1-900-RIPOFFS The ads for call-in services that offer sure-thing betting advice on the big games couldn't be more tempting. Our own hot tip: Don't touch that phone by RICK REILLY

1-900-RIPOFFS The ads for call-in services that offer sure-thing betting advice on the big games couldn't be more tempting. Our own hot tip: Don't touch that phone
by RICK REILLY

© 2014 Time Inc. All Rights Reserved.
The Vault

Originally Posted: November 18, 1991
More

MEET JACK PRICE. HE'S HERE TO BURY YOUR BOOKMAKER. HE ONCE
promised to blow his brains out if the football predictions he gave
out to customers of his gambling-advice phone line were wrong. They
were, but he and his brains are still with us. Meet Ron Bash, a.k.a.
the Coach. He is here to pound your bookie. His ads say he took his
team to the Final Four. Did he mention that the Final Four he took
them to was in Division III? Meet Kevin Duffy. He once bragged in a
New York Daily News ad, ''I'm coming off a great weekend & as usual,
all my customers crushed ((their)) bookmakers.'' Too bad the ad was
delivered to the News's offices before any of the games were played.

In a world of cheats, cons, grifters, swindlers, carnival barkers
and people you would not want to change your fifty, the brotherhood
of so-called sports advisers is a gutter unto itself. Consider the
service that told its clients that because of a late change in the
weather, they should bet the Kansas City Chiefs that day. Only
problem -- as Phil Mushnick pointed out in his New York Post column
-- was that the Chiefs were playing in Seattle, indoors. Or consider
Final Score Sports, a nationally advertised service that once picked
the Cleveland Browns to beat the Cincinnati Bengals on a Monday
night. Unfortunately, the game was the Denver Broncos at the Buffalo
Bills. Then there was the guy whose ad listed his brilliant 10-year
record for Monday Night Football. Oddly, he had been in business for
only five.
This is an industry in which duplicity is the leading economic
indicator. It is also a business in which profits can be enormous --
some services are believed by at least one close observer of the
industry to make as much as $1 million annually. Last year the
people at the New York City Department of Consumer Affairs looked
into the advertising practices of the sports-adviser business and
came away with their hair on end. ''These have been among the most
egregious, outrageous claims we've ever encountered,'' says a
department attorney, Fred Cantor.
The idea of sports advisers seems square enough. For a fee of
about $300 a month, you call a guy who's really in the know about
sports -- particularly football -- on his 800 number, and he tells
you whom to bet on and how much to wager. Or you ring his 900 line,
and for about $10 to $50 per call, he'll give you -- most often in a
recorded announcement -- the one or two games that weekend on which
he thinks you can make a score. The average gambler could use a leg
up, right?
Not this kind. SI took a two-month test drive through the world of
sports- advisory services and found misleading ads,
bait-and-switches, repeated claims of fixes coming down,
misrepresentation of records, unforgivably high- pressured sales
techniques, phone harassment, phone threats, phony guarantees, mail
fraud, wire fraud and some perfectly dreadful manners. Even the
pictures lied. One man was shown in ads to be both Mountain Man Obie
(''the legend who broke the bank at Tiajuana ((sic))'') and Mike
Zimbo (''the most feared name in Vegas''). Two years ago the Lombardi
Sports Wire, a handicapping service based in Oceanside, N.Y., sent
out different letters to two groups of its customers. One group was
urged to take Pitt over Notre Dame in a ''blowout,'' and the other
