Art Schlichter’s 66 years old, and he was in the news again less than a year ago. For well over 40 years now, anytime Art Schlichter’s in the news, it’s never for something good.
This time — in August 2025, in an Indiana courtroom — he was pleading guilty to a felony drug possession charge. If you know the Art Schlichter story, you know he didn’t become a sports pariah for drug usage.
Gambling is what did him in.
Betting sank its hooks into Schlichter from the time he was a teenager going to the racetrack. Though concealed, his addiction was metastasizing in the late 1970s and early 1980s when he was one of the top quarterbacks in college football, a four-year starter at Ohio State, the Buckeyes’ career total offense leader when he finished, top six in Heisman Trophy voting three years in a row.
Not long after the Baltimore Colts took Schlichter fourth overall in the 1982 NFL draft, gambling debts took him down and the sordid story came to light. His demons won then and it was only the start to Schlichter’s becoming a chronic miscreant and fraudster. In 2022, IndyStar columnist Gregg Doyel described Schlichter as “someone who has spent the better part of his adult life hurting everyone around him.”
“He’s a con-artist and a thief, Art Schlichter, who has left misery in his wake,” Doyel said.
Before we go any further, I’m in no way trying to connect the character of Art Schlichter to that of Brendan Sorsby. I’m pointing out that Schlichter’s lifetime of legal problems sprang from a gambling addiction, and for many people this week those two words don’t seem nearly as alarming as they should be.
I thought of the Schlichter story this week after news broke Monday that Sorsby, one of the top quarterbacks in college football, prize of the Texas Tech football portal class, is the subject of an NCAA gambling investigation. ESPN reported evidence of Sorsby’s making “thousands of online bets on a variety of sports via a gambling app, which jeopardizes his eligibility with Texas Tech.”
Tech announced Sorsby’s intent “to enter a residential treatment program for a gambling addiction.”
Since then, in discussions online, on social media and on the airwaves, there’s been much talk about the wrong priorities: What are the chances Brendan Sorsby plays in 2026? How soon will he be released from treatment? What legal defense is being revved up on his behalf? Until Sorsby’s eligibility is determined, is Kirk Francis or Lloyd Jones III the guy? What’s the latest on Will Hammond’s recovery from ACL surgery? If Cincinnati knew of Sorsby’s gambling last year and kept it on the down low, can Texas Tech turn in the Bearcats as payback?
All pertinent questions, but not the most important.
The most important has to do with Brendan Sorsby, the person. Can he conquer this, and can Texas Tech trust him? Should Texas Tech trust him?
When a player is returning from serious injury — let’s say Will Hammond from a torn knee ligament, for example — it should always be stressed that he’s not going to be immediately the same as before from the first week.
That goes double for anyone coming out of treatment for gambling addiction. Based on what’s reported — that the player in question made thousands of bets — that’s an enormous red flag. An On3 report indicated Sorsby attended Cincinnati Reds games and made live bets on balls and strikes, ranging from $2.50 to less than $1 per pitch. The amounts aren’t what matters. The proclivity for wagering and the frequency are what should get everyone’s attention.
Color me skeptical that Sorsby can emerge from a month or two of treatment and be all good, no more problem.
If the Schlichter story as a cautionary tale is too harsh — and maybe it is — here’s another, everyday example. This from Arnie Wexler, who survived his own gambling addiction to become a leading voice in training and education to others fighting that battle.
“I’m in Florida here and I go to a 12-step program,” Wexler told an interviewer in 2018, “and four young kids walk in about a month ago between the ages of 17 and 22, and all four of them were hooked on internet gambling and losing all kinds of money.”
Sorsby has matters more important than how soon he can get back onto the field. The NCAA probably will close that door anyway, at least for 2026. Its rules are clear: Bet on your own team — as Sorsby allegedly did, in 2022 with Indiana — and you face a permanent ban.
Texas Tech can stand by him, give him all the help possible, but trying to get him back in the game ASAP … Is that really in his best interests?
This article originally appeared on Lubbock Avalanche-Journal: We’re having the wrong discussion in regard to Brendan Sorsby | Opinion
Reporting by Don Williams, Lubbock Avalanche-Journal / Lubbock Avalanche-Journal
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