The Origins of the March Madness Bracket Controversially Claimed by a Staten Island Pub and a Kentucky Postal Worker
Unleashed Tales:
- Sports Betting: A Nostalgic Journey Back to the Roots of Bracket-Filling
- March Madness: The Wild Origin Story of a College Basketball Tradition
- New York vs. Kentucky: The Great Debate of the Bracket Pool Pioneer
Footsteps of a Million-Dollar Dream
SHADOWED IN THE annals of history, New York City is famously whispered to have birthed the magical notion of jotting our NCAA Tournament brackets - but could that urban legend truly hold water? Before the frenzied office pool fever truly swept through March, the idea is said to have sprung from the imaginative mind of an Irish pub owner in the heart of Staten Island.
This alleged "genius" was none other than a cunning businessman, as his son puts it, whose simple idea of staking ten bucks on the final four teams and the national champion turned an unassuming pub into a must-visit haven promising a life-changing payout.
"We unleashed a beast that just exploded over time," current bar owner Terence Haggerty admitted. "Reminiscing on those days, I wonder how on earth we managed to pull that off?"
Over the decades of MJ and KG, Michael and Chris, through word of mouth and mountains of opportunities, the contests grew considerably - so much so that the West Brighton neighborhood darling, Jody's Club Forest, lays claim (albeit one other rival for the crown) to having ignited the bracket into a billion-dollar juggernaut.
Haggerty's parents, Mary and Jody, established the club in 1976, and by the following college basketball season, they had conjured a plan to boost business: run a humble college basketball pool. The guidelines were straightforward: pay $10 to predict only the final four teams, the national champ, and total points as a tiebreaker in a winner-take-all format. With the tournament field of 32 teams, there was no requirement to fill every round, making the competition considerably less daunting than the modern-day monstrosity.
By the time Jody's Club Forest drew the curtains on the pool in 2006, various authorities from the IRS to Sports Illustrated scoffed at its activities. The grand prize for the winner had skyrocketed to a staggering $1.6 million - an astronomical sum that paled in comparison to the estimated $11.9 billion dollars wagered on college basketball in the United States in 2005.
"We never in our wildest dreams could have imagined where it led," Haggerty lamented.
Kentucky's Clandestine Bracket: The Under-the-Radar Challenger
Every March needs an underdog, a Cinderella to cheer for, and Jody's Forest Club can boast a contender for the originator of gambling-related tournaments. However, deep within the heart of bourbon, basketball, and the cradle of the Louisville Slugger, lies the possibility that the idea of predicting a victor for each game may have first taken flight in 1970s Kentucky.
Legend has it that Bob Stinson, a postal worker in the bluegrass state, applied the format of using his recreational softball league bracket and the sensational hype around Kentucky Derby betting slips to concoct his own bracket for the 1978 NCAA Tournament.
"My dad simply thought filling out brackets would be an entertaining pastime," said his son, Damon Stinson. "It was a wager of sorts but remained more about who knew college basketball better."
Stinson claims his father used a ruler and plain paper to sketch brackets and levied a mere nominal entry fee. The winner earned more bragging rights than a life-altering bounty; that was just fine with Bob Stinson, a peripatetic traveler who carried brackets with him every March.
"He was pleased as punch about it," Damon Stinson said. "Rather than just passively watching games, he believed we should give each game a shot. He self-promoted the concept. He was tech-savvy back then. As soon as Excel appeared, the first thing my dad did was to build a tournament bracket using it. He emailed that to everyone. That's how participation expanded, and everything spiraled out of control."
Damon Stinson once faced the threat of suspension from a Catholic school for selling brackets to other pupils for ten bucks a pop, and he was caught red-handed with a hefty sum of cash and an assortment of brackets in his backpack.
Claiming his father was the true inventor of the March Madness pool, Damon Stinson said, "Yes, 100% - because he traveled for work, nobody had seen what he was doing. He was a pioneer in the modern age, and he spread it across the country."
Celebrating the Uncharacteristic Beginnings of March Madness
There is no trace of acknowledgment at Jody's Club that it was ever the cradle of basketball bets. No banner outside, no photos of past champions or framed snapshots of winning tickets. The decor is primarily an ode to Haggerty's parents, who raised their children roughly twelve blocks away.