was urged to take Notre Dame over Pitt in a ''blow out.'' Apparently
Lombardi felt strongly both ways.
Splitting games 50-50 like that -- known in the biz as
''double-siding'' -- is the oldest trick in the handicapper's very
thick book. That way he knows he has at least some happy customers
coming back. The second-oldest trick is to have one of your services
try to sign up customers who haven't been doing well with another of
your services. Why not, when the same guy owns both?
Then there was the salesman trying to hawk the Professor's Picks
who told us, ''We'll have a Play of the Year for you every three or
four weeks.'' Oops!
These touts, who are largely unregulated, try to come off as near
clairvoyants who routinely hit 75% to 90% of the games on their
lists. But the honest handicappers who allow themselves to be
monitored independently are lucky to break 52.38%, which, with a
bookie's 10% commission on losses, is the break-even point for the
gamblers. The touts call themselves Bobby Cash, Edmund Slick, the
Swami, Dr. Bob, Action Man, Bill (Get) Wells and Bob Winsmore. Very
few names, as you may have gathered, are real. The services claim to
have the latest in computer and satellite technology, as well as
inside info from a sprawling network of scouts, trainers (Jeff Allen
Sports claimed to have ''200 trainers on our payroll''), reporters,
traveling secretaries, coaches and even athletes. In reality, what
they usually have are six salesmen in a 10 X 12 office working banks
of phones while the boss sits with the Gold Sheet on his lap, a hole
in his shoe and a wild guess on his mind. Most advisers have no
computer, no satellite, no sources and no more of a clue about whom
to pick in tonight's game than your uncle Wolfgang.
''I remember once a guy needed a bailout game real bad,'' says a
former salesman for a major tout operating out of New York City. ''He
was buried, so he wanted to put two or three dimes (($2,000 or
$3,000)) down on something good. I said I had a lock for him. I put
him on hold, and I went into my boss's office and I said, 'Who do you
want to pick, the Jets or Minnesota?' And he said, 'Take Minnesota.
My mom likes purple.' So I gave this poor sucker Minnesota based on
some lady's favorite color. He lost.''
Ripoffs Rule the Roost, Exhibit A: the Professor's
seven-days-a-week 900 Econ-O-Phone. For only $2 for the first minute
and $1 for every minute after that, the Professor (Ed Horowitz, a
49-year-old former cocaine addict who claims he taught a course in
taxation one year, part-time, at the New York City campus of Pace
University) promises to give his ''essential'' selections. We tried
it. For the first seven minutes, we heard a tape of the Professor --
who babbled like a man at a podium looking for his notes -- plugging
his other phone lines and dispersing bits of gambling theory that
never quite went anywhere. Finally, he came to the pick we'd paid
for. Guess what it was -- the New York Jets vs. Chicago Bears game
from two nights before. He urged us to take the high side of the
over-under (38); the total score of the game was 32 (Chicago won
19-13). It is not a good sign when you are picking games two days
late and still screwing them up.
SI: I have a complaint.
Professor's operator: So call the complaint department.
SI: I called the Econ-O-Phone. It gave me the Jets and the Bears.
Operator: So, who'd he give you?
SI: It doesn't matter. The game was played Monday. Today is
Wednesday.
Operator: Oh. Has this ever happened to you before?
SI: No, this was the first time I ever used it.
Operator: What game did you want?
SI: I don't know. Just seeing what he said about baseball.
Operator: We're concentrating on football now. Call back tomorrow
night.
SI: But the ad says the deal operates seven days a week.
