Adam Meyer's dark hair is expertly slicked, and his muscular frame is crammed into a designer suit, the white shirt unbuttoned to expose his tanned skin. The TV lights gleam off his unsmiling, sculpted face.
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"I have to win," Meyer says in his dry monotone. "[It's] the personification of what I'm made of."
Meyer's entire public image is a testament to victory. His personal website: adamwins.com. His Bentley's license plate: BET ON ME. His profession: predicting which sports teams will win every night, a task he claims to succeed at "over 63 percent of the time." Meyer purports to have made $2.8 million just by picking Green Bay in the last Super Bowl.
What Meyer doesn't mention during NBC 6's fawning interview or in any of his regular media spots — from Sid Rosenberg's radio show to profiles in the South Florida Sun-Sentinel to puff pieces in national magazines such as Cigar Aficionado — is that he lost big time betting on one of the worst scammers in Magic City history.
Nevin Shapiro — the convicted Ponzi schemer now trying to implode University of Miami athletics with allegations he paid off players — sent millions to Meyer while pissing away a huge chunk of his $880 million fraud on bets, new court documents show. The gambling king lost hundreds of thousands of his own cash in the scheme and is now on the hook to pay back almost $1 million to Shapiro's victims.
Shapiro's case not only shines a rare light on Meyer's unique place atop the gray area of "sports handicappers," but also raises uncomfortable questions about whether Shapiro used his close ties to UM to aid his gambling or Meyer's betting biz. Meyer's attorney, Joel Hirschhorn, also adds new allegations that he warned the university about Shapiro's shady finances.
"It's very hard to believe that a guy like Nevin Shapiro wouldn't use his position close to the team to influence his gambling," says Robert Jarvis, a Nova Southeastern University law professor who studies gambling law. "Did he go even farther and try to influence the outcome by taking a player out the night before a game and getting him rip-roaring drunk? These are legitimate questions."
Meyer denies receiving any inside tips from Shapiro. "I don't believe Nevin Shapiro ever provided Adam with even a single bit of information," Hirschhorn says.
As long as Americans have been wagering on sports, guys like Meyer have tried to make a profit by recommending winners.
As early as the '40s, handicappers, or "touts," realized they could profit without the risks of being a bookie (the guy who actually takes the bet), a job illegal everywhere but Vegas. The mob soon got in on the action too. Frank Rosenthal, a mobster who inspired Robert De Niro's character in Casino, was one of the first famous touts in Vegas. Jimmy the Greek took handicapping national in the early '70s when he landed a gig talking up football lines on CBS.
Meyer, who was born in New York in 1972 but grew up in Fort Lauderdale, caught the betting bug at the University of Miami. As a freshman, he answered an ad for a handicapping firm called American Sports and never looked back.
"I thought I could beat everything," he told Cigar Aficionado in June. "[I] burned through millions and millions of dollars by the time I was 22."
Meyer soon saw the dark side of sports gambling too. He and his boss, a local tout named Lee Sterling (who still makes weekly picks for the Miami Herald), were too enthusiastic in trying to collect a $500 debt from a Louisiana gambler named Richard O. Evans in 1993. When Meyer said, "I'm going to be your worst fucking nightmare," the family reported him and Sterling to the feds. In April 1996, the 24-year-old was convicted of threatening communications and sentenced to 90 days in prison plus a $5,000 fine. (Also, Sterling got a three-month sentence.)
The years after his prison term didn't exactly bring quick returns either. "I went broke two or three times," he told Cigar Aficionado. "I sold my cars and my jewelry and I cried myself to sleep... When I went broke, my parents begged me to go to law school. But I knew what I wanted to do."
In the struggle between casinos and gamblers, it's all about finding an edge. To set lines — official predictions of who will win and by how much — Vegas casinos use sophisticated computer programs and analyze reams of data.
Meyer says that over the years, he figured out how to consistently beat those predictions, combining his natural skills at analyzing games with his own batch of computer programs that simulate each matchup "thousands of times." He also claims to have casino moles who warn him when lines will change and sources in every sport to give him inside info about injuries and suspensions.
All told, Meyer's intel is worth $199 a month to his website subscribers. Premium clients pay him $2,999 monthly for "last-minute, up-to-the second" updates, and Meyer claims "celebrity clients" pay $250,000 a year. "They can count on that money turning into a million dollars in winnings," he says.