For Better or Worse

There he was, John Brodie, former star quarterback of the San Francisco 49ers and Stanford University, an occasional player on the senior golf tour, a former broadcaster known for his clean-cut image, touting gambling tips on television, over a phone hotline and in newspapers, his face prominently displayed in ads nestled among those of handicappers like Jimmy the Fixer and Dr. Sam.

John Brodie?

It was like finding David Copperfield selling the secrets of his magic tricks.

And callers to Brodie’s hotline were led to believe that he was more than just a famous front man for the organization.

It was Brodie himself, callers were told, who would pick up the money they would have to pay for betting information, money that could run to more than $7,000 for a single day. It was Brodie himself who would occasionally speak with them on the phone. It was Brodie proclaiming the virtues of gambling and using NFL contacts to glean inside information from teams, such as the Atlanta Falcons, whose starting quarterback is his son-in-law, Chris Chandler.

But Brodie, insisting he was duped by the handicapping service, the Price Group, said he had severed ties with that organization two months ago and filed suit Nov. 7 in L.A. County Superior Court, alleging breach of contract, fraud and defamation of character.

He said that statements and selections in the ads are not his, that he has not spoken to customers over the phone and has never picked up money sent through Western Union in his name.

Nevertheless, the group continues to run ads with his picture--most recently Monday in USA Today--claiming to offer his picks.

One shows a photo of Brodie in a San Francisco 49er uniform and says, in part, “John will show you that 17 years as a quarterback in the NFL gives him a tremendous advantage. Knowing people on the inside is the key to winning.”

Brodie objects strongly to the ad.

“I would never use my contacts in that way,” he said. “I don’t condone cheating. . . . I’ve never thought there was anything wrong with gambling. I think cheating stinks. Obviously it’s a set-up and it’s no good.”

He does admit signing a $100,000 contract with the Price Group to make predictions on a cable-television show. And although he says he severed ties with the organization more than two months ago, he and his lawyers have not been able to halt the ads.

Another former football star, Deacon Jones, who has appeared in ads, has also sued the Price Group, alleging breach of contract, intentional misrepresentation and invasion of privacy. Jones played for the then-Los Angeles Rams.

Marc Meghrouni, head of the Price Group and a co-defendant in both suits, denies any wrongdoing.

THE LURE

They exist in the shadows of the sports world. They use famous sports figures as their front men, hide behind phony names, operate from 800 and 900 numbers, claim secret connections with sports teams and promise quick, easy money from wagering.

It will be fun, exciting and--best of all--free, they promise. You can bet on it.

These elusive figures, sports handicappers, target the millions of Americans who bet an estimated $1 billion a week illegally on college and professional football games. That’s in addition to the millions more bet at legal sports books from Reno to Las Vegas.

The handicappers don’t actually take bets--booking sports bets is illegal outside Nevada--they only give information.

But in the newspaper ads, radio spots and television shows, the handicappers offer inside information, supposedly supplied by former professional players and coaches, on all sorts of sports--who’s hot, who’s not, who’s hurt and, most important, who’s going to win.

Who can resist? To many bettors in search of an edge, it seems too good to be true.

And it may be.

Repeatedly, over two months, the Brodie hotline duped two paying customers, Times reporters, with bait-and-switch tactics, luring them in with promises of free information, then asking for fees that rise from $200 to more than $7,000.

A critical element of the approach of those on the Brodie hotline is the selling of the perception that games are “fixed,” that is, their outcomes are known in advance.

A reporter who called the service was told, “Things happen. Three guys miss a tackle and a guy goes 80 yards for a touchdown.”

“Are you saying games are fixed?” the reporter asked.

“I’m saying things happen,” the handicapper said.

There is nothing new in all this. Bets were placed on chariot races in ancient Rome.

And, be assured, there was someone in the background claiming he knew which was the hot chariot.

Handicapping is as old as wagering. Bettors have always looked for an edge--from a friend of the chariot driver, a trainer at the track or an assistant coach on a football team. Everybody who bets wants to have, or at least think he has, information that will swing the odds in his favor.

And who better to handicap than former players and coaches? Who better to convince the gamblers that they can provide that crucial edge?

Brodie and Jones are only two of the former NFL figures involved in handicapping ads that run regularly in USA Today, ads that include former coaches Chuck Knox and Bum Phillips, and former quarterbacks Dan Pastorini and Craig Morton.