Operator: How much do you think you spent?
SI: Eight dollars.
Operator: You'll live.
Click.
Maybe the Professor has been distracted lately. On April 11, he
was arrested in New York City on charges of possessing gambling
records, a felony. The Professor plea-bargained down to a $5,000 fine
and a misdemeanor conviction. Police who raided his Queens office at
the time of his arrest did not mention finding a complaint
department.
Ripoffs Rule the Roost, Exhibit B: The Source, a sports-adviser
service in Farmingdale, N.Y., owned by Stu Feiner, who also owns a
few 900 call-in lines. Exhibit C is Feiner's brother-in-law, the
aforementioned Kevin Duffy, perhaps the nation's most prominent
adviser, who became famous for running ads that said, ''I will go 7-0
for you today, absolutely free.'' Too bad ''absolutely free'' meant
you first had to sign up for a month's service at $350. Then, if
Duffy didn't go 7-0 in the first week, you got the next month free.
Duffy, who operates out of Massapequa, Long Island, also claimed to
be no worse than 75% right, ever. Yet when his picks were audited by
the Sports Monitor of Oklahoma City, one of the rare legitimate
monitors (among the dozens of such outfits that purport to keep tabs
on the performance of tout services), he never fared better than
58.8% in any regular football season between 1985 and '88, and he
sank as low as 39.7% for his college picks in '87. Eventually the
Sports Monitor refused to monitor Duffy because of his ''deceptive ad
practices.''
Feiner agreed to be monitored by SI for four weeks in September.
To his credit, he unfailingly gave us his choices. To his discredit,
Feiner went 19-32, a 37% win rate, and lost us an imaginary $6,210
based on $100 per unit (box, left). During that same period, we were
anonymously calling Feiner's 800 number, where, curiously, he claimed
to be cleaning up. On Sept. 23, for instance, after Feiner had gone
3-11 for the week on his picks for SI, bringing his record for us
to 11-25, one of his shills, Kenny Leeds, said in response to our
anonymous call, ''This week I ((meaning the company)) went 3-0, the
week before, I was 3-1.'' On Oct. 3, after Feiner had gone 7-7 for
the weekend, we again called anonymously and got another Feiner
salesman, Larry Marco. ''This past weekend, we swept the board,''
Marco said. Then Leeds called back. ''This kid Feiner is making
betting history,'' he said. Yeah, so did Art Schlichter.
Feiner was fined $13,000 in February 1990 by the New York City
Department of Consumer Affairs for false and misleading advertising,
yet he sent out a promotional brochure last month that reported a
''1991 documented record college and pro: 9-3.'' Knowing Feiner's
record as we did, we asked him how he could say this. ''That's what I
had the first week,'' he said, ''before you started documenting me.''
Fine. That would've been the weekend of Aug. 31- Sept. 2. The
booklet, however, was dated Sept. 19-Oct. 7, 1991.
During one of our anonymous calls, Leeds told us he had ''strong
information'' on a game he wanted us to buy, so strong it was a dead
mortal lock, so strong that he was putting $2,000 of his own money on
the game. We were dubious.
Leeds: You don't believe me? I'll fly you out here ((from
Colorado)).
SI: Fly me out there?
Leeds: I'll fly you to -- -- Long Island, and I'll have you take a
ride with me!
SI: Why?
Leeds: To see how I pick it ((his winnings)) up and where I pick
it up from.
SI: Can you fly me out this week?
Leeds: What I'm saying is . . . I'm using -- that's a little bit
of a mild exaggeration. Don't get me wrong, but I've met a lot of my
clients. I've met Dan Marino.
SI: You know Dan Marino?
Leeds: Well, I stood next to him at the Super Bowl, and my friend
took my picture with him.

