Columnist Dean Juipe: Refunds may tempt casino execs

Dean Juipe

Friday, Nov. 3, 2000 | 11:01 a.m.

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at juipe@lasvegassun.com or 259-4084.

Whether it's coupons, rebates or similar incentives, everyone wants to feel as if they're getting a deal.

Supermarkets do it. Car dealerships do it. Casinos do it with bonus points on their slot play to club members.

Virtually every business is tempted, if not required for competitive reasons, to offer its customers a little something extra for their money. It is, arguably, a way of life.

Yet it's an area that might be classified as dangerous ground when casinos -- and, more pointedly, sports books -- extend a privilege to their high-end customers that isn't readily available to the average man on the street.

Specifically, refunding money to well-heeled bettors.

Perhaps it isn't morally reprehensible. Perhaps it's actually a legitimate business practice.

But, simply by implication, refunding money to bettors has an unscrupulous feel to it. And it's something that may have cost, or contributed to, more than one person in the industry losing his job just this year.

The practice of refunding money on bets is a shell game of sorts, fed by high-roller bettors on the one hand and casino execs eager to show an upswing in business on the other. If it's a trend it's one that has been happening with some degree of regularity with table-game play, and, by unsubstantiated reports, it may have found its way to Las Vegas' sports books on a limited basis.

Here's how it goes in the books: In an effort to cultivate major, wealthy, players, the sports-book director okays a deal in which the bettor can get a portion of his wager refunded to him in the event the player loses. For instance, let's say Mr. Big wants to put down $5,000 on Florida State to cover the 18-point line for Saturday's game with Clemson. Let's say Clemson only loses by 14.

Is it worth the casino's while to make a partial refund, say $2,000, to Mr. Big under an agreement that he re-bet that money -- and some other -- at its property?

You can argue both sides.

Those who see it as acceptable point to the benefits of having steady action from major players, players with enough money to swing a line with a sizable bet and, in turn, attract additional business with the fluctuation. The underlying belief is that the house will win enough to make it worthwhile, even though sports-book profits are a fairly minor item for the local casinos.

Conversely, look at the can of worms that is opened. By refunding money, the sports book has lessened its immediate profit without any assurance that it will even profit in the long run. It also runs the risk of ostracizing other high-end or significant players who may come to learn they're not being treated as lavishly as some of their colleagues.

The concept of refunding sports bets is "virtually unheard of" according to those familiar with the industry, yet it's a topic that arose again this week in some inner circles and one that wasn't outright dismissed by professional gamblers queried on the subject. Each could recite some special benefit they had received in the past, even if a full or partial refund wasn't among them.

Perhaps it will be a standard practice in the future.

Perhaps the Gold Coast, in a fit of generosity, will refund a portion of that small fortune I already lost on the NFL this season.