Odds on

You know why the Yankees always win, Frank… it’s ‘cause the other teams can’t stop looking at those damn pinstripes.
– Frank Abagnale Sr, Catch Me If You Can

It may be nothing more than a coincidence, but Tom Waterhouse really seems to have taken a dive in the ol’ popularity stakes since February.

There’s no reason to suggest it had anything to do with his hire of a certain rugby league expert prior to the NRL season, but the timing is uncanny.

Jokes aside, unless you’ve been hidden under a rock for the past couple of months, you’ve been exposed to the kind of hate-mongering aimed in Waterhouse’s direction that has otherwise been reserved for sections of the Catholic Church, the Rugby Union code and the Collingwood Football Club.

In print, online, on TV, radio and social media, Waterhouse has been pilloried to the point that this correspondent is ready to go in to bat for him.

And that’s saying something.

Rarely one to punt, I’m not leaping to the defence of a service provider who’s helped me win a fortune.

I don’t have an account with Waterhouse and I’m also far from likely to fall prey to the man’s marketing machine.

Nor any of the myriad other bookmakers that shove their product down Joe Public’s throat through the gamut of media available to 21^st Century advertisers.

Let’s never forget, Tom Waterhouse isn’t the only one swinging hard in this big ball game we call sports betting.

And he’s far from Pat Malone in exerting an unsolicited influence on the kiddies through TV advertising, sponsorship and product placement.

(By the way, this appears to be outspoken Fairfax coumnist Peter FitzSimons’ main gripe. That and the threat of litigation that came in the wake of one of his more inflammatory columns.)

So, why are people so upset at Waterhouse?

Sure, his mug isn’t on everyone’s list of ideal viewing, his advertisements are cringeworthy at best and members of his immediate family dabbled in the shady side of racing during the 1980s – but none of these appear reasons to pour scorn on the man in the Saville Row suit with the nice teeth and sensible haircut.

He’s undoubtedly wealthy, successful in business and a product of a high profile Sydney private school – and all of those have been bandied about as reasons to dislike plenty of people in the past – but, again, they don’t appear to be at the root of the problem.

While he may market himself more prominently than others – the Melbourne tram bearing his likeness, for example – Waterhouse is not the first bookie to strive for a high public profile.

British betting conglomerate Paddy Power changed the face of the game in the UK and Ireland during the mid-to-late 2000s by ratcheting up their marketing efforts.

By taking up High Street real estate instead of occupying back alley betting shops, offering a huge range of exotic bets and erecting the largest free-standing advertising billboard in the world, Paddy Power framed itself as a giant on the British betting scene.

Whether Waterhouse borrowed anything from the Paddy Power playbook is a matter for conjecture only, but that his grandfather’s modus operandi in earning the epithet as ‘King of the Bookies’ has rubbed off on him seems doubtless.

It seems the Waterhouse clan is willing, perhaps compelled, to bet big – and to attract the big bettors they’ll go that extra mile to separate themselves from the rest.

Bill Waterhouse built his profile by packing a bag and heading for Royal Ascot in the late 1960s.

His grandson took it to television land and the interwebs 40 years later.

This is where, FitzSimons and others would have you believe, the junior Waterhouse started to unpick the very fabric of our society – one ad spot at a time.

At this point it seems prudent to point out that there is merit in at least part of FitzSimons’ message.

Gambling advertising, like tobacco and alcohol before it, must be regulated in order to limit any damage the product may have on Australia and Australians.

We’re in epidemic territory here, there’s no doubt. A survey of popular smartphone apps would give a clear snapshot of how prominent – and potentially problematic – gambling is in modern Australia.

Your author lives in an electorate served at the Federal level by Andrew Wilkie – an independent man on a mission to drive a stake into the heart of the dreaded ‘pokie’.

More power to his elbow!

Note, however, he’s not just aiming up at Aristocrat and letting IGT tick along in the background. Mr Wilkie is waging war on all of those mesmeric money-suckers.

And that’s where the Waterhouse witch hunt really grinds.

Is it political correctness alone that stops affluent white Australians railing against Samuel L. Jackson’s role in spruiking sports betting?

Tom Waterhouse brings ‘four generations’ of bookmaking to the table – it should surprise nobody that he’s looking to make a wager.

Samuel L. Jackson brings a whole host of memorable one-liners, the most recent of which is something to do with ‘the world’s biggest online sports betting agency’, and genuine celebrity pulling power

I would argue his appeal to young people is greater than that of Waterhouse.

But dressed in a loose-fitting bomber jacket and flat-peak cap, baby-faced Waterhouse would look far more like Justin Bieber, so perhaps FitzSimons is on to something.

And maybe, just maybe, Channel Nine is, too.

It’s anyone’s guess how much Waterhouse has poured into their coffers during the past few footy seasons. But a reported $50 million for the current rugby league deal has to look good on their advertising books.

Given the (assumedly) free spot Panthers GM Phil Gould got on Monday’s 5pm news to spruik Channel Nine's sponsorship of Penrith Juniors, it could be suggested the network is happy to tread a fine line when it comes to commercial partnerships of all kinds.

The controversy siren that rang out over Randwick following Saturday’s ‘conflict of interest’ debate between Singo and the Waterhouse family should also have been blaring when Gus’s fat head took up half the screen to promote his club’s juniors during the sports news.

At best, it was a story that deserved 15cm in the Penrith City Star – not 30 seconds on a national news broadcast!

Allowing Waterhouse the leeway to push his brand in a previously uncharted manner was Channel Nine’s doing.

In a manner befitting the corporate animal he is painted as, Waterhouse stepped into the breach and brought to sports betting a kind of exposure that was unprecedented before the NRL season launch.

As we all know, that was the tipping point.