CLAIRE VOYANT’S 2015 GRAND NATIONAL…

‘They’re crossing the Melling Road and it’s Rocky Creek and Godsmejudge that continue to dispute it; three lengths back to Shutthefrontdoor and a running-on Goonyella then comes Monbeg Dude. These are clear of a loose horse and the chasers headed by Soll.

‘They’re into the straight and facing up to the last two fences. Rocky Creek is edging ahead and is going to rise first ahead of Godsmejudge with Shutthefrontdoor still three lengths away in third. It’s five lengths back to Goonyella. Monbeg Dude is now four lengths back in fifth but he is closing steadily. The leaders are over safely. On touching down Rocky Creek lands a length ahead. Godsmejudge is over in second but he looks tired. McCoy is now making a move on Shutthefrontdoor and is only two lengths away.

‘Here’s the run to the last: still it’s Rocky Creek by just over a length – make that two now; I do believe he is going for home. Shutthefrontdoor has joined Godsmejudge for second. Four lengths back to Goonyella and then two to Monbeg Dude. The race can only concern these now as they’re ragged in behind.

‘Coming to the last – almost at the end of their four mile-plus marathon – but still it feels as if there’s a long way to go and that anything could happen. Rocky Creek takes it with a three length lead. He’s over – brushing through the top of the fence – Shutthefrontdoor lands in second. Godsmejudge is looking tired back in third ahead of Goonyella and Monbeg Dude who are disputing fourth.

‘Ahead is the heartbreak of the long run-in. They are starting on their final climb, approaching the Elbow. It’s Rocky Creek chased by Shutthefrontdoor. They’re on the run to the line now and the leader is getting weary as Shutthefrontdoor appears to be closing. The crowd is raising the roof as McCoy is in overdrive. Is it possible? Can they get up?

‘Rocky Creek still leads but he’s been prominent for a long time and he’s looking lonely in front. Shutthefrontdoor has reduced the lead to length. We’re set for a pulsating finish. It’s Rocky Creek far side, Shutthefrontdoor stands’ side; the crowd is willing McCoy but he’s not there yet. Rocky Creek is fighting back – gallant as a gladiator – he’s finding more from somewhere!

‘There’s a hundred and fifty yards to race. Still it’s Rocky Creek in front by three-parts of a length. But the gap is narrowing. Shutthefrontdoor is beginning to get up. It’s Rocky Creek by half-a-length but McCoy is the cavalry and he’s coming!

‘There’s a hundred yards to race; and what a race it’s become! Both horses are digging deep. Neither look like cracking but Rocky Creek can find no more. Shutthefrontdoor is the one that’s finishing – he’s the one with an ounce of reserve left! They’re neck and neck beneath packed stands. The crowd is raising the roof. You’ve never heard anything like it!

‘McCoy’s taken it up; Shutthefrontdoor hits the front for the first time. He’s a head in front; now it’s a neck, now half-a-length! Unbelievably, after thirty fences and four miles, Shutthefrontdoor is producing a sprint finish – he’s claimed the National – McCoy’s done it in the shadow of the post!

‘There’s bedlam below me. Racegoers are trying to get on to the track. It’s like England’s World Cup win in 1966 all over again! McCoy-mania has broken out! The best-backed favourite for the race since Red Rum has won and McCoy is ecstatic. And so are the punters who helped force this horse’s price down to 5/2. I’ve never seen anything like it, not even here at Aintree: the home of drama!

‘McCoy is about to be honoured as he and Shutthefrontdoor make their weary way to the unsaddling enclosure. There are so many people surrounding them you can hardly make horse and rider out. They are being mobbed by an exultant crowd!

‘In all this excitement I need to draw breath. Let me bring you up to date with the full result:
1st: Shutthefrontdoor 5/2Fav
2nd: Rocky Creek 9/1
3rd: Goonyella 25/1
4th: Monbeg Dude 33/1
5th: Godsmejudge 25/1

‘It’s a disaster for bookmakers but it’s a triumph for McCoy and for this great race alike. It’s the kind of fairytale result that only the National can provide – why it’s Red Rum and Aldaniti combined. It’s the result only fiction writers could have conceived; yet it’s happened for real, played out right in front of a packed stands here at Aintree and witnessed by ten million viewers around the world.
‘There goes McCoy’s whip – he’s thrown it to the crowd, like he no longer needs it. And he doesn’t – surely this is to be his last ride. And what a ride! This is the end of an era. The Champ goes out on a winning ride and that ride is in the greatest race of them all – The Grand National!’

Maybe not … then again …

CHELTENHAM MUSINGS…

On Tuesday I popped into my club with Margo Leadbetter (Mrs Spy). In a piece already loaded with pseudonyms I should point out I call it my club, in fact it is the local Weatherspoons in Newbury. Tuesday is steak day, when you can get a steak meal at a discount and a free drink. Where possible the film appreciation society (consisting of myself and another equally sad individual) convenes on a Tuesday, its visits to the cinema coinciding with a trip to our club as we refer to it. From there we discuss the movie we have seen, down a few sherbets and dine out on steak – something (in keeping with other so-called privileges) neither of us receives on a regular basis at home.

As it has been half-term recently, suitable films for a couple of aging duffers have been thin on the ground. Our last effort was Kingsman: The Secret Service – which, with an improbable script that only appealed to those with a mental age of fourteen or below, owes an apology to the three-year Galileo colt trained by John Gosden of the same name. Of course there is always Fifty Shades Of Grey, but those with a preponderance for such material might like to know that there is an infinitely better alternative currently available called The Duke of Burgundy. You might also be gratified to know its cast is all-female.

So, bereft of my companion, after a few stilted greetings with regulars, I steered Mrs Spy to an oak-panelled section of the pub which resembles the interior of an old-fashioned railway carriage. We were seated in this annexe when a couple of out-of-control kiddie-winkies encroached on our tranquillity by shrieking and running from table to table. Momentarily forgetting with whom I was dining, my immediate response was to suggest someone should tell them to shut the **** up. This did not go down well with my lady companion but I reasoned my supposed rudeness was matched by that of the mother who allowed her little beasts to run around unchecked. Why do these women think it is acceptable to inflict us with the behaviour of their awful children? It’s a good job we don’t live in America – in which case I fear my hand may have clasped the butt of my Glock.

However, we and all around survived and the ghastly little ensemble moved on. That was when my ears pricked up at the news that filtered from the next table: it was only a fortnight away. What was? The start of the Flat? The Dubai World Cup? The General Election?

‘It’ of course is Cheltenham. And that’s as close as it is. Rather like the current crop of films – good but not quite Carling (Ex-Machina, Fury and Whiplash being the best in the club’s opinion) – Cheltenham looks a little lacking this year. Doubtless it will rewrite that perception once it starts; after all, Cheltenham is, well, Cheltenham.

But right now I am not sure how involved I shall be. Four short-priced favourites kick-off the meeting on Tuesday when there could be blood on the canvas (or betting ring). Douvan is top-priced at 7/4 for the Supreme – Un De Sceaux as low as 1/2 for the Arkle. Then there is 1/1 shot Faugheen in the Champion Hurdle, followed by the 4/7 chance Annie Power in the Mares’ Final.

Wednesday is dominated by the comeback kings Sprinter Sacre and Sire De Grugy in the Champion Chase. Their presence polarises opinion with groups evenly split between those that think the clock will be turned back and those that think it will advance with Dodging Bullets.

And on Friday we are faced with another Marmite decision when Silviniaco Conti attempts to shrug aside two monumental disappointments over this course and distance in the Gold Cup. There is the strong suspicion he doesn’t stay; on the other hand maybe it’s the track, but Paul Nicholls says there is no problem. Maybe not…

Of course these races offer the bare bones of numerous script options. Therein lies the intrigue supplied by racing that often promises more than it delivers, but richly layers the cake when the anticipated dish is served.

All will be revealed.

Researching the major races, it crossed my mind the mother should take her two unruly children to Cheltenham and dump them in the car park where they can run around and shriek all they like. Maybe Angelina Jolie will come along and adopt them.
CHRISTMAS GREETINGS…

Christmas is upon us it seems. Once Strictly Come Dancing concludes and they publish the Boxing Day declarations there is no point in denying it any longer.

I shall refrain from quoting Slade, whose accountant surely sifts through holiday brochures at this time. But, however you look at it or intend to spend it, it is kind of Christmas. You know the time of year when you can freely admit you prefer breasts to legs, when you can drink champagne for breakfast and pretend to like the person you detest with a vengeance for the rest of the year.

Herewith, with the aid of some of the best quotes, is a somewhat jaundiced, but hopefully humorous look at the coming festive period:

Christmas begins about the first of December with an office party and ends when you finally realise what you spent – around April fifteenth of the following year. –P.J. Rourke

What I don’t like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day. – Phyliss Diller

Christmas is a time when you get homesick – even when you’re home. – Carol Nelson

Christmas is the season when you buy this year’s gifts with next year’s money.

