Ryan Tatusko had Tommy John surgery when he was 17, but that didn’t scare Indiana State University’s baseball coaches away from the talented teenage pitcher. Tatusko arrived on campus unable to play right away. Instead, he started to gamble to stave off boredom.
The games were Mario Kart or five-card draw poker, and the stakes were small. If someone lost, they’d have to spring for “lunch at Chick-fil-A in the Commons,” Tatusko recalled.
But things quickly escalated. One night, Tatusko and his roommate played in an all-night online poker tournament. His roommate won. Tatusko didn’t.
After his roommate went to bed, Tatusko secretly logged on to his roommate’s account and managed to lose every penny of the $300 he’d just won. When his roommate found out, he had the team stage a sort of intervention, wherein they wouldn’t tell their coach about the incident if Tatusko swiftly paid off the debt.
He got a cash advance from his credit card and did just that. His roommate moved out.
Some two decades later, Tatusko was sitting in his car in a Texas parking lot with a bottle full of sleeping pills. The gambling habit he picked up in college had mushroomed considerably, both during and after a long career in the minor leagues. He was six figures in debt and owed money to pretty much everyone he knew.
“The only thing I knew I had left was a life insurance policy,” he told Sports Handle. “My thought was, ‘How do I make it look like an accidental overdose where my wife could collect on the life insurance policy?’”
Tatusko swallowed a bunch of those pills in that parking lot, thinking he’d never wake up. He did.
For most people, such a grim situation would constitute rock bottom, a place from which to rise up after a brush with death. But Tatusko didn’t see it that way.
“The one out I thought I had, I didn’t have anymore.”
The games were Mario Kart or five-card draw poker, and the stakes were small. If someone lost, they’d have to spring for “lunch at Chick-fil-A in the Commons,” Tatusko recalled.
But things quickly escalated. One night, Tatusko and his roommate played in an all-night online poker tournament. His roommate won. Tatusko didn’t.
After his roommate went to bed, Tatusko secretly logged on to his roommate’s account and managed to lose every penny of the $300 he’d just won. When his roommate found out, he had the team stage a sort of intervention, wherein they wouldn’t tell their coach about the incident if Tatusko swiftly paid off the debt.
He got a cash advance from his credit card and did just that. His roommate moved out.
Some two decades later, Tatusko was sitting in his car in a Texas parking lot with a bottle full of sleeping pills. The gambling habit he picked up in college had mushroomed considerably, both during and after a long career in the minor leagues. He was six figures in debt and owed money to pretty much everyone he knew.
“The only thing I knew I had left was a life insurance policy,” he told Sports Handle. “My thought was, ‘How do I make it look like an accidental overdose where my wife could collect on the life insurance policy?’”
Tatusko swallowed a bunch of those pills in that parking lot, thinking he’d never wake up. He did.
For most people, such a grim situation would constitute rock bottom, a place from which to rise up after a brush with death. But Tatusko didn’t see it that way.
“The one out I thought I had, I didn’t have anymore.”