Haggerty conceded that there's no concrete proof the bar was the first to organize a structured pool.
"If someone claimed it as theirs, so be it," Haggerty said. "Look around here. This isn't something we usually spotlight. It wasn't in line with our typical character or my father's values. If I were to honor it, I wouldn't feel right doing so."
Haggerty doesn't possess any records of winning tickets - not even the $1.6 million jackpot - but a past champion still calls Jody's Club home, clutching a beer and dreaming of reclaiming the six-figure prize he snagged in 2003. Jack Driscoll participated nearly every year throughout the life of the pool and still recalls the exhilaration of placing his inaugural bet each March.
"The deadline for submitting tickets was as significant as any holiday around here," Driscoll said.
Driscoll hit it big when Syracuse claimed the title. He used the windfall to embark on home improvements, including a lavish new kitchen.
The undeniable March Madness at Jody's Club was figuring out where to hide piles upon piles of cash. No ordinary cash register would contain the hundreds, then thousands, and, on two separate occasions, millions wagered in the pool. The family once implored a nun to safeguard a sizable cache of cash.
"It was hidden here, hidden there, concealed in various spots," Haggerty said. "Banks. At one point, it was tucked away in houses. It was quite the operation."
The pool was essentially a family enterprise, and it took days in an era devoid of fast and efficient computational technology to input all the picks. The lines to purchase a ticket - firefighters, police officers, politicians, and even the Mike and the Mad Dog duo, according to Haggerty - twisted down the streets. Collection of the tickets was forced into neighboring dry cleaners and other local watering holes to mitigate the chaos and ensure a fair shot for every participant.
"It was the best week of the year," Haggerty said.
The Gambling Empire Crumbles
The jackpot climbed to approximately $997,000 in 2004 and surpassed $1.2 million the following year - eerily similar figures to the first $1,000 pool in 1977, where the entry fee still remained an unchanged $10, cash only - before it soared to 166,000 entries and a $1.6 million prize in 2006.
Fuelled by the escalating media frenzy, the numbers raised suspicion among federal authorities. Following a supposed claim for wins on a tax form, the IRS came calling on Jody's Club's doorstep. The bar was innocent of taking cuts from the pool, and they had never profited from the seasonal business - but the IRS found Jody Haggerty guilty of underreporting his income across three years. Haggerty confessed to tax evasion charges, received probation, and was compelled to repay restitution.
The charges proved to be a fatal blow to Jody's share of the March Madness empire.
Embarrassed by the unwanted attention, Jody Haggerty permanently discontinued the pool ahead of the 2007 tournament. He passed away in 2016 without having made another March bet within the pub.
"The events that transpired would break any man's spirit," the 42-year-old Terence Haggerty said of his father's misfortunes. "My father was never the same after it."
Even after his mother's demise in 2019, Haggerty never seriously considered resuming the pool.
"What we endured was nothing short of abominable," Haggerty said. "But if I were to resurrect it, it would skyrocket in no time."
Jody's Club Forest remains a haven for basketball enthusiasts who are privy to the bar's often debated role - was it truly the first? Does it even matter? - in making betting pools and the art of bracketology an integral aspect of March Madness.
"If we started a movement that hasn't been replicated since," Haggerty said, "then we deserve a place in history."
- Terence Haggerty, the current owner of Jody's Club Forest, defined the concept of sports-betting as a result of his parents' humble college basketball pool in the 1970s, which later grew to include prediction of winners for each game, thus marking the birthplace of modern-day bracket pools.
- Students at a Catholic school in the 1970s participated in betting on college basketball by filling out brackets, mirroring the activities at Kentucky's Jody's Club Forest, hinting at the possibility of a simultaneous, under-the-radar challenge for bracket originators.
- The root of sports-betting can be traced back to a Staten Island Irish pub, Jody's Club Forest, as its simple $10 bet on the final four teams and the national champion transformed the bar into a sports-betting mecca, giving birth to the bracket craze that eventually captured the attention of sports enthusiasts worldwide, including students and pioneers in other regions.
