Sports Betting Participation, Perceived Consequences, and Mental Health Among U.S. College Students: A Multilevel Analysis

For decades, the landscape of legal sports wagering in the United States was a quiet, localized affair, largely confined to a few specific states where one had to physically walk into a building to place a bet. That changed in 2018 when the federal ban was lifted, allowing states to open their own markets. By 2026, the activity had exploded into a digital phenomenon, available at any moment on a smartphone to millions of people. College students, already immersed in sports culture and targeted by a relentless wave of advertising, became a primary focus of concern. Public health officials and university counselors worried that the ease of access was leading young people into financial trouble and psychological distress. The prevailing assumption was simple: if a student was betting, they were likely suffering. However, this view relied on small, isolated studies that could not tell the difference between the act of betting itself and the specific types of students who chose to bet. To understand the true relationship between wagering and mental well-being, researchers needed to look at the whole picture, separating the behavior from the person.

A researcher at Jackson State University set out to test these assumptions using the largest and most diverse dataset ever assembled on this topic. They turned to the 2024–2025 Healthy Minds Study, a massive national survey that reached 37,121 students across 135 different colleges and universities. Instead of asking just a few students at one school, they analyzed a randomly selected group from across the country, allowing them to account for differences in campus culture, state laws, and student demographics. Their goal was to see if betting participation actually caused depression or anxiety, or if the link was an illusion created by who was betting in the first place. They also wanted to know if the frequency of betting mattered, or if the real danger lay in how the students felt about their own gambling habits.

The initial numbers revealed a stark divide in who was participating. Nearly 9 percent of the students surveyed said they had ever bet on sports, but this number was heavily skewed by gender. About 20 percent of male students had placed a bet, compared to less than 5 percent of female students. When the researchers looked at the raw data without adjusting for these differences, a surprising pattern emerged: the students who bet actually reported slightly better mental health than those who did not. They felt less lonely and more "flourishing," a measure of positive well-being. However, this was not because betting made them happy. Once the researchers accounted for the fact that men generally report lower levels of depression and anxiety than women, the protective effect vanished. The act of betting itself had no connection to depression, anxiety, or suicidal thoughts. The apparent link was simply a result of the demographics of the bettors, not the activity.

The study also challenged the idea that betting more often leads to more harm. Among the students who did bet, the frequency of using sportsbook apps showed no relationship to their mental health. Whether a student bet rarely or often, their levels of depression and flourishing remained the same. This finding suggests that for the vast majority of college students, sports betting is a recreational, socially embedded activity that does not inherently damage their psychological state. In fact, bettors were nearly twice as likely to engage in binge drinking compared to non-bettors, a pattern that aligns with the social nature of watching sports and celebrating with peers, rather than a sign of deep distress.

The true signal of harm appeared only when the researcher asked a different question. Instead of focusing on how much or how often students bet, they asked if the students felt their betting had caused negative consequences. A small group, representing just 4.5 percent of all bettors, agreed with a statement indicating they had experienced such consequences. This tiny minority told a very different story. These students reported significantly higher levels of depression and lower levels of flourishing than their peers who bet without feeling negative effects. The difference in depression scores was substantial, equivalent to a jump from mild to moderate symptoms. Yet, despite feeling worse and recognizing a need for help, this group was less likely to have ever sought treatment than other bettors. They were the most distressed, yet the least connected to the support systems available to them.

The study also uncovered a complex layer involving race and ethnicity. While the overall data showed no link between betting and depression, the relationship flipped depending on the student's background. Among White students, those who bet reported slightly lower depression scores than non-bettors, mirroring the general trend. However, among Hispanic and Latino students, the pattern reversed: those who bet reported higher levels of depression. This suggests that the experience of betting is not uniform across all student populations and that a single, broad conclusion cannot apply to every group.

These findings offer a clear path forward for universities and mental health professionals. The traditional approach of screening students based on how much they bet or how often they use betting apps is likely to miss the people who actually need help. It flags the large group of students who are betting recreationally and doing fine, while overlooking the small, struggling minority who feel the negative impact of their actions. The research indicates that campuses should shift their focus from participation to perception. By asking students directly about the consequences they feel and ensuring that counseling services are accessible and free of stigma, institutions can better reach the few students for whom sports betting has become a genuine problem. The data shows that for most, the activity is harmless, but for a vulnerable few, the harm is real, silent, and currently going unnoticed.