People can’t concentrate properly on blowing other people to pieces if their minds are poisoned by thoughts suitable to the twenty-fifth of December. – Ogden Nash

The Supreme Court has ruled that they cannot have a nativity scene in Washington D.C. This wasn’t for any religious reasons. They couldn’t find three wise men and a virgin. – Jay Leno

The one thing women don’t want to find in their stockings on Christmas morning is their husband. – Joan Rivers

Three phrases that sum up Christmas are: Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men, and Batteries not Included.

I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a note saying: Toys not included. – Bernard Manning

Santa is very jolly because he knows where all the bad girls live. – Dennis Miller

Santa has the right idea – he visits people once a year. – Victor Borge

I never believed in Santa Claus because I knew no white dude would come into my neighbourhood after dark. – Dick Gregory.

A man bought his wife a beautiful diamond ring for Christmas. After hearing about such an extravagant gift, a friend of his commented, ‘I thought she wanted one of those SUVs.’ ‘She did,’ the man replied. ‘But where was I going to find a fake Honda?’

Next to a circus there ain’t nothing that packs up and tears out faster than the Christmas spirit. – Kin Hubbard

Maybe the last word should go to Bob Hope, who once said, ‘My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?’

Have a good one…

NICKY SET TO BECOME CHRISTMAS SAINT…

We all need a cash injection this time of year. With two-and-a-bit frantic weeks left to Christmas, gambling on horses may be an unlikely source for many but help may be at hand. For, although not about to streak across the wintry sky pulled by reindeer, a different Saint Nick, in the shape of Nicky Henderson (who would be a natural in a red coat and a white beard) could ride to the rescue from his stable in Lambourn.

Many of the Seven Barrows inmates were said to be in need of their debut runs but there is nothing wrong with the overall form of the yard. With typical understatement and caution, Mr Henderson is loading his ammunition with care. Following a soggy autumn that curtailed battle plans, the powerful team are now assembling with intent. After three winners at Newbury over the Hennessy meeting, one or two of those involved in early skirmishes this season look ready to return to action and fire broadsides this Saturday.

In the interests of his readers and nothing whatsoever to do with an on-tap supply of London Pride, your intrepid correspondent recently paid a mid-week visit to Lambourn in an attempt to track down some inside-information.

 

Two pints in comes the news that after his excellent effort under top weight at Cheltenham in the Paddy Power, Oscar Whisky has thrived at home and will line-up at Sandown for the Tingle Creek in the form of his life. On balance I would prefer him to be in the form of his life rather than to be working the house down, which often tells us little once we realise the house is still standing. Some metaphors resonate with me: form of his life is one. Armed with such knowledge, all you have to do is work out if being in such a condition entitles the horse in question to win his targeted race. In this case it does. With several big guns notable by their absence, this year’s renewal of the Grade 1 is up for grabs. Baldur Succes is the current market leader and along with fellow Grade 1 scorer God’s Own, with whom he is closely matched on their running at Punchestown in the spring and at Exeter last month, they look the main dangers. Dodging Bullets and Somersby are unconvincing at this level, as is Hinterland (winner on this card last year), whilst promising Vukovar lacks the experience. Currently available at 7/1, Oscar Whisky looks significantly overpriced here.

 

Another pint in (or is it two?) and a packet of peanuts later comes the news that Cup Final (often an eye-catcher; he chased home Irving twice last season over an inadequate trip), having put in a satisfactory reappearance at Cheltenham in November, has improved greatly since and is expected to step into the limelight on the same card at Sandown in the handicap over 2m 6f – won by Saphir Du Rheu last year. Actually, I have watered down the prediction somewhat. By now, with the Prides going down quicker than a woman’s knickers at a hen night, Cup Final is poised to piss-up. That is to say – and at least I hope I am relaying this correctly – he is about to piss-up in his allotted race as opposed to attend such a function in the Pheasant on Saturday night.

 

With Sweet Deal (who relishes easy ground) a possibility in the listed handicap hurdle at 2.25, the Henderson stable is strongly represented at Sandown on Saturday and although by now, some five pints later, a treble was a formality, even in the light of day it is clear all three have serious claims.

 

Potential decimation of Saturday’s cards does not stop at the Esher track. With Dawalan (an encouraging staying-on fourth at Haydock two weeks ago), Ma Filleule (forget that Down Royal run in November) and Hunt Ball (returning to fences after a pipe-opener over timber at Ascot) engaged at Aintree, the Henderson yard looks set to fire a serious salvo on Saturday.

 

Being realistic, and without an infusion of London Pride, none of the targets is easy. Resistance will be stiff but, although at present Oscar Whisky and Cup Final are the horses on the lips of those that pick up brooms and make leather creak at Seven Barrows, the supporting cast from the stable looks too strong to overlook.

A light hearted Blog written by Spy one of my close associates who has a way with a pen, a strong opinion on many subjects and a hearty disregard for authority! Like many of us gamblers eh? I hope you enjoy the banter!

All the best

Bob

FRIDAY/ SATURDAY NOVEMBER 21ST/22nd:

Some of you with unlimited patience may be expecting this to contain tips for Saturday. It might do. If it’s all right with you, I’ll see how it goes. What follows might be such a good piece that there is no need to spoil it by suggesting readers back three losers tomorrow.
So how has a confirmed Flat racing follower been spending his time since the Racing Post at Doncaster? To be truthful, mindful I might be scratching to contribute to the domestic budget over the next few months, I have been trying to keep in Mrs Spy’s good books. That in itself is no easy task: I might as well attempt to pick the winner of next year’s Hunt Cup. Right now Mrs Spy is more inclined towards Strictly Come Dancing’s Pasha Kovalev than she is towards me. Young, fit, handsome and apparently charming – it’s a mystery what she sees in him.
In the face of such competition I have been towing the line. This means, rather like those two characters on a tandem in Little Britain, I am morphing into a lady that lunches. We have been spotted in the odd twee establishment that has chintz curtains and home-made cakes and biscuits on its counter as opposed to beer pumps. It appears I am being taught to behave like a lady. I no longer place my elbows on the table and don’t read a racing paper whilst awaiting my bowl of pasta. I keep my voice down when speaking. I drink tea with a finger pointing skyward and no longer bolt my food in anticipation of the start to a Newmarket maiden. To be truthful I am dreading the day when Mrs Spy returns from one of her shopping expeditions with a size 26 dress. My name is Peter, but you can call be Paula!
Hoping to make recompense in other ways I took Mrs Spy to a party in the village last week. It started off pretty well and could have passed as a normal get-together for the first hour. But, given the assembled company, I should have known it wouldn’t last. Without too much warning conversation got louder as drink flowed liberally. One of the problems with house parties is that there are invariably more people wanting a pee than there are lavatories. In particular this applies if one of said rooms is occupied by a couple having a stand up go in the shower. This was apparently the case when, after her second lemonade, Mrs Spy stumbled into the upstairs bathroom. Needless to say the sight of the two naked protagonists behind a shower curtain that was flapping in motion with their jiggling was enough to encourage her to collect her coat.

We left shortly afterwards so I never really knew how the evening developed.
We are booked in at a hotel at Stratford on Sunday night (as far as I know there is no racing at the nearby track on Monday or Tuesday). I believe the plan is to avail ourselves of some culture and, if I behave, there is a possibility that we will visit nearby Warwick (again no racing there as far as I know) in order to see the castle. As Highclere Castle is only seven miles away from where we live, I am at a loss to see why we should travel that far to see another one. Perhaps they serve crumpets and tea!
The matinee winter film club I am member of (there are only two of us) has reconvened. So far our tally of films is three: Fury (gripping and awarded universal maximum marks); Interstellar (over-long and muddled with continuity issues and not in the same league as 2001: A Space Odyssey) and The Imitation Game (excellent performance from Benedict Cumberbatch and laudable British film that is worth seeing, although it does suffer from financial constraints). In tandem with our viewing, as is tradition, the club has also availed itself of three evening meals in The Hatchet at Newbury where, after London Pride aperitifs, we have demolished several bottles of Shiraz. Worryingly, we are becoming familiar to and, in the case of my companion, with the cheeky Polish waitress who has a pair of buttocks that sway beneath her black trousers like oversized marshmallows. The trouble with our present arrangement is that we have to catch buses home and the time of the last to leave Newbury is 6.40, curtailing any further nocturnal activity.

Talking of Newbury I have given next week’s Hennessy a scan, coming to the conclusion that second-season chaser Djakadam and solid jumper Many Clouds are the two most interesting contenders. Unfortunately I receive no marks for originality here as they are first and second favourites in the current betting. I don’t intend to attend. The Hennessy is Newbury’s busiest meeting of the year. This close to the grip of winter it gets cold very quickly. I don’t much fancy shivering on the steps of the stands wanting to relieve myself whilst they slog it out in the fading light.