Other than suffering the repercussions of having your home
telephone number sold to dozens of other advisers, other than sitting
through the constant pitches to pay for ''special information games''
or ''steam plays of the year,'' other than getting con calls from the
very same service claiming to be another service that heard you were
looking for somebody new, you'll find dealing with 800 phone services
is a real treat. True, Mike Warren, a nationally marketed Baltimore
handicapper (whose real name is Mike Lasky), went 12-4 over the four
weeks we purchased his picks, but before he would give . us even one
game, his salesmen bugged us to buy into bigger packages. One day it
was the ''once in a lifetime pick-six extravaganza.''
SI: You mean none of our games is in your top six?
Warren salesman: No, you're getting about the eighth-best pick.
SI: How fair is that?
Salesman: You get what you pay for.
Feiner says that if somebody calls his 800 number and doesn't sign
up, ''We'll call him every day for a couple months, because
eventually they'll change their minds.''
At least with a 900 number you don't have to leave your home
number and be subjected to callbacks from hard-selling touts. But
since setting up a 900 service takes only a couple of thousand
dollars, tops, and requires almost no overhead, and since no license
or education is required, and since almost nobody's cracking down on
misleading ads, just about anybody can get into the business. ''I
look at the papers and tout sheets,'' says Jimmy (the Greek) Snyder.
''Every son of a bitch and his brother is in there. I don't want to
be one of them.'' Of course, the Greek was one until last year, when
Warren, who paid Snyder to use his name and picks, chose not to pick
up his option. Snyder is now threatening to sue Warren over the terms
of termination of the contract. Warren calls Snyder ''the most
unprofessional guy I ever worked with.''
That's funny. Some people say the same thing about Warren. Two
former Warren employees told SI that during their tenure with him
they received ''hundreds'' of letters from customers complaining of
unauthorized charges of $50 and $75 made by Warren's company on their
credit cards in late 1987 and early '88. Such phony charges can be
challenged by a simple phone call to the credit-card company, but
gamblers are reluctant to draw attention to their gambling
activities. Besides, said one of the ex-employees, ''Warren probably
figured that gamblers wouldn't notice an extra charge.'' Both sources
say they confronted Warren about the charges and were threatened by
him. Both then quit. Warren wholly denies their claims. ''There's
never been a complaint about that by a customer,'' Warren says.
''Mike Warren is a pathetic handicapper and a tremendous con
artist,'' says Feiner. Says Warren, ''Stu Feiner? He's got a big
mouth, always talking big. He knows this hoodlum and that hoodlum --
gonna break my legs. You know what? He can't break an egg. I gave him
my address. He's so short, the only thing he can reach is my legs.''

