On a technical level, sure, this is reasonable.<p>But when someone goes out to gamble&#x2F;play DFS, they aren&#x27;t looking to diversify their bets in order to minimize their chance to lose.  The base use case is &quot;Hey, I have a few bucks, I&#x27;d like to place a quick bet for kicks, and maybe I have a chance to beat some other like-minded folks&quot;.  Before DFS, you&#x27;d just grab your buddies and make an impromptu bet, and that&#x27;s that.  The implicit expectation is that you&#x27;re playing with other players like you.  And that is precisely what the DFS advertisements promote: you are expanding your pool of for-fun players by orders of magnitude.  I&#x27;m going to the site, kicking in a $20 every few weeks, for the entertainment and possibility of winning.  I&#x27;m not going to make 20 $1 bets because that isn&#x27;t...fun.<p>The disconnect comes from the fact that DFS  pit you directly against top-ranked high-rollers, who are not just schmoes off the street.  Sure I don&#x27;t expect to win.  But I also don&#x27;t _expect_ to be playing top 25 players in the world who are playing with thousands of bets.<p>That issues is covered in depth by the article, but from the looks of your post, you just seemed to stop reading after the &#x27;gambling addict&#x27; bit.  The last paragraph covers this:<p>&quot;At the start of the N.B.A. season, a couple of friends and I started a friendly league on DraftKings. Every night, we draft teams, watch the points accumulate and make fun of one another for our picks. On the first of each month, we pay one another what we owe. One of these friends creates N.B.A. player performance models. They help him escape the cynical demands of his job as a corporate lawyer. To date, I am down $350 to him.<p>“Yes, yes, yes,” Harber said when I told him about this league. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.” &quot;