It is incumbent on me to point out that after they pass the post in the Hennessy there will be less than three weeks remaining before Christmas Day. For some of us that is a fearsome thought. What with the need to buy presents, send cards and arrange enough provisions to withstand a nuclear exchange, it means life is basically on hold for twenty-five days. Why do we fall for this every year? It is further evidence of our willingness as a species to be led through the nose by others. There is an alternative. Those of us of a likeminded persuasion could always cancel the whole affair. If we can find one now there is a Bird Flu scare, we could buy a frozen turkey. This is not compulsory, but turkeys are handy as once cooked they remove the necessity to do battle in the kitchen for at least another week. A cooked turkey can be eaten cold with mash, fricassee d (if you know how – I don’t – I am not even sure if I have spelled it correctly!) curried, stir-fried or turned into gruel. I have already made some preparation for Christmas, having desisted from working-out with no intention of doing so until January of next year. All that remains is to lock the doors, check the wine cheese and beer supply, and grump my way through the last of 2014.
Right now, sensing this is not the outstanding piece of copy I had hopes for when I started, I feel obliged to check tomorrow’s runners.
Today’s Ascot card started with a £300,000 purchase making his debut over timber. For that sort of money I would expect more than a racehorse that is about to embark on an uncertain career over obstacles. I would also prefer to be able to pronounce its name. That said, judging by his imposing looks and the way he loped over his hurdles, it is easy to see why someone was persuaded to part with enough to purchase two Porsches and an Aston Martin on Alisier D’irlande. Trouble is, on today’s showing, he looks the part but lacks a change of gear. However, the ground was mucky, the opposition equally promising and he will probably prove more effective over further. For those involved in this dubious financial venture, the dreams lives on!
So for tomorrow… And what are we supposed to make of the Betfair Chase? Apparently there is confidence behind last year’s winner Cue Card, but he hardly lines up with ideal credentials. With enviable form figures to his name, maybe I am being unkind. Similarly, Silviniaco Conti is not entirely convincing in Grade 1 company and neither is Dynaste over this trip and on this ground. That leaves us with Taquin Du Seuil, who has attracted recent money. However, his jumping in the Charlie Hall left something to be desired and he meets the winner, Menorah, on 5lbs worse terms. Having given the impression he is capable of better, he is a tentative selection in a true Gold Cup rehearsal but he will need to establish a much better rhythm in running.
Faugheen and The New One will be interesting in their respective events but are obviously not betting propositions.
Mince pie anyone?

IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN…

With Newmarket earlier this week and Doncaster and Newbury this weekend, it seems we have turned full circle. Is it really five months ago that the 2014 Flat racing season was kick-started in earnest by the Craven and the Greenham? Actually it is…

So the season is speeding to its end. Maybe I am holding on to it for too long as the 2014/15 National Hunt season gathers pace. The thing is, try as I might, I cannot get excited about the re-emergence of steeplechasing, or, as my old colleague Patrick Veitch used to refer to it, as “Jumping Bollocks”.

I received an email the other day from ATR informing me they had missed jumping and wondering if I had also. I resisted the temptation to reply…

Of course it is no surprise that ATR has missed jumping. Judged on their coverage of Flat racing – with all the best meetings bar one (Doncaster) safely under the RUK umbrella – they would wouldn’t they.

But I have no intention of spoiling the fun of others during the coming months. If jumping is your thing, then here’s to a vintage season for you.

Strangely I had the best Cheltenham in living memory last year – it was a festival that would have heartened any so-called professional. For anyone hoping that might be repeated, if only in part come next March, be assured, this year was a one-off. Tipping winners on a day-to-day basis that even included those at double-figure prices is unheard of in this neck of the woods. Sad to say, I was merely the recipient of an adjustment process administered by the Law of Probability. Noting I had not been able to back more than one winner a year (if that) up to 2014, it was redressing the imbalance. Imbalance redressed, normal service will doubtless be resumed this season.

But I am supposed to make my living from backing and trading in horses. So what to do? Success at this business is dependent on a couple of factors: intuition, or a knack (I have talked of this before) and the desire and interest to go that extra mile when researching racecards. The problem for me is that I don’t have the kind of passion for jumping that I have for Flat racing, so I approach a day’s racing at Wincanton or Worcester with the same frame of mind as someone delivering milk. That is to say I will do it, but only until the shift is finished.

I contend that attitude falls short of the required standard. Okay, there are meetings at Cheltenham and Sandown that quicken the pulse, but by and large it’s all pretty much the same to me. To quote Rory Bremner: it’s a case of a brown horse leading another brown horse, with another brown horse making ground up the inside.

However, with Meydan not starting until January, in order to pay the fuel bills this winter I shall have to familiarise myself with some of the names. Actually I have long thought there are only five yards at most to concern ourselves with on the jumping front. At one time I thought all I had to do was wait for the phone to ring from a man within one of them and I could bet blind. You soon learn! After a string of bumper losers at odds of 7/4 or less and never a word about the 10/1 chance in the handicap, I gave up the ghost and invested in a form book.

It is now late in October – the clocks go back this weekend – and the last jump race I watched was at Aintree in April.

This leaves me to make a suggestion. It is the purpose of this website is to entertain and inform. I do my best, but maybe, just maybe, one or two of you would like to assist. I am looking to recruit a few pundits that may be able to post tips for the upcoming season. You don’t have to give your actual names. There is no need for the bank manager or the missus to know. You can use such pseudonyms as thechequeisinthepost.com, myotherjobisasabrainsurgeon, or athermajestyspleasure@aol.com. Get in touch – you never know – you might surprise yourself!

Leaving aside the obvious debatable wisdom of staging the Group 1 Racing Post at Doncaster on the same day as the Group 3 Horris Hill at Newbury this Saturday – both important end of season juvenile races – last Saturday’s Champions’ Day fixture seems to have come under fire for similar reasons. Apparently there is a call from certain quarters for the meeting to be re-scheduled to an earlier time of the year when the ground is less likely to resemble a field from World War I. The problem with such a move would be that, rather like the clamour to exit the European Market, such action would result in serious repercussions. Whilst I have no problem with us either re-negotiating our terms in Europe or leaving altogether (after all the rules have been altered in running by Brussels), I cannot be in favour of our withdrawal from the Pattern established by the major horse racing nations within Europe. France stages the Prix de L’Arc de Triomphe on the first Sunday in October, and that cannot and should not be altered. To some it is the biggest race of the season and, again, I would not wish to quibble with such a statement.

The Champion Stakes is designed for top class performers that have been campaigned with autumn in mind. Run two weeks after the Arc, it also provides a second last gasp opportunity to those refugees from Longchamp’s showpiece. Those that may not have had the rub of the green at Longchamp, or may be better over ten furlongs than twelve get another bite of a big cherry if they can maintain their form under such circumstances.

The Pattern has a long-established history. It may not always suit individual members, but it works. In particular there is a successful exchange between the UK and the French (the most successful European horse racing nation outside our own) which benefits us both. To risk sabotaging that and isolating British racing from Europe is not a risk worth taking. And if it were – for what gain?

There is nothing wrong with Champions’ Day. It is one of the best day’s racing of the year. It may not quite match Arc Day, but, it is not meant to and in any case is an entirely different entity. Maybe it could be improved with the inclusion of the Dewhurst (is it really sensible or desirable to run the Dewhurst and the Middle Park on the same card?) but that is a matter for the race-planners.

While on the subject of Champions’ Day – what about that £10,000 fine for James Doyle after the big race itself? Maybe it is about time we reconsidered the whip rules. Instead of having a predetermined admissible number of whip strokes, maybe the stewards should use their discretion and only penalise jockeys they feel have transgressed the rules of acceptable behaviour.

Did anyone really feel Doyle had been cruel to Noble Mission? Ask anyone at Ascot that witnessed one of the finishes of the season; ask Lady Cecil, Prince Khalid Abdullah, George Baker on the runner-up who was so quick to acknowledge the feat Doyle had accomplished, even Noble Mission himself – who will now have his pick of the best mares and fillies available to him on a regular basis – and a pound to a penny they would all deny any wrongdoing had taken place and that racing’s reputation had been compromised.

Sometimes you just have to check the date to make sure it is not April Fools’ Day. Today was such a day. It seems someone has decided it might be a good idea to tinker once again with the Derby. You might recall that until twenty years ago it was run on the first Wednesday in June. Times were different then. Swathes of London used to shut, allowing the proletariat to pack a hamper with beer and sandwiches and meander to the high point of Epsom Downs, from where they could pick out a Yankee-full of horses, picnic in the centre of the course and doff their hats to the passing dignitaries.

With London more of a banking and business centre these days, it was decided to move the Derby to a Saturday in order for those not working shifts or on the rock and roll, to either make the pilgrimage to Surrey or to watch the race legitimately from their televisions.