If you think guys like Feiner and Warren will make you wish you
had never installed your phone, Atlanta's John L. Edens, alias Johnny
DeMarco, the Babe Ruth of 900 sales pitchers, will make you wish
Alexander Graham Bell had never been born. According to published ads
and taped phone calls, Edens:
-- Got on his 800 line and told listeners to call his 900 line for
$25, ''and if the game loses, there'll be no charge.'' That, of
course, is a lie. Once a call is made on a 900 line, the charge is
automatic.
-- Told customers of one of his phone services that his special
guest-selector that day was ''a former six-time NBA basketball
All-Star who wishes to remain anonymous due to security matters.''
The anonymous ''All-Star'' then got on the line and offered his
inside information on ''three big plays, tonight.''
-- Told his customers on another occasion, ''Sporting Illustrated
magazine calls the Handicapping Hotline the Number One value in
sports.'' Remarkably, there is no Sporting Illustrated.
-- Wrote in a print ad, which appeared in the schedule of games he
sent out to customers in early 1991, that his service was rated ''the
very best available by the Interstate Sports Commission, the nation's
only legitimate monitoring service.'' The ad failed to mention that
the ISC is owned by a company with which, DeMarco acknowledges, he is
''affiliated.''
-- Got on his 800 line in March 1989 and said he had spoken with
then N.C. State coach Jim Valvano and had ''key'' information on the
Final Four. Valvano says he has never spoken to DeMarco.
Luckily for all of us, DeMarco/Edens has good intentions.
''O.K.,'' he says, ''so you go berserk on your ads -- and some of
those ads are a little ridiculous -- but if you can get people under
your belt, you can help them more than you hurt them. Most gamblers
are losers. You slow the guy down so he's only betting a couple of
games, not the whole board.'' Hey, if this guy made a hole in one,
he'd probably write down a zero.
Still, sports touts are an incredibly gracious and generous group.
Just about every weekend they hear about fixes that are going down
and are more than willing to share this precious information with you
-- for a small charge. Salesmen for now-defunct Metro Sports, a New
York-based service, actually had a fix written into a typed script
that salesmen would use on the phone. It read: ''I'm glad I got ahold
of you in time! We are releasing our biggest information game of the
-- -- (month/season) going off -- -- (day of | week). . . . Now, --
-- (name), listen carefully. Our inside sources have tipped us off to
this game. We know exactly what's going to happen. We know the
winner. (Lower voice) It's the kind of game I can't even talk about
over the phone -- you follow me, right? (Response) O.K. Good. . . .
All you gotta do is cover me with $ -- -- . How do you do it, Visa or
MasterCard?''
The fix scam is essential to a tout's repertoire. ''You'd lower
your voice way down,'' says one employee who worked for Duffy for
four years, ''and you'd say, 'Is this line clean? No taps on it,
right? O.K. Listen, we've got information on this game. You know what
I'm saying? The winner of this game was already decided in a hotel
room.''
Although SI paid $275 to sign up anonymously with Linemasters,
whose figurehead is the Coach, Ron Bash, we found out very quickly
that the $275 didn't cover every game the Coach had ''information''
on. The day after we signed up, our so-called personal
representative, Mike Vela, called to say Linemasters had paid
$300,000 for information from ''people like you read about. . . .
This game is a lock. An absolute lock.'' Vela said he was putting the
Coach himself on the line.
Bash: Look, this is not a game that might win. This is a game that
should win. This is a game that is going to win. I know something,
between you and me, that I shouldn't know. I don't even like to say
over the phone what I know. Even the alums of this school are going
to be pounding the other side.
SI: I don't know.
Bash: Look, you're crazy if you don't bet five dimes (($5,000)) on
this game. It's like stepping over an envelope full of money with
your name on it. Send us a nickel (($500)). I have people putting 20,
30 dimes for this game. Milton Berle put six dimes on this game. Hey,
you don't get many of these games in life.''
SI: You had one of these last week.
After we didn't buy in, Linemasters didn't like us as much. Vela
would make us call at least twice to get our picks, sometimes three
times. One day he made us hold for 10 minutes. We finally hung up. We
called back and left a message. No callback. Called again. Held 10
more minutes. Hung up. Called again.
Vela: Hello.
SI: Geez, it's not easy getting ahold of you.
Vela: Excuse me? I called you, and your line was busy. I don't
have time to call busy numbers.
SI: Hey, I don't have time to sit on hold for 20 minutes either.
Vela: Call back with a better attitude.
Click.
We called back. Our collar was starting to shrink.
Vela: Hello.
SI: Hey, let's get one thing straight. You work for me. I paid you.
Vela: Excuse me?
SI: I paid you.
Vela: Call me with a better attitude.
SI: No, don't hang up. Just give me the picks.
Click.
We called back again.
Vela: Hello.
SI: Just give me my picks.
Vela: Maybe if you get lucky today, you'll fall and you'll trip,
hit your head and open your -- -- eyes and realize someone's trying
to help you. You're too -- -- stupid to realize that now.
SI: Thanks a lot.
Vela: Take Syracuse, plus nine. Somebody's got to make you see
reality. So maybe I got to abuse you a little to make you open your
eyes.
SI: I don't need abuse.
Vela: Call me back at 6:30.
Click.
Linemasters went a respectable 11-8 (58%) on pro and college
football for us and threw in all the abuse at no additional charge.
Not that the abuse we got from Linemasters was at all uncommon.
Abusing customers is SOP among sports advisers. ''Gamblers are
desperate people,'' says Arnie Wexler, executive director of the
Council on Compulsive Gambling of New Jersey.
In investigating Feiner's tactics, an inspector for the Consumer
Affairs Department called one of Feiner's 800 numbers to take him up
on an offer of a free line on a game during the '89 football season.
The investigator spoke with a man known as Sonny Greco, also known as
Phil Bonvino, a salesman for Stu Mitchell's Locker Room Report, still
another service owned by Feiner. After a breathless, oath-laden,
pause-free speech, Greco went for the close. His pace was furious.
The detective, posing as a customer named Stan, balked. Greco
screamed louder.
Stan: I'm being bombarded here. Lemme think on it. I got a lot of
guarantees here.
Sonny: I'm not interested in anybody else you're calling, Stan!
The difference here is this, O.K? We own this game tonight on
over-under! We own this information. Now go get your credit card, and
let's start making money! You don't need to deal with anybody but me!