Their ads run right in alongside those of other handicappers--Jimmy “the Wizard” Maven, the Professor, Big Al, who is dressed as Al Capone, and Dr. Sam, who boasts, “If I don’t win . . . I will leave the country.”

The NFL and the NCAA would gladly pay his air fare. Gambling is already a huge headache for professional and college sports organizations. The proliferation of handicappers, each spouting statistics and touting his own system, encourages gambling, lines the pockets of illegal bookmakers and leaves organizations like the NFL often feeling helpless.

“We’d prefer they not do it,” said league spokesman Greg Aiello about the participation of former NFL coaches and players in handicapping operations. “A couple of those approached have called our office and said, ‘What do you think?’ We said, ‘We don’t think it’s a good idea.’

“We control use of our trademarks. We keep a close eye on services that cater to illegal activities, like gambling. Unfortunately, there are papers that accept advertisements from these handicappers, but we have no control over that.”

Aiello said that the league is not claiming that the handicappers are doing something illegal.

“We don’t know anything about these outfits,” he said. “We are strictly talking about appearance.”

Knox, the former NFL coach, said he agreed only to put his coaching background in an ad that ran in USA Today. He now calls the ad misleading. He said it left the impression that he was reporting on games.

After two weeks, Knox asked out of the deal.

“I just had a sixth sense about it,” he said. “I didn’t feel comfortable. Hey, that’s not me. I didn’t want to do this. I’ve been a football coach all my life. One way or another, I didn’t want anything to be misconstrued.”

Unlike Brodie, Jones and Knox, Morton, who has been working for a handicapping service for several months, has had no problems.

“I don’t have any complaints,” he said. “It hasn’t been bad. I make my own selections. Nobody puts words in my mouth.”

Morton said, however, that he would never take advantage of his 18 years in the league to get inside information.

“I just use my experience and give my opinion,” he said. “Everybody has opinions. Some people want mine.”

Even though his opinions are used for gambling, Morton doesn’t see himself as an advocate for betting.

“I don’t gamble,” he said. “If I did, I would probably lose.

“I don’t think gambling is the way to prosperity. There are too many poor people out there among gamblers.”

Morton said his success rate had been about 65% this season until last weekend, when he was wrong on six of eight picks.

A widely known Las Vegas oddsmaker says he doesn’t understand why so many big names lend their names to these handicapping services.

“It’s inconceivable to me that they could have inside information,” said Michael “Roxy” Roxborough, head of a firm that sets the odds for most of the legal sports books. “I’d like to know what the attraction is, why those guys do that type of thing.

“I doubt those people are working any sources. They’re probably just selling their name.”

Roxborough also said he doesn’t have much faith in the handicappers themselves.

“Most of those guys lose,” Roxborough said. “If they were really picking all those winners, why would they be giving the information away? They’d just bet the games themselves. People just aren’t going to give you winners over the phone.”

HOW IT WORKS

Two Times reporters paid the John Brodie handicapping service $2,000 each for betting tips. The service touted Brodie’s connection and the money was demanded up front before any tips were given.

If the reporters had followed the advice of the handicappers, operated by the Price Group, and made illegal bets through a bookmaker, which they did not, they would have lost about $1,000 besides the $4,000 spent for the picks. The reporters were given tips for college and pro games on six days.

In the first call The Times made to the service advertising free information and Brodie’s connection, a reporter, using an assumed name, was told the accuracy rate for the free picks was 49% to 52%, about what he could expect picking on his own.

But if he wanted to make real money, he was told, he could pay $200, which would entitle him to call Brodie’s private line.

“I don’t want your money,” a voice on the other end told the reporter. “I want your bookie’s money. You and me are both going to get his money.”

After paying the $200, wired through Western Union, the reporter dialed the new number he had been given.

“You paid $2,000, right?” said a new voice, identified as Dave.

“No, I paid $200,” replied the reporter.

“Oh, I only deal with the guys who pay $2,000,” Dave said. “If you just want the regular picks, I’ll send you back to the operator.”

Told that the only way to make big money was investing big money, the reporter agreed to put in $1,800 more, all of the money supplied by The Times.

“If I was going to tell you I’d make you $150,000, you’d give me $50,000, right?” Dave said.