This year, viewing figures and outside interest in the race has apparently slumped. This is not altogether surprising. Saturdays are busy days in any calendar. Sporting fixtures tend to spring up vying for spectator prominence. And horseracing – be it the Derby or even the Grand National – will always struggle when pitched against the likes of test cricket, rugby, international football matches or five-setters from Wimbledon. The problem with the Derby is that the event itself lasts only two-and-half minutes. You can dress it up all you like with the preliminaries, but the race is over in a comparative flash. For those having a bet, racing is an instant rush of adrenalin that often reaches an enforced and premature conclusion. Even race-watchers unfamiliar with the intricacies of race-reading can see when their selections are dropping through the field like stones in water. In the time it takes Messi to lace up his boots, the drama concludes. Race over – time for another lager – what’s next? In comparison, those settling down for the long haul that is two halves of a football match budget for a case or two of lager, never mind one glass.

Aside from the competition from other sporting fixtures, racing faces an uphill struggle when trying to recruit newcomers to its ranks. June is a summer month; people hold barbeques, unwind in the sunshine or even take a few days on the Continent to re-charge their batteries.

Those committed to racing will always watch the Derby – those floating, in-transit viewers can take it or leave it, whether it is staged on a Wednesday or a Saturday.

There is a tendency these days for bodies and individuals to try and be all things to all men. As David Cameron has apparently recently discovered, this really doesn’t work. Those that dislike you will always dislike you; and those that might be persuaded are often deterred when feeling their interests are sacrificed in favour of waverers.

Every industry has to beware of that big gun hovering above its head, pointing at its foot and just waiting for someone to cock it. Racing has listened to too many outside bodies for too long. Bookmakers, brewers and TV companies have their own agendas. As a result of listening to bookmakers racing is faced with overkill: constant involvement of brewers as sponsors means racecourses are full of drunks on a Saturday afternoon and now the TV companies express themselves dissatisfied with the latest viewing figures.

How about racing listening to those within for a change. In order to chase and run down viewers to their living room carpets, managing director of Epsom, Rupert Trevelyan (hardly a name associated with a man of the people), is considering moving the Derby to an evening slot. Encouraged by this scheme, broadcasters claim this would result in increased viewers. Quite what they base this speculative statement on is unknown, but we can bet whatever their motive is it does not take into account any concern for the future of racing.

When it took place on a Wednesday, the Derby used to have the theatre to itself. Staging it on a Saturday means it is just one more event on a packed day for most people. Staging it on Saturday night will mean for many that it becomes something else to juggle with as the kids bang the dinner table in advance of their sausage and chips. For others it will clash with that first drink down the pub, getting ready for the party down the road or preparing for that night out with the lads that comprise the Ladbroke Life. And for those that really actually care about racing and follow it with interest, by the time the runners have been dispatched from the famous Derby start on Saturday evening, they might just be feeling as if they have had enough racing for one day.

AS I SEE IT …
Wednesday May 21st

This is the time of year when racing should be flourishing in all its various forms. Attendances should be on the ascendency. On the run-up to the Derby and Oaks and with Royal Ascot less than a month away, racing is reaching a peak.

However, one area seems to have encountered a problem: betting turnover is stagnant. And as we all know (bookmakers have drummed it into us often enough), a healthy betting turnover equals a thriving racing industry. Betting money is ploughed back into racing, generating extra prize-money and better facilities. That is the theory, on which I shall not dwell. But consumer confidence in betting on horses is fragile to say the least. And it was hardy increased after events on Saturday when, despite the concerted efforts of various high-profile syndicates incorporating involved and numerous perms designed to cover all eventualities, the tote Scoop pool, like some languid domestic dog, still rolled over. It seems even the best brains in the business were unable to crack the code hidden within the races on offer.

To serious punters, worse was to follow as it became clear half-way through the Newmarket card that unless securing a golden strip up the stands’ rail, runners were highly unlikely winners. Nothing that was dispatched from the stalls that were positioned grandstand-side won unless racing closest to the rail. In short those that tried to mount a challenge from the centre of the pack were wasting their time. This has to be an intolerable situation. In order to bet, punters have to feel they at least stand some sort of chance of winning. Incidents such as this – occurring for whatever reason – only compound suspicion in potential backers. If they are to be reduced to betting ala Las Vegas style, they reason why not bet on events that pay Las Vegas odds? They reason that as they know the odds are a true reflection of the probability, numbers less the House percentage are a more attractive proposition than running the horse racing gauntlet with all its vagaries and possible permutations: horses busting out of the stalls, getting in a muck-sweat beforehand, draw bias and a sudden downpour being obvious events that can scupper even the best thought-out plans.

So is it time for racing to take steps to prevent some of the unforeseen eventualities that occur on an all too regular basis and that means some bets are not worth the paper they are printed on before the stalls even open?

Of course, as we are dealing with flesh and blood animals that regrettably cannot speak, it is not possible to eliminate every ticket-ripping hazard. But, living on an island with irregular weather patterns, to what extent is it reasonable to expect punters to be meteorologists as well as form students? Have we reached the point at which, for those seriously attempting to make sense of a scenario that means a pack of horses are let loose to run across a stretch of turf, the whole process is just too complicated to bother with? Does turf racing simply feature one obstacle too many?

Therefore, could it be time to take a leaf out of America’s book and concentrate on more racing conducted on an artificial surface? I can hear the howls as I write. I am not suggesting Group 1s are conducted round the speedway tracks that are Lingfield and Kempton. Both courses have their place; I suggest it is not as hosts to prestige events.

We all know there is too much turf racing – there are simply too many racecourses. Perhaps it is time to consider looking at a few of them with a view to altering the landscapes of those that survive a much-needed blitzkrieg. This does not mean turning them into glorified dog-tracks. Polytrack is expensive to lay and for that reason those courses that use it are by nature tight and turning, placing their own emphasis on draw bias and to a degree, luck in running. There is no need for it to be ever thus. Any further attempts to extend the boundaries of turf to synthetics could be conducted in a different manner. Certain tracks could conceivably accommodate an artificial surface without losing too many of their characteristics. I am thinking of Sandown, where an inner track could be laid and therefore preserve the outer turf track for jumping. And, dare I say it, the round course at Ascot, leaving the sand-based straight as it is. Maybe we could take a look at Newmarket where there are acres of room for a strip of ground to be designated for an all-weather track. Forget the arguments that some horses fail to show their best on Polytrack. It is a universally kind and forgiving surface – so much so that trainers work horses on it with no compunction whatsoever. It is less complicated and less likely to produce an out-of-the-blue result than a gluepot or the equivalent of an aircraft runway.

I appreciate this is radical stuff. Most ground-breaking ideas are! If betting turnover is the golden calf we are told it is, surely it is in racing interests to renew the gilt every now and then regardless of cost. The world continues to turn. At present there is a suspicion that racing remains a revolution in arrears.

Ladbrokes appear to have hit the spot with their latest ad campaign, featuring a bunch of likely lads that they have individualised and labelled under the umbrella of living the Ladbroke Life. I can’t say I like the stereotyping of punters in this way, but on this occasion at least the Harrow firm has not depicted those inclined to have a bet as being morons. This is in contrast to the dross campaign Corals see fit to run. They have decided to employ the services of a girl dressed in riding breeches carrying a blue riding whip who strolls in to a barbers shop and then, presumably having second thoughts about having her hair styled there, walks out again to the slogan, “Stick One On It”. Stick one on what? I can’t say it makes any sense to me. Perhaps someone at Corals decided all they needed was to present a woman in tight breeches that slapped her thigh with a whip – the colour of which I have not seen any jockey use – for punters to migrate to their shops in droves.

We punters might get it wrong at times. We might be gullible; we might get hoodwinked, but we ain’t stupid!
Are we? …

ENGLISH RACING FAILS TO COMPETE
SUNDAY MAY 11TH

On the day of the French 1000 and 2000 Guineas at Longchamp, and when Leopardstown were responsible for the Derrinstown Stud Derby Trial as well as two other Group 3 events, the best we could come up with on these shores was Plumpton and Ludlow.

Of course some of you may have been rejoicing that the jumpers (who never actually go away these days) were back.

In essence, the French were at it again – stealing our thunder, something Paris was not devoid of on a damp Sunday. To an extent the weather did its best to dampen proceedings. It rained; more accurately it pelted down.

As was widely anticipated, Jean Claude Rouget won the French 1000 – or the Poule Essai Pouliches as it is known locally – but not with most people’s idea, Lesstalk In Paris, but with Avenir Certain.

Known to enjoy a topic of conversation over or during lunch, officials called the almost obligatory stewards’ inquiry not long after the winner passed the post. To be fair, when pulled out to make her run in the straight, the winner’s actions could be likened to a night club bouncer on a day off. Several rivals were given ‘some of that’ as, in search of daylight, she barged them out of the way.

