguson at Everton.
Pete from Liverpool, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Duncan Ferguson was sent off as a Premier League player for Everton eight times. On his own admission he drank too much alcohol, misspent his earnings to the extent that he had to declare himself bankrupt, and deeply regretted holding a grudge against the Scottish Football Association that meant he only played seven times for Scotland. By following his father’s advice to “throw the first punch” he ended up in Barlinnie prison.  

Confessing those mistakes in his new autobiography, Big Dunc, makes for a compelling read. It’s not surprising that the book has topped the Sunday Times best seller list for weeks and sits front and centre at Waterstones in Liverpool. Ferguson – who played for Dundee United, Glasgow Rangers, Everton, Newcastle and Scotland - is brave with his admissions. Not many autobiographies would be so honest. And confession has been good for sales. 

But then, honest confession has always made a good story. A glance through the Gospels and Paul’s letters shows the apostles Peter and Paul being very willing to confess their faults. Peter is told “Get behind me, Satan” by Jesus. He impulsively cuts off a servant’s ear. He denies knowing Jesus to an inquiring bystander. Immature, daft, and actions he later regrets, yes. The apostle Paul calls himself the “chief of sinners.” He confesses to persecuting zealously the Church before his conversion. Autobiographies that confess to mistakes, weaknesses and shortcomings are far more helpful – and relatable - than those that seek to airbrush any such blunders out of the picture. It helps, of course, if you also scored 106 goals in 360 appearances.  

Just as appealing is the fact that the book is also about change and reconciliation. These days, Ferguson is off the alcohol. “I wanted to be a better person, a better father,” he writes. He has coached young players back at Everton and seeks to help them avoid the mistakes he made. His father’s advice to be loyal was good advice that he followed. He has taken on two very difficult manager’s jobs. He has apologised to people he had fallen out with; relationships have been healed and a fresh start offered. 

Big Dunc is also a love story - in fact two love stories. The first is with Everton and the Everton supporters. Even in his wildest, most regretted moments, Ferguson connected with his fans. When he was in Barlinnie prison for 44 days he received around 10,000 letters from Evertonians and he tried to reply to them all. If he was ever in a Liverpool pub or club he would enjoy the company of fans. Whether he was visiting Alder Hey Children’s hospital, a youth club, or a supporter he’d heard was in need, he was always up for a photo or an autograph. His treatment by the authorities, whether the law in sending him to prison, or the Scottish FA in banning him for more matches, struck a chord with Evertonians who also knew about injustices in life. And he was a centre forward, a number 9, and supporters love a centre forward who leads the line, scores goals and wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he does maddeningly get sent off and too often carried an injury not always unrelated to lifestyle. 

The second love story is between Ferguson and his wife Janine and their three children. “They saved me”, he writes. The book ends with “Take care, God bless, Dunk” and then this acknowledgement: “Thank you to my wife, kids and family for putting up with me and for supporting me through the good times and the bad times. I love you all.”  

So there is a positive ending. Honest confession, change, reconciliation, love and a good ending. It deserves to be a bestseller.  

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