Stan: Wait. . . .
Sonny: I own this game in over-under! I have the winner! Tonight!
Now what's your credit-card number?
Stan: O.K., lemme get back to you.
Sonny: Stan, you're not going to call me back! You know it as well
as I do, and if you think I'm going to let you off the phone with
that -- -- , you're crazy! O.K.? I've got the winner tonight! I own
this game in over-under, and I'm going to own your bookmaker's ass!
So get your credit card out and let's get going!
Stan: Lemme tell you what we're gonna do. I'm gonna think about it.
Sonny (louder still): Stan, there's nothing to think about!
Click.
Greco is ruthless, loud and scary. No wonder Feiner has given him
his own sports service -- Phil Bonvino's Locker Room Report.

Says a former phone tout for a large Long Island service, ''There
were plenty of times when we'd tell a guy, 'Look, if you don't come
across, I'm gonna tell your wife you're gambling again.' Or we'd tell
high school kids that we were going to tell their parents.'' Says the
ex-salesman for Kevin Duffy, ''We'd call up anybody, even guys we
knew were going to Gamblers Anonymous. We'd stay on them.''
Question: How do sports advisers get away with it? Better
question: Who are customers supposed to complain to? Gamblers don't
want to turn anybody in because most of them are breaking the law
themselves. As a result, the touts go unpoliced.
That may explain what happened in Lauderdale-by-the-Sea, Fla. A
tout service working under the names Seasons Edge and W.D.L. ((We
Don't Lose)) Sports, among others, would promise to repay gamblers
any losses they had with their bookies as a result of bad advice. But
according to a grand jury indictment handed down in Atlanta, when the
gamblers would call for their refunds, the story would change; the
salesman would say, ''Oh, you just had the partial subscription
package. If you just send me the difference between your package and
the full-season price, we'll send you out a check.'' Some customers
would actually do that, and the check wouldn't come. Then the touts
would say something like, ''Oh, we know we owe you $7,000, but we can
only make the check out in increments of $5,000. Just send us another
$3,000 and we'll send you the $10,000.'' Big surprise: The $10,000
would never come. One man lost $30,000 on the con.
Soon clients got a clue and stopped paying. That's when the people
from the Seasons Edge group ''got heavy-handed,'' says Robert
Schroeder of the office of the U.S. Attorney in Atlanta. ''They'd
threaten to kill members of the family, burn down their homes.'' One
victim was told if he didn't send more money, he'd be ''chopped up
into little tiny pieces with a chain saw.'' Gamblers were bilked out
of $413,000 before a victim's parents finally called the FBI when
their son, a college student, lost his tuition money and resorted to
using his father's credit card to try to obtain his ''refund.''
Schroeder nailed conspiracy, wire fraud and extortion convictions on
12 people. They got the full package -- sentences ranging up to 87
months in jail.
There are honest sports services. There are honest out-call
masseuses, too. The trick is finding one. Some handicappers have
their picks documented by monitoring services that appear to be
reliable. Unfortunately, some say, most monitors are as crooked as
the touts. Ed Horowitz, the Professor, says he won't use monitors.
''I got calls from two monitors who both said the same thing,''
Horowitz says. ''They said I could pay, like, $250 to turn in my
games Friday, or $1,250 to turn 'em in Monday.''
Even more convenient is having your own monitor. Enter Mason King.
The ad in the Dec. 7, 1990, edition of The National for Mason King
Sports of Catonsville, Md., said you could get picks ''from The King
himself.'' Low on willpower, we called the King and left our number
(standard procedure in the 800-line tout business). The King himself
called us back. He boasted that his winning percentage was about 70%.

SI: Could you document that?
King: Sure. Call the Maryland Association of Handicappers. They
document me. I think I'm about 33-16, I'm not exactly sure. I only
give them my best play of the week.
King gave the number for the Maryland Association of Handicappers.
We called the number and a voice answered.
Them: Hello?
SI: Hello, who's this?
Them: Who's this?
SI: Well, we were just trying to get ahold of the Maryland
Association of Handicappers.
Them: Oh, uh, yeah, you got 'em.
SI: Do you document a Mason King Sports?
Them: Uh, oh, yeah. Mason King. He's one of the good ones. We've
been doing him about two years now. Last year he was 35-16. The year
before, he was 29-20. They're pretty decent.
That sounded a little fishy, so two weeks later we tried again.
The same voice answered.
Them: Hello?
SI: Is Mason King in?
Them: Who's calling?
SI: Rick.
Them: Hi, how you been? Long time since I talked to you. What
number did you call?
SI: 301-521-6242.
Them: Yeah, that's a good one.
SI: This is weird, because Mason King said this number was the
Maryland Association of Handicappers. But it isn't.
Them: No. It's a strange number. Very strange Mason gave you this
number.
SI: When I called this number last time, you said you were the
Maryland Association of Handicappers.
Them: Yeah, they use this number, sure.
SI: You mean they document you out of there?
Them: No, but when they're not in, it automatically forwards to my
office.
SI: But you're not in business together, are you?
Them: Oh, no, it's just like, uh, an answering service for me, and
for them . . . it's a call-forwarding thing. When the office here at
Mason King's is closed, it's forwarded to them.