Once in the clear she was easily the best filly in the race, sloshing home in a rainstorm. Veda was second ahead of Xcellence, who had beaten Miss France in a messy Impudence. Bawina took the eye in fourth. By Dubawi, she was staying on and could be a major player in the Prix de Diane.

Five minutes after the French 1000 Guineas, Mandy’s Boy broke his maiden over hurdles at Ludlow. Not to be outdone by events in Longchamp, the bing-bong followed although no further action was taken.

Half an hour on Ludlow grabbed some unwelcome headlines with what could only be described as a gross piece of incompetence. What we had was a complete farce initiated by the starter.

To vary the drama, he let the runners go for the three mile chase then frantically decided to wave his yellow flag which the recall man failed to see. This was not entirely surprising given the start looked bona fide to just about every witness.

Two miles later the runners were brought to a halt by another flag-waver. All this after what appeared to be a perfect dispatch from the gates, and in front of a packed Sunday house of casual race-goers, many of whom will presumably assume racing’s administrators are a bunch of monkeys in various jackets, coats and suits.

Back at Longchamp the sun came out for the colts. Last year’s Jean-Luc Lagardere winner Karakontie dug deep to wriggle through on the inner rail and hold off the persistent challenge of Prestige Vendome in the 2000 Guineas. Despite pulling early as if he had a train to catch, Newbury handicap winner Muwaary justified inclusion in the field when finishing fourth.

At Leopardstown, clues for the Irish 1000 Guineas were thin on the ground as a result of the Group 3 trial. Afternoon Sunlight lasted home in a bunch finish from Palace, with Ballbacka Queen and Waltzing Matilda looking as if they will be better over further close up in third and fourth.

The Derrinstown Stud Derby Trial was seen as the big classic clue race by many. Ballsax winner Fascinating Rock and last year’s Beresford winner Geoffrey Chaucer dominated the betting.

On a day littered with the speculation of inquiries, we had yet another one here. As every sixth former will recall, amongst other outpourings, Geoffrey Chaucer was responsible for the oft-ribald Canterbury Tales. This was the kind of day he may have preferred not have had to have penned. A classic run in a monsoon in France; unless something unforeseen comes to light – and even if it does (sometimes you let sleeping dogs lie) – a starter with ideas above his station at Ludlow, followed by added drama in Ireland.

Ebanoran was first past the post in the Derrinstown ahead of Fascinating Rock with a showboating Geoffrey Chaucer in third. But on what was meant to be a routine Sunday peppered with Group action, the tension continued.

The trouble with this was that Geoffrey Chaucer was impeded twice by the two that finished in front of him. Ebanoran was first to deal a race-denying blow as he made a winning move two out, rolled across Mr Chaucer’s path and then held on.

Fascinating Rock finished with a flourish, also leaning in on the giant Geoffrey Chaucer, meaning Joseph O’Brien had to snatch up and cruise home, looking unlucky. To an extent he was, but he wouldn’t have won today on a horse that, although a strong traveller, may have been rusty and was not on this occasion quick enough to take his chance when he had it.

However, remembering this was his first run of the year and that he was conceding 3lbs to the other two, he is the one to draw the eye. However, without disqualifying the first two, it was hard to know what other action the stewards could take.

But this was Ireland and they found an alternative. Someone had a brainstorm and decided to disqualify Ebanoran in favour of Fascinating Rock, but to allow Ebanoran to keep second ahead of the one horse that was most inconvenienced by the shenanigans, namely Geoffrey Chaucer.

That as I write is the full story. It may not be the complete story. There may be a reversal of some sort later behind closed doors and when the Bushmills has been diluted.

The Ludlow starter may find gainful employment in the public sector. Oh, and Catcall – the villain of many a piece – won at Longchamp.

Quite a day!

Perhaps the last person to leave will turn out the lights…

The heading would have been unthinkable two years ago; now that the precedent has been set it seems safe to assume this time next year we will be seeing a normal program of racing on a day that was once regarded as sacred.

So does it matter? Probably not; after all those that wish to observe Easter as a religious occasion are free to do so. And if the big high street stores, the supermarkets and the DIY chains can open their doors, why should there not be racing?

That is a compelling argument. It is unfortunate for stable staff, even for jockeys that they can no longer rely on at least one blank day after the generous three days granted to them over the Christmas period. But in pursuit of the greater ideal, it seems the show must go on.

There is just one point I should like to make. Before we reach the situation where there is a card from Catterick, jumping from Cartmel and eight races run under the floodlights at Wolverhampton on Good Friday, the authorities have seen fit to provide a bumper card at Lingfield with prize-money to match. Even Musselburgh stages a financially healthy card.

Effectively, and continuing the Roman theme prevalent to the story that comprised events that spawned the celebration known as Easter two-thousand years ago, frantic to stage racing under any circumstances, bookmakers have made racing an offer it can’t refuse.

Any visitors from Mars could be forgiven for thinking that horse racing is blessed with riches aplenty, and that owning a racehorse might be a good move. Of course if they stick around long enough they will see the folly of this supposition.

So just where has this money suddenly come from? Those that have tirelessly bemoaned the state of British racing – claiming there is too much of it, particularly at the lower end – are left scratching their heads. In order to fulfil an unspecified brief – it was generally accepted that for racing to go ahead on Good Friday it would have to be of a decent standard – bookmakers have raided the petty cash tin. It will be interesting to see if this standard can be sustained next year and beyond.

Lingfield kick off inauspiciously enough with an apprentice handicap; but it is not just any old apprentice handicap – here Corals provide a Class 2 apprentice handicap. From a betting point of view it does not make it any easier than one of those fictitious events from Happy Downs, but the winner gets an unprecedented thirty grand.

32Red are the next generous sponsor when thirty-five minutes later we are faced with a conditions affair restricted to fillies and mares – which of course is the sting in the tail.

As if a field of fourteen racing over seven furlongs does not sufficiently complicate the issue for punters, they have to deal with what is often the wildest card of all: that of the uncertainty of the fairer equine sex. Deep joy! At least it will be for winning connections that will receive the thick end of ninety grand.

Similar money is available in the next – the 32Red All-Weather 3 Year Old Championships Conditions Stakes.

This is not an unreasonable title for a race that includes Ertijaal, already a winner over course and distance and that was once touted as a live Guineas prospect. Stranger things have happened, although on the scant evidence to hand, he may struggle to stay further than today’s trip of seven furlongs.

American Hope, Major Crispies and Sir Robert Cheval were not far behind Ertijaal last time, although they will be lucky to get as close now unless Ertijaal is against the idea of putting his best hoof forward on such an occasion. Add the unbeaten and potentially poorly-drawn Passing Star to the mix along with the progressive duo that is Complicit and Captain Secret and the race stacks up.

There is no sign of the money drying up in the marathon conditions stakes – again ninety grand seems to have been found from an offshore account. Apparently connections of Litigant have had their eyes on this pot for some time, the six-year-old having been laid out for money he would otherwise struggle to win.

A class 2 over six furlongs follows at just after four o’clock. In their generosity, those bookmakers that have thrown up prices choose to offer 5’s the field.

A late defector from the Lincoln on account of ground worries, Captain Cat will chase his share of ninety grand in the race sponsored by our old friend and benefactor to racing – Ladbrokes.

In another life they once courted my services at a meeting in Central London, where their representative saw fit to buy me an orange juice and a beef sandwich. There was no ticket to Bermuda tucked inside a napkin – no offer from a waitress in fishnets to provide anything I might want. It was hardly Don Corleone stuff.

Sensing their actual contribution told me all I needed to know about them as a firm, I declined Ladbrokes’ offer to provide me with gainful employment. The jury is out as to which one of us is the poorer or richer for this decision. I might be tempted to poach a little more than a beef sandwich from them if they offer the general 5/1 that seems likely to be available about Captain Cat tomorrow. You see, I have fallen for the trap!

The jaws lock at 5.20 with the Coral Easter Classic All-Weather Middle Distance Championship. Here, 8lbs clear of his nearest rivals on official ratings, Grandeur is the projected favourite.

However, he has already displayed one or two tendencies to make punters hesitate. Good though his overall record might be, he often finds little in his races and his best runs – often achieved on the world racing stage – are arguably in defeat.

There is a suspicion he does not relish a scrap. With over a hundred grand on offer it is very likely that Solar Diety, Dick Doughtywylie, Robins Hoods Bay (not sure to confirm his latest victory with several of these) and Marshgate Lane will do their utmost to ensure Grandeur does not get things his own way.

Perhaps he ought to join the queue.

On Monday, with typical journalistic timing, Channel 4 sandwiched the somewhat inflammatory-titled How to Fix a Football Match in between Australia v Spain and Cameroon v Brazil.

As programmes go, some may have found it more interesting than the matches that it followed and preceded.

Dispatches were responsible for this piece in which, rather like the websites that instruct would-be terrorists on the complexities of assembling a bomb, they revealed the vital components required to fix a football match.

As with bomb-making, the message has to be: Don’t try this at home. In any event I am not sure how much practical use this programme will be to the average person. However, for those who may be interested, roughly translated these are the ingredients. First things first: surprise, surprise, you need a little help. It would also appear, in order to keep costs down it is advisable to recruit teams from Africa – a continent where Western money goes a long way.

The target match should be an international game, preferably a friendly, something like Gambia v Ghana.

Whereas the layman might consider an on-side goalkeeper would give all the help needed, it appears there is a cheaper and easier way to fix a result – and that is by bunging the officials. An offside decision here, a penalty there, a free kick, and before you know it, your desired score is achieved. Of course it is not that easy to predict the score line exactly, but you can narrow down the options: 2-1, 3-1, or 3-2 virtually guaranteed will do, particularly if you are getting up to 33/1 your money for any one of the three named possibilities on the correct score markets.

Sound good? Assuming you have no problem with cheating or breaking the rules, for an outlay of approaching £30,000 – considerably less in many cases – fixing a result to suit does not appear to be too difficult.

I am not sure we should be surprised at this information. After all, in the world we live in, it would appear anything can be manipulated or arranged; anyone can be bought from pop stars to politicians (we don’t have to delve too far back in our recent history to see an obvious example) – it is just a question of hitting on the right price, be that with hard currency or currency of a different kind.

The problem with Monday’s programme is that those of us that know a little about betting can immediately see the flaw in its assertion. And it is an obvious flaw. At a time when many punters are having a devil of a job placing a wager of £50 at 3/1 – how are the fixers supposed to strike the bets needed in order to cover their expenses, let alone make a profit? Folklore suggests the answer lies in the Far Eastern markets. However, the sort of bookmakers in Singapore and Hong Kong that will take these kinds of bets with impunity are likely to be illegal operators – meaning any winnings are not guaranteed. Also it is fair to say such operators have not just exited the womb. They are not stupid and know a thing or two about the business they are in. They are versed in the ways of the hothouse known as the betting jungle. Their very survival depends on it. Those assuming they can smuggle undetected bets past the system on a two-bit football match, hastily convened to provide a betting bonanza for those in possession of its result, need a reality check. The bush telegraph operated by bookmakers is acute. A steady stream of similar bets will be noticed quickly. And once a pattern is established the jungle drums will start to beat.

From then on the rules change. These bookmakers are not known for their sense of fair play. They are not nice people. Cross them and you can expect a knock on the door one night. Mr Wang wants a word, know what I mean John…

Those thinking they can buck the system are liable to find themselves playing outside their league. The men doing the calling can handle a baseball bat amongst other instruments…

The problem with programmes like the one presented by Dispatches is that they are at their most effective when watched by those that are ignorant of reality. In this case we know it is not possible to successfully place the kind of bets needed to make this so-called sting work. What is more likely is that those arranging the fixing for the fixers will be paid twice – once by those mistakenly thinking a massive edge has been arranged: once by the bookmakers taking money on a result that in fact will never materialise because a deal within a deal has been made. After all, bookmakers have a history of only taking losing bets rather than winning ones. When bookmakers appear to be accommodating, punters should be wary.

Most probably out of ignorance, the practicalities of the situation have been ignored by Channel 4. In this case those of us conversant with the business can instantly spot the weakness in their argument. It begs the question how many flawed issues that we are less aware of are focused on by those pursuing a perceived weakness in any system they choose to highlight.

How To Fix a Football Match might make a good headline, but fixing a match without being able to cash in on its consequences seems an expensive pastime.

an advance look at the Festival

(also appeared on Free Tips page a week ago)

That will be a week tomorrow then. I mean Cheltenham of course. The day jump racing fans have waited for like no other.

Cheltenham is about to emerge from the mists and monsoons of a wet winter. Somehow, despite Nature’s best efforts (or maybe She is toying with us), this little island has not sunk into the sea. There is a glimmer of hope from the clouds. Forecasts indicate the rains are likely to roll away in time for the Festival – although, perhaps to prevent complacency, apparently they will linger this week.

But a week from now, on next Tuesday, the whole carnival begins. The Yellow Brick Road submerged beneath a January and February torrent does in fact lead to a little town in the Cotswolds.

The festival that is Cheltenham turns everyone into an expert – at least beforehand. Pundits everywhere do their best to convince us they know all the answers. There are public forums that consist of racing personalities, actors, politicians and hacks, many of whom are not renowned for being able to tip themselves out of bed, let alone that have reputations as sages capable of spreading their words of wisdom.

I don’t know what it is about the Cheltenham Festival – perhaps it is because it comes at the end of the wretched winter months and all the misery associated with them. The meeting becomes a forest fire of opinion – so much so, if you are not careful it is contagious.

Perhaps this would be a good time for me to put my credentials on the line. Of all the people you could take notice of for the four-day meeting, I should be the last on your list. That is unless of course you want my selections so you may score a neat red line through them. In short my Cheltenham record is abysmal. The last winner I can recall backing was Night Nurse back in the days when computers were all made by IBM and the only mobile phone was one that was hurled from a top storey window in angst. My Cheltenham form figures are worse than those sported by The Mighty Moose.

But, bitter experience aside, how easily we float into the trap! This year will of course be different – won’t it? This year I have an answer or two. Despite the fact the meeting seems to have my measure, this is the year when the worm turns! Even the haphazard law of probability suggests I may be on to something at long last.

So herewith are my selections and thoughts for the Festival. Red pens at the ready:

Tuesday:

With the stands bursting with optimism and enthusiasm, you just have to have a bet/ make a selection in the opening race of the meeting: the Supreme Novices’ Hurdle. It looks like it is a straightforward match between England and Ireland in that Irving is the best we have to offer by some way and Vautour is the best from across the water. With them both trading at 3/1 and under, unless a more attractive bet can be found (I can’t see it) that means there is no percentage in playing. You see, already I am a disappointment. But wait … give the boy a chance!

After a snifter of whisky or similar, before we know it they will be lining up for the Arkle. This looks like a race in which we could consider flying in the face of accepted wisdom. Champagne Fever would have looked the part but for his last run when he was beaten eleven lengths by Trifolium who is set to re-oppose now. I suppose we are meant to accept that running is wrong. Somebody somewhere may be able to advance a good argument in support of this; unaware of what it is, I shall oppose both. Similarly, I am unenthusiastic about Rock On Ruby and Dodging Bullets.

In Ruby’s case, I feel winning two novice chases at long odds-on hardly equates to toughing out an Arkle; whilst Dodging Bullets is surely exposed as a decent chaser with limitations.

Therefore how about Valdez who has won three chases over an aggregate of thirty-three lengths and made a mockery of his opposition at Newbury in November. Admittedly his return effort at Doncaster left something to be desired but his stable had been in the doldrums; he still won though, preserving an unbeaten sequence over the larger obstacles in the process. He is likely to strip a better proposition now particularly as his yard is firing on all cylinders. First blood to Valdez…

2.40:

Baylis & Harding sponsor this handicap. My two against the field would be the sound jumper that is Many Clouds and the unexposed Cause Of Causes. I am not going to justify them. After all, I don’t want to look any more of a fool than I may already appear. Small stakes only, but they are worthy of consideration.

On to the Champion Hurdle and, sorry, I don’t know. But the angle for those of you that are using me as the Lord Oaksey of Prestbury Park is to be aware that, gun to head, my selection would be Hurricane Fly.

We have to presume Quevaga – who first won this in 2009 and has refused to let another mare have a look-in since, will once again snaffle the event in honour of David Nicholson. But she is odds-on and backing horses round here at cramped odds is about as appealing as taking up arms in favour of the Ukraine army.

The next race is for amateur riders. Now as far as I am concerned amateur riders and Cheltenham are the equivalent of gin and ginger beer, in that they don’t belong together.

The last race on Day One looks an unappealing handicap.

So Tuesday’s selections are Valdez in the Arkle and Many Clouds and Cause Of Causes in the handicap at 2.40.

Wednesday:

Faugheen looks something of a beast in this opening hurdle and will apparently carry plenty of Irish confidence.

The RSA has me beat. I hope Many Clouds and Cause Of Causes take up easier options in handicaps. So often this develops into a case of last man standing. I am not sure whom that last man may turn out to be.

Oh deep joy, now for the Coral Cup. Okay, just one stab at the bloody thing. What about Vendor. He ran really well in the Betfair Hurdle at Newbury last time after an absence when thought to be in need of the race, and is reasonably treated on his novice form. After the unexpected win of Valdez on the first day, this represents strike two to the Alan King stable. V for Victory in both cases!

The Queen Mother Chase does present us with something of a problem. Unquestionably Sire De Grugy deserves to win it. The trouble is all his best form is on right-handed tracks and his two attempts here have resulted in blanks. Although a decent enough effort in itself, he arguably ran his worst race of the season here in November when looking awkward at times and taking a few liberties with his fences before eventually being beaten by Kid Cassidy.

He was conceding weight and that may still be good enough to provide him with a well-deserved success, but Captain Conan (opposes again) did beat him here in November of 2012 at levels. Those that rubbish this left-hand/ right-hand theory, should remind themselves that Sire De Grugy’s latest racecourse spin was at Plumpton (a left-handed track not too dissimilar in configuration to Cheltenham – although there any similarity ends), so connections must be concerned to a degree. He is the moral winner but one or two doubts remain.

The next event is the Cross Country. Not for me!

The Fred Winter is complicated by possible runners that may develop into non-runners that may instead try their luck in the Triumph. Taken at face value Dawalan looks a worthy favourite, but surely there is something a little more appealing nestling in the middle of the handicap.

With the last race being a bumper, I am pleading the Fifth. So Day Two is potentially quiet for me. One small bet on Vendor in the Coral Cup and it’s a question of retiring to the bar.

Thursday:

With no clear shape of what will and what will not turn up, the first two races [JLT Novices’ Chase and Pertemps Final] are difficult to unravel at this stage. However the Ryanair presents Dynaste with a solid opportunity to recover the winning thread. Prior to the King George, he had not been out of the first two in his efforts over fences, which included an excellent second at last year’s Festival to Benefficient in the Jewson.

His tame showing at Kempton was explained by a pulled muscle so those prepared to overlook that run are looking at a horse capable of mixing it at the highest level. With Al Ferof viewed as a beatable opponent and Cue Card earmarked for the Gold Cup, Dynaste gets his chance to return to his best in what is seen as a winnable race.

The decision to point Annie Power at the World Hurdle means Big Buck’s faces potentially his toughest opponent in a long while at a time when he may be at his most vulnerable. Now eleven, what was already looking like a serious test for Big Buck’s now threatens to present him with a crown-removing ceremony. This is a tough line-up; the inclusion of the unbeaten mare means she is a safer option and she looks the answer. Stamina does not look like an issue and given her powerful connections have obvious confidence in her ability to see out the trip she is hard to oppose.

The card disappears into the distance with a couple of impossible looking handicaps at this stage. So we exit Thursday with Dynaste and Annie Power seen as the two bets likely to take us forward to the final encounter.

Friday starts as always with the Triumph Hurdle.

Calipto lines up with the best current form on offer from the home team. However this is often a lottery of an event and confidence is limited. If there is an interesting contender it is surely one-time favourite Royal Irish Hussar who, prior to blotting his copybook at Doncaster in December when it appeared something was amiss, had looked like the possible winner of this. Does anyone know what happened that day? If there is a tangible reason for his sudden eclipse when odds-on and fading tamely, having already beaten Guitar Pete over this course and now lining up at double the price, he could easily represent value.

The Gold Cup looks like a virtual re-run of last year’s event as the two principals once again appear to be Bobs Worth and Silviniaco Conti. Both are young enough and have been sufficiently conservatively campaigned to return in top form. It is entirely possible Silviniaco Conti will gain revenge for that unfortunate top-of-the-hill error last year. Cue Card has yet to convince he will stay this far and Last Instalment appears to have a little to find. At this stage a watching brief seems the best option.

So the final day looks knotty right now. Things may be clearer when we have a better idea of the runners in the handicaps.

On the week, the horses to avoid, or have a second look at from this beleaguered quarter are:

VALDEZ
MANY CLOUDS – CAUSE OF CAUSES
VENDOR
DYNASTE
ANNIE POWER

So he won. Like the name or not, Australia seemed acquainted with the script and delivered his lines. A good-looking but sparsely made chestnut; he was not every one’s idea of the paddock pick. Most observers would have opted for True Story, but then this was horse racing not a catwalk.

Despite not coming down the hill too well and finding himself shuffled wide on the entrance to the straight, once he levelled out Australia was back on the bridle and eating up ground.

In what was generally acknowledged as a quality Derby, he and Kingston Hill fought it out, although Australia was always that little bit too strong.

So the horse named after the country that is largely uninhabited and inhabitable in places, goes down in the history books as the 2014 Derby winner. Being by Galileo out of Ouija Board, there were many permutations for the horse-namer Sue Magnier to consider. One assumes she opted for the somewhat obscure Australia as an astrological reference to the star Tania Australis that is in the constellation known as Ursa Major. On the other hand, maybe she sensed with such a pedigree he was destined to become a star of a different kind and opted for a name that would roll readily from Michael Tabor’s lips so he could stride down a line of bookmakers, striking bets of 20 Grand a time with ease.

With the Galileo and fortune-telling connection, some of us might have suggested Stairway To Heaven, Divine Intervention or Ghost Star; but, Australia it is.

It was a Derby dominated not just by good horses but by those whose names represented proper nouns. Kingston Hill is a campus in Surrey. Romsdal is a country within Norway and Arod is either the biblical son of Gad or an American baseball player – take your pick.

So in my world it was the Derby won by Spirit In The Sky from Coat Of Arms, Canterbury Cathedral and Haymaker. Don’t bother looking for them in the form book though, but if you have any better ideas I should be pleased to hear them.

It may not have been a triumph for the namers of horses, but it was a particular triumph for Aidan O’Brien, who not only trained his third consecutive Derby winner, but also so accurately advised the high-rolling owners he represents when he told them Australia would win. Training is one art, soothsaying another. It seems Mr O’ Brien has acquired both skills.

As punters, we can’t say we were not told.

If Australia followed the script at Epsom, for the England football team, in Miami on Saturday night it became as crazed as the lightning-shattered sky. Mitigation apart, for England to only manage a paltry nil-nil draw with Honduras is lamentable. Imagine Brazil, Argentina, Germany or Spain recording this score line against such lowly opponents.

But England is now in Brazil and play Italy next Saturday. Their lead up to the World Cup has been totally uninspiring and as things stand the England team have to be favourite to be on the flight home on June 25th after they have lost to Italy and Uraguay and scrambled some sort of a result against Costa Rica.

In football everyone is an expert. Even the biggest duffers are grandstand coaches and we all have opinions. Roy Hodgson seems a nice man. He might even conjure up a decent showing from our team. But to do that surely he needs to deviate from the same-old, same-old that is not working. It seems our strengths lie with the likes of Lambert, Barkley, Lllana, Wilshere, Lampard, Sterling, Gerrard and, if fit, Oxlade-Chamberlain. A new line-up is called for. We have nothing to lose.

Whatever happens; however Mr Hodgson plays it from the bench, there will be excuses on the plane home: It was too hot during the day – too cold at night. The beer was too chilled, the samba too lively. The England shirts were too red; but, you know what, we have learned a lot.

How about learning the most vital lesson of all – what happened in 1966 is history – all that matters is now.

ENGLISH RACING FAILS TO COMPETE

SUNDAY MAY 11TH

On the day of the French 1000 and 2000 Guineas at Longchamp, and when Leopardstown were responsible for the Derrinstown Stud Derby Trial as well as two other Group 3 events, the best we could come up with on these shores was Plumpton and Ludlow.

Of course some of you may have been rejoicing that the jumpers (who never actually go away these days) were back.

In essence, the French were at it again – stealing our thunder, something Paris was not devoid of on a damp Sunday. To an extent the weather did its best to dampen proceedings. It rained; more accurately it pelted down.

As was widely anticipated, Jean Claude Rouget won the French 1000 – or the Poule Essai Pouliches as it is known locally – but not with most people’s idea, Lesstalk In Paris, but with Avenir Certain.

Known to enjoy a topic of conversation over or during lunch, officials called the almost obligatory stewards’ inquiry not long after the winner passed the post. To be fair, when pulled out to make her run in the straight, the winner’s actions could be likened to a night club bouncer on a day off. Several rivals were given ‘some of that’ as, in search of daylight, she barged them out of the way.

Once in the clear she was easily the best filly in the race, sloshing home in a rainstorm. Veda was second ahead of Xcellence, who had beaten Miss France in a messy Impudence. Bawina took the eye in fourth. By Dubawi, she was staying on and could be a major player in the Prix de Diane.

Five minutes after the French 1000 Guineas, Mandy’s Boy broke his maiden over hurdles at Ludlow. Not to be outdone by events in Longchamp, the bing-bong followed although no further action was taken.

Half an hour on Ludlow grabbed some unwelcome headlines with what could only be described as a gross piece of incompetence. What we had was a complete farce initiated by the starter.

To vary the drama, he let the runners go for the three mile chase then frantically decided to wave his yellow flag which the recall man failed to see. This was not entirely surprising given the start looked bona fide to just about every witness.

Two miles later the runners were brought to a halt by another flag-waver. All this after what appeared to be a perfect dispatch from the gates, and in front of a packed Sunday house of casual race-goers, many of whom will presumably assume racing’s administrators are a bunch of monkeys in various jackets, coats and suits.

Back at Longchamp the sun came out for the colts. Last year’s Jean-Luc Lagardere winner Karakontie dug deep to wriggle through on the inner rail and hold off the persistent challenge of Prestige Vendome in the 2000 Guineas. Despite pulling early as if he had a train to catch, Newbury handicap winner Muwaary justified inclusion in the field when finishing fourth.

At Leopardstown, clues for the Irish 1000 Guineas were thin on the ground as a result of the Group 3 trial. Afternoon Sunlight lasted home in a bunch finish from Palace, with Ballbacka Queen and Waltzing Matilda looking as if they will be better over further close up in third and fourth.

The Derrinstown Stud Derby Trial was seen as the big classic clue race by many. Ballsax winner Fascinating Rock and last year’s Beresford winner Geoffrey Chaucer dominated the betting.

On a day littered with the speculation of inquiries, we had yet another one here. As every sixth former will recall, amongst other outpourings, Geoffrey Chaucer was responsible for the oft-ribald Canterbury Tales. This was the kind of day he may have preferred not have had to have penned. A classic run in a monsoon in France; unless something unforeseen comes to light – and even if it does (sometimes you let sleeping dogs lie) – a starter with ideas above his station at Ludlow, followed by added drama in Ireland.

Ebanoran was first past the post in the Derrinstown ahead of Fascinating Rock with a showboating Geoffrey Chaucer in third. But on what was meant to be a routine Sunday peppered with Group action, the tension continued.

The trouble with this was that Geoffrey Chaucer was impeded twice by the two that finished in front of him. Ebanoran was first to deal a race-denying blow as he made a winning move two out, rolled across Mr Chaucer’s path and then held on.

Fascinating Rock finished with a flourish, also leaning in on the giant Geoffrey Chaucer, meaning Joseph O’Brien had to snatch up and cruise home, looking unlucky. To an extent he was, but he wouldn’t have won today on a horse that, although a strong traveller, may have been rusty and was not on this occasion quick enough to take his chance when he had it.

However, remembering this was his first run of the year and that he was conceding 3lbs to the other two, he is the one to draw the eye. However, without disqualifying the first two, it was hard to know what other action the stewards could take.

But this was Ireland and they found an alternative. Someone had a brainstorm and decided to disqualify Ebanoran in favour of Fascinating Rock, but to allow Ebanoran to keep second ahead of the one horse that was most inconvenienced by the shenanigans, namely Geoffrey Chaucer.

That as I write is the full story. It may not be the complete story. There may be a reversal of some sort later behind closed doors and when the Bushmills has been diluted.

The Ludlow starter may find gainful employment in the public sector. Oh, and Catcall – the villain of many a piece – won at Longchamp.

Quite a day!

Perhaps the last person to leave will turn out the lights…

GOOD FRIDAY RACING…

The heading would have been unthinkable two years ago; now that the precedent has been set it seems safe to assume this time next year we will be seeing a normal program of racing on a day that was once regarded as sacred.

So does it matter? Probably not; after all those that wish to observe Easter as a religious occasion are free to do so. And if the big high street stores, the supermarkets and the DIY chains can open their doors, why should there not be racing?

That is a compelling argument. It is unfortunate for stable staff, even for jockeys that they can no longer rely on at least one blank day after the generous three days granted to them over the Christmas period. But in pursuit of the greater ideal, it seems the show must go on.

There is just one point I should like to make. Before we reach the situation where there is a card from Catterick, jumping from Cartmel and eight races run under the floodlights at Wolverhampton on Good Friday, the authorities have seen fit to provide a bumper card at Lingfield with prize-money to match. Even Musselburgh stages a financially healthy card.

Effectively, and continuing the Roman theme prevalent to the story that comprised events that spawned the celebration known as Easter two-thousand years ago, frantic to stage racing under any circumstances, bookmakers have made racing an offer it can’t refuse.

Any visitors from Mars could be forgiven for thinking that horse racing is blessed with riches aplenty, and that owning a racehorse might be a good move. Of course if they stick around long enough they will see the folly of this supposition.

So just where has this money suddenly come from? Those that have tirelessly bemoaned the state of British racing – claiming there is too much of it, particularly at the lower end – are left scratching their heads. In order to fulfil an unspecified brief – it was generally accepted that for racing to go ahead on Good Friday it would have to be of a decent standard – bookmakers have raided the petty cash tin. It will be interesting to see if this standard can be sustained next year and beyond.

Lingfield kick off inauspiciously enough with an apprentice handicap; but it is not just any old apprentice handicap – here Corals provide a Class 2 apprentice handicap. From a betting point of view it does not make it any easier than one of those fictitious events from Happy Downs, but the winner gets an unprecedented thirty grand.

32Red are the next generous sponsor when thirty-five minutes later we are faced with a conditions affair restricted to fillies and mares – which of course is the sting in the tail.

As if a field of fourteen racing over seven furlongs does not sufficiently complicate the issue for punters, they have to deal with what is often the wildest card of all: that of the uncertainty of the fairer equine sex. Deep joy! At least it will be for winning connections that will receive the thick end of ninety grand.

Similar money is available in the next – the 32Red All-Weather 3 Year Old Championships Conditions Stakes.

This is not an unreasonable title for a race that includes Ertijaal, already a winner over course and distance and that was once touted as a live Guineas prospect. Stranger things have happened, although on the scant evidence to hand, he may struggle to stay further than today’s trip of seven furlongs.

American Hope, Major Crispies and Sir Robert Cheval were not far behind Ertijaal last time, although they will be lucky to get as close now unless Ertijaal is against the idea of putting his best hoof forward on such an occasion. Add the unbeaten and potentially poorly-drawn Passing Star to the mix along with the progressive duo that is Complicit and Captain Secret and the race stacks up.

There is no sign of the money drying up in the marathon conditions stakes – again ninety grand seems to have been found from an offshore account. Apparently connections of Litigant have had their eyes on this pot for some time, the six-year-old having been laid out for money he would otherwise struggle to win.

A class 2 over six furlongs follows at just after four o’clock. In their generosity, those bookmakers that have thrown up prices choose to offer 5’s the field.

A late defector from the Lincoln on account of ground worries, Captain Cat will chase his share of ninety grand in the race sponsored by our old friend and benefactor to racing – Ladbrokes.

In another life they once courted my services at a meeting in Central London, where their representative saw fit to buy me an orange juice and a beef sandwich. There was no ticket to Bermuda tucked inside a napkin – no offer from a waitress in fishnets to provide anything I might want. It was hardly Don Corleone stuff.

Sensing their actual contribution told me all I needed to know about them as a firm, I declined Ladbrokes’ offer to provide me with gainful employment. The jury is out as to which one of us is the poorer or richer for this decision. I might be tempted to poach a little more than a beef sandwich from them if they offer the general 5/1 that seems likely to be available about Captain Cat tomorrow. You see, I have fallen for the trap!

The jaws lock at 5.20 with the Coral Easter Classic All-Weather Middle Distance Championship. Here, 8lbs clear of his nearest rivals on official ratings, Grandeur is the projected favourite.

However, he has already displayed one or two tendencies to make punters hesitate. Good though his overall record might be, he often finds little in his races and his best runs – often achieved on the world racing stage – are arguably in defeat.

There is a suspicion he does not relish a scrap. With over a hundred grand on offer it is very likely that Solar Diety, Dick Doughtywylie, Robins Hoods Bay (not sure to confirm his latest victory with several of these) and Marshgate Lane will do their utmost to ensure Grandeur does not get things his own way.

Perhaps he ought to join the queue.

EXPLODING THE SYSTEM MYTH

I know a man with a clever mathematical brain. Unfortunately he is a one-trick pony as his cleverness starts and ends with the subject of mathematics.

Actually, that is not strictly true. The product of a classical education, he knows a host of grammatical rules that many may have forgotten, such as that the verb To Be cannot have an object, also the difference between relative and conditional clauses. I’ll save you from some of the other differentials he is able to define – such as possessive and personal pronouns, the likes of which some of us can implement without resorting to a parrot-fashion recital.

My clever friend illustrates the contrast between those that have a natural ability to tackle a subject and those that bury their heads in a book on theory but never progress beyond first base. I am not decrying education by any means here.

Those that were lucky enough to benefit from the system will always shine. The Ann Widdecombes of this world sound very clever in speech (never confusing It is I with It is Me for example), but one wonders how far such theory takes them in the real world.

After all, you can always recruit someone as your ghost-writer, but first you have to produce something that is worthy of such a process. Enter many with lesser educations who can write wonderful prose that may be rough round the edges but carries a real essence often lacking by those tackling the written word without passion.

Real talent cannot be manufactured but it can be nurtured and improved. