Here’s a fun compare and contrast: In 2025, New Jersey sports bettors wagered a little more than $12.2 billion, and the sportsbooks made $1.18 billion. The books paid $202.7 million in taxes.
Not too shabby, all told. A hold of 9.6%, and the state got its taste.
But there’s more than one way to gamble in New Jersey. You can play the lottery, for instance. The New Jersey Lottery sold a “mere” $3.34 billion in lottery tickets of all stripes, and it made $1.08 billion, all of it going to the state’s pension fund.
For those keeping score at home, the “hold” on the lottery last year was 32.3%. In fact, state law demands at least 27% of ticket sales go to the state.
Hmmmph. Would certainly seem like sports betting is a better deal for players. More than three times a better deal. So that’s nice.
But of course, the lottery is a better deal for the state. By almost five times as much tax revenue.
So with that as preamble, I’ll give you one guess as to which product is currently being prepped to get kneecapped.
If you guessed “sports betting,” give yourself a cannoli.
Microscoping the micros
Last week, New Jersey’s Senate State Government, Wagering, Tourism, and Historic Preservation Committee advanced S 2160, a bill that would ban microbetting in the state. It’s the first bill of its kind in the country. No other state has gone this far.
The bill defines microbets as live wagers on the next play or action in a sporting event. Think betting on the next pitch in a baseball game, the next shot in a college basketball game. The bill now heads to the full Senate floor.
The bill’s sponsor, Sen. Paul Moriarity, compared sportsbooks offering microbetting to the owner of a bar approaching “someone with a drinking problem and inviting them to come in for their favorite drink.”
Sen. John McKeon, the chair of the committee, said he was “over the top disturbed by all of this, truth be told.”
If you listened to the hour-plus of testimony, you would’ve heard all about the dangers of microbetting and sports betting in general, how it leads to (deep breath, this was all covered in the hearing, and it’s not exhaustive) compulsive behavior and gambling addiction, how a quarter of bettors can’t pay their bills, how 30% are carrying debt, how people are taking out payday loans and betting with credit cards using money they don’t have, how apps use algorithms and free-money lures to keep people hooked, how self-exclusion is a joke because the companies just reach out with offers to pull you back in, how Rutgers estimates 50,000 problem gamblers in New Jersey alone with 2 million family members affected, how gambling addiction carries the highest suicide rate of any addiction, how kids whose brains aren’t fully formed until 25 can download these apps and get around age verification, how two Cleveland pitchers were indicted for throwing balls instead of strikes so their associates could cash in, how a basketball player allegedly pulled himself from a game so people could bet against his stats, how 21% of bettors admitted to verbally abusing athletes and sending death threats after losing bets, and how no state in the nation has yet banned any of it.
And … exhale.
All of this proved to be too much for Capt. Jack Andrews, noted bettor, co-founder of Unabated, and fellow Jersey Guy who got himself a little twisted on Twitter (excited on X, fine). He pointed out the hypocrisy, showing off some New Jersey Lottery games that are juuuuuuuuuust a wee bit more ridiculous than wagering if Aaron Judge will hit a home run in his next at-bat.
Andrews highlighted a game called “Cash Pop,” which runs every four minutes in the state. You pick a number between 1 and 15. That’s it. That’s the game. House edge of 40%.
Then there’s “Quick Draw.” A keno game. Every four minutes. House edge of 40%.
You can play these games in bars, Andrews noted. He also brought up the fact that in New Jersey you can buy scratch-off lottery tickets from vending machines. The only thing preventing a 12-year-old from buying them is a sticker on the machine telling them it’s illegal.
“I’d say the biggest paradox I’ve found in the comparison is that the lottery is accepted for being bad for people because part of the money goes to a good cause. It funds the state workers pension fund,” Andrews told me. “But that shouldn’t be an excuse to offer games that are higher-frequency dopamine exploiters.”
Andrews — never one to let a little of our Jersey cynicism go unused — did note anyone with a working pulse should figure out these games are not good for the wallet.
“To New Jersey’s credit, they offer games that are so bad that people will likely be disabused of the notion they can win,” he said.
Micro edges
To be fair, and peeling back the full curtain here: I’ve never placed a microbet in my life. Not interested. Maybe if I’m actually at a game, I might, but then again … I might not. Probably not.
And let’s not kid ourselves: There’s a casino-like element to who will make the next shot, what the next pitch will be, if the next play is a run or a pass. There is a chance someone could get out over their skis pretty quickly if they’re just mashing buttons.
But there’s also an element of skill here as well. If you “know ball” there might be an edge. And there is certainly an edge if your algorithm is spitting out +EV plays. And there’s not a built-in 40%(!) house advantage.
Andrews’ point is well-founded and obvious once you think about it for a second.
Over-the-top disturbed about microbetting? OK, fine, sure. But if that’s the case, then let’s see those bills banning “pick a number, any number” games that you can play while slugging back a few beers at the local bar.
I’m not holding my breath.
Because here’s the thing: The state-run lottery sends $1.08 billion to the state pension fund. Sports betting sends $202.7 million to the state. You don’t need Unabated’s tools to figure out which one gets the protection racket and which one gets the hearing.