Now that's convenient. Not only is the fox watching the henhouse,
but the fox answers the hens' phone.
Then there's the Football Betting Guide. This 34-page booklet,
which sells for $4, promises to uncover con artists and
ne'er-do-wells in the business. The cover, for instance, reads,
EXPOSED! SPORTS SERVICE SCAMS! Inside, nearly every sports adviser is
denounced as a fraud and a thief. Luckily, at the end, the book lists
the top 10 services in the country, ones you can count on, ones that
the book promises have no connection to the authors or the
publishers. So who do you think owns the top two services listed?
Right. People connected to the book.
According to Jack Stewart of Las Vegas, owner of Sports Watch (a
well- regarded monitor), Greg Silveira, a San Diego-based phone tout,
told him that he wrote the Betting Guide. Silveira also told SI that
he thought publishing the book would be a good way to drum up
business, especially since it listed his own two services, Blazer
Sports and Spot Play, as the best. ''Look, the sports handicapping
industry needs to be cleaned up,'' said Silveira (who claims his real
name is Gordie Deangelo but who also goes by Gordon Michaels). ''And
if it's worth cleaning up, it's worth cleaning up at a profit.''
But two weeks after saying that, Silveira took back most of what
he had said, conceding that he had a direct interest in Blazer Sports
but insisting that he had no involvement in Spot Play or the Football
Betting Guide. That seemed odd, because when SI checked on Oct. 16,
the 800 numbers for Blazer and Spot Play were both listed under one
address in San Diego and under the name Greg Silveira. One
handicapper ripped by the Football Betting Guide, Mike Lett, was so
irate at his review that he threatened to ''go to the FBI.'' To calm
him down, the Betting Guide agreed to run public-apology ads in
betting newspapers for the rest of the 1991 football season. Whom
did Lett deal with at the Betting Guide? ''Greg Silveira,'' Lett told
SI. This tout business has the craziest coincidences.
One of the craziest is that many of the monitoring services are
owned by the very people they're supposedly monitoring. Not
surprisingly, independent monitors don't get much business. One is
the Handicappers' Report Card of Park Forest, Ill. In the last four
years the Report Card documented the best legitimate adviser as Randy
Radtke Sports, of West Brooklyn, Ill., at 57.7%. Radtke also had the
best single football season in the Report Card's history -- 66.2%,
including bowls and playoffs, in 1990-91. Somehow he has done it
without threatening, abusing or lying to his customers. ''I don't
want to milk customers out of everything they're worth and go on to
the next batch,'' says Radtke, 37. ''I'm friends with every customer
I have.''
A guy like Radtke would make millions if touts were regulated, but
there are those who think the whole business should be eradicated,
not controlled. Why does somebody living in Iowa City need advice on
a bet when betting isn't legal anywhere within five tanks of gas?
''How many people get off the phone with these guys and hop on a
plane to Vegas?'' says Wexler, of the Council on Compulsive Gambling.
Licensing would make touts legitimate, but do they really deserve
legitimacy?
''You'd be talking with grown men who were crying on the phone,''
says one former tout. ''Guys who were losing everything but still
betting. And I'd lie awake in the middle of the night hoping the guy
would win. So I'd call the sports phone and get a late West Coast
game at 4 a.m. and go, 'Damn, he lost again.' ''
''It was like feeding drugs to an addict,'' says the ex-salesman
for Duffy. ''We'd try to take whoever we got and make them bet more.
We'd take college kids who were betting $25 and say, 'Hey, you got to
bet $500 on this game. If you don't bet a nickel, I'm not gonna give
it to you.' If they won, they got a taste for big money. If they
lost, they were desperate to get out ((of the hole)), and so they
start chasing. . . . How can anyone who works for Kevin and Stu have
a conscience? Basically, I was just hurting people.''
And that, unfortunately, is the only absolute lock we found.

BOX: Luckily We Had Help. . . .

Below are the football picks of The Source for the four weeks
during which Stu Feiner agreed to have his service monitored by SI.
(The points a bettor would give or take in betting on the team
selected are in parentheses.) The size of each wager, in units of
$100, is as recommended by The Source. Note: No bets were actually
placed by SI.

Sept. 7 Games: College
Iowa (-16) over Hawaii, bet two units: WIN $200
Texas (-10) over Miss. St., three: LOSE $330
UCLA (-5) over BYU, one: LOSE $110
CUMULATIVE BANKROLL: -$240
SEASON RECORD: 1-2, 33%

Sept. 8 Games: Pro
Falcons (-1) over Vikings, five: LOSE $550
Bengals (-2 1/2) over Oilers, five: LOSE $550
Chiefs (-6) over Saints, three: LOSE $330
Bills (-7) over Steelers, three: WIN $300
Giants (-7) over Rams, three: LOSE $330
Raiders (-4) over Broncos, three: LOSE $330
BANKROLL: -$2,030
RECORD: 2-7, 22%

Sept. 9 Game: Pro
Cowboys (2 1/2) over Redskins, five: WIN $500
The over (40) on above game, three: WIN $300
BANKROLL: -$1,230
RECORD: 4-7, 36%

Sept. 12 Game: College
Houston (8) over Miami, five: LOSE $550
BANKROLL: -$1,780
RECORD: 4-8, 33%

Sept. 14 Games: College
Michigan (-3 1/2) over Notre Dame, five: WIN $500
Tennessee (-7) over UCLA, five: WIN $500
Penn State (-7) over USC, five: LOSE $550
S. Carolina (-4) over W.Va., three: LOSE $330
Air Force (-4) over Utah, three: LOSE $330
Alabama (7 1/2) over Florida, three: LOSE $330
BANKROLL: -$2,320
RECORD: 6-12, 33%

Sept. 15 Games: Pro
Vikings (3) over 49ers, five: WIN $500
Bears (1 1/2) over Giants, five: WIN $500
Rams (3) over Saints, three: LOSE $330
BANKROLL: -$1,650
RECORD: 8-13, 38%

Sept. 16 Game: Pro
Chiefs (4 1/2) over Oilers, five: LOSE $550
BANKROLL: -$2,200
RECORD: 8-14, 36%

Sept. 21 Games: College
Indiana (-11) over Kentucky, five: LOSE $550
Florida (-8) over Syracuse, five: LOSE $550
Houston (-9) over Illinois, five: LOSE $550
Texas (-3) over Auburn, five: LOSE $550
Washington (1) over Nebraska, five: WIN $500
California (-3) over Arizona, five: LOSE $550
BANKROLL: -$4,450
RECORD: 9-19, 32%

Sept. 22 Games: Pro
Bengals (4) over Redskins, five: LOSE $550
Vikings (3) over Saints, five: LOSE $550
Colts (1) over Lions, five: LOSE $550
Bucs (8) over Bills, five: WIN $500
Rams (7 1/2) over 49ers, five: LOSE $550
Chiefs (-7 1/2) over Seahawks, five: LOSE $550
Broncos (-8) over Chargers, five: PUSH
BANKROLL: -$6,700
RECORD: 10-24, 29%

Sept. 23 Game: Pro
Jets (8) over Bears, five: WIN $500
The over (36) in above game, three: LOSE $330
BANKROLL: -$6,530
RECORD: 11-25, 31%

Sept. 26 Game: College
UCLA (-7 1/2) over San Diego St., five: WIN $500
BANKROLL: -$6,030
RECORD: 12-25, 32%

Sept. 28 Games: College
BYU (-9) over Air Force, five: WIN $500
Tennessee (-6) over Auburn, five: WIN $500
UNC (8 1/2) over N.C. State, four: LOSE $440
S. Carolina (-1) over E. Carolina, four: LOSE $440
Clemson (-9) over Georgia Tech, four: LOSE $440
Duke (7) over Virginia, three: LOSE $330
Florida State (-2) over Michigan, three: WIN $300
USC (pick 'em) over Oregon, three: WIN $300
BANKROLL: -$6,080
RECORD: 16-29, 36%

Sept. 29 Games: Pro
Bills (-8) over Bears, five: WIN $500
Giants (-3) over Cowboys, five: LOSE $550
Jets (3) over Dolphins, five: WIN $500
Vikings (-5) over Broncos, five: LOSE $550
Bucs (6) over Lions, three: LOSE $330
Raiders (3) over 49ers, three: WIN $300
FINAL BANKROLL: -$6,210
FINAL RECORD: 19-32, 37%