“What about John Brodie?” the reporter asked. “I was told I was going to get to talk to him.”

“Talking to me is like talking to John,” Dave replied.

And Dave’s picks proved fairly reliable.

Dave told the reporter that his selections would be 80% accurate. According to a Los Angeles bookmaker, such accuracy would be phenomenal. The best handicappers, said the bookmaker, try to hit on 55% of their picks.

Dave explained to the caller that, for his $2,000, he would get information on selected college games, one of which was described as “the wheel game,” a can’t-miss bet that would guarantee success even if the reporter only broke even on his other bets.

The reporter was told he was to bet on that wheel game separately, then combine the wheel game with each of the other selected games in two-game bets called parlays.

In a parlay, the bettor must win both games to collect. If he picks both winners, he receives a higher payoff than if he had bet on a single game.

The reporter called back on a Saturday morning and was given 12 teams to bet on, some favorites, some underdogs. Each game would be coupled with the wheel game. He was told to bet $300 on each parlay and $500 on the wheel game, for a total of $4,100.

In all, Dave was correct on 10 of the 13 games, a 77% accuracy rate. That was pretty close to his claim.

If the reporter had, indeed, followed Dave’s advice and gambled on the games as directed that day, he would have won $6,080. Subtracting the $2,000 paid for the information, the profit would have been $4,080.

When the reporter tried the next day to get picks for the NFL games that weekend, he was told that information would cost an additional $5,300. He declined.

And all days aren’t as good as that first one. A week later, another reporter paid $2,000 more to the Price Group and was given betting instructions. If he had followed them, he would have lost $7,000, in addition to his $2,000 fee.

BRODIE AND JONES CONNECTION

Brodie and Jones were recruited for the Price Group by Mike Lansford, a former Los Angeles Ram kicker. Lansford now makes a living connecting athletes with those seeking their services for everything from speaking engagements to golf tournaments.

Lansford had been contacted by Bruce First, owner of a licensing and marketing business, who had, in turn, been contacted by Meghrouni, president of the Price Group. The requests seemed harmless, Lansford said.

The deal was that Brodie would do a weekly show on cable TV, predicting the outcomes of games. His picks might also be available on a phone service.

Brodie, speaking by telephone on a conference call while two reporters sat in his lawyer’s office, acknowledged having signed up with the Price Group to make football predictions on the weekly cable show.

But he said he objected when he later saw Price Group ads quoting him on statements he said he never made, and read someone else’s predictions that were passed off as his.

Perhaps most damaging of all for bettors, who are led to believe that certain games are can’t-miss propositions, Brodie said he learned that the handicappers would advise some bettors to take one team in a game and others to take the other team. That would guarantee, no matter who won, that at least half of the customers would be happy and would probably continue paying for information.

Meghrouni denied that ever happened.

“Never, ever,” he said.

Brodie said he first became alarmed about the Price Group when, after taping a few shows, he received a call from a representative of College Bound Student Athletes, a recruiting organization he represents. He was told that the organization no longer wanted him as a spokesman, based on the statement he had made in a flier.

What statement, Brodie said he asked.

He was read the following: “The NFL says gambling doesn’t affect the league. I know otherwise. Call me now and I will prove it, free!”

Brodie said that he never made that statement, which was featured in a flier sent out to customers of the Price Group.

“It was blasphemous,” Brodie said.

Through his attorneys, Brodie demanded a retraction to be run at the beginning and the end of the next show, and on a flier to be sent out to all those who had received the first one.

Brodie said he was promised the retraction would be made. It never was.

Meghrouni said that was because Brodie had, indeed, made the statement.

“There’s no question. And there are witnesses,” Meghrouni said. “He requested a retraction for something he said. Absolutely, and there were several witnesses.”

Asked if he’d told Brodie he would grant a retraction, Meghrouni said, “Once we researched it and found several witnesses, no. There’s no retraction on the truth. It shouldn’t happen.”

Brodie said after he’d seen the statement on the flier, he contacted the NFL and his former club, the 49ers, to assure them that the statement was not his. An NFL official confirmed that Brodie had called.

Brodie said he then began to look into the service itself and grew concerned.

“I got wind of something that they don’t always give the games I pick,” he said “They give whatever side they want. Then I got extremely suspicious and I decided that wasn’t going to happen any longer.”

When the retraction wasn’t included on Brodie’s fifth and, as it turned out, final telecast, he told his attorney to terminate the relationship.

By the time he left, Brodie said he had been paid $22,300 of the $100,000.

Brodie, who played for the 49ers from 1957 to 1973, said his greatest concern was the Price Group’s implying to a Times reporter that Brodie was supplying information on the Falcons because of his link to Chandler.

“I’ve never contacted anyone in the game, nor would I,” Brodie said.

Yet that is exactly the type of hint Meghrouni drops.

Meghrouni said that, at one point during the season, that his company had been tipped that Atlanta Coach Dan Reeves had called a meeting with Falcon offensive linemen and was “all over them” about the shoddy way they had been protecting Chandler.

Is that the type of tip Brodie had provided, Meghrouni was asked over the phone.

‘I can’t tell you that,” Meghrouni said. “Did [the tip] help? We think so.”

Had that tip come from Brodie, Meghrouni was asked again.

“I can’t say that here on the telephone,” he replied.

Brodie, responding to the mention of Chandler’s name, said, “It also puts a bad light on his situation. And I also have a very close friend named Mike Salmon [a former USC defensive back] who is playing for the 49ers. He is dating my daughter and engaged. So obviously I wouldn’t want to be dealing with that.”

Even two months after Brodie said he stopped working with the Price Group, a caller was hooked up with a man at the handicapping service who identified himself as Brodie, and $4,000 in handicapping fees was sent through Western Union made payable to Brodie.

Meghrouni said the money could have been picked up by several people from the corporation, with accounts set up using “DBAs [doing business as] and LLCs [limited liability corporations].”

Western Union confirmed that a man identifying himself as John Brodie picked up at least one of the money wires sent by a Times reporter.

Karen Walters, director of customer service, said the man claimed the money by giving the Western Union service agent an identification number that showed he was an agent of Price Enterprises. He was not asked to provide any personal identification.

“There must be something on file that allows Price Enterprises to pick up money under that name,” Walters said.

Brodie said he never picked up money for the handicapping service. He also said he had not given the Price Group permission to claim money in his name.

Deacon Jones, asked about his relationship with the company, would not comment, but one of his attorneys, Todd Krauss, said that the former Ram was shocked to see his picture in a USA Today ad touting his picks and proclaiming that he would be awarding free weekend vacations.

“He was portrayed as a professional handicapper, which he is not,” Krauss said.

Krauss said that in early September he asked the Price Group to stop running the ads. But they continue to run.

When things went sour, Lansford, who made connection for Brodie and Jones with Meghrouni, said he felt terrible.

“I thought, ‘Oh my God, what have I done? What have I put John into?,’ ” Lansford said. “How can anybody be so insensitive to hurt a career and a reputation someone has worked so hard to achieve for their own personal gain.”

THE PRICE GROUP

Officers from the Long Beach Police Department’s vice section, working in conjunction with police from the city of Orange, conducted a raid on a Price Group office in Orange in January. Police said they were looking for evidence to corroborate information from an informant that the handicapping organization was also taking bets. No charges were filed.

The Times was unable to get in to see the operation at its current office in Irvine, but a sexual harassment suit filed in May against Meghrouni and the Price Group by a former employee paints a picture of an intimidating workplace with a bachelor-party type atmosphere.

Part of the suit, brought by Cynthia Stockwell, contends that Meghrouni is doing business under the name of Jack Price.

Stockwell said in the suit that she had heard an employee, Jack Smith, threaten someone who owed money to the company:

” . . . Maybe if I cock a gun upside your head, you’ll understand I mean business. I’m going to call the police and report your bookie and use your name. You better send me the money. I know a lot of guys who eat spaghetti and don’t speak Irish, if you know what I mean.”

According to Stockwell’s suit, Smith called the wives of customers and said, “Look, you . . . your husband owes me money. I’m going to kill you and your kids if you don’t pay us the . . . money.”

Price Group lawyer Michelle Reinglass called the lawsuit a sham and said, Stockwell “has now fabricated a million fabrications.”

Another employee cited in the suit, Andrew Rogers, asked Stockwell whether she believed in God, she said in the suit.

When she said she did, he replied, “There is no God. I’m God.” Then, holding up a wad of money, said, “This is God.”

Times staff writer Lisa Dillman contributed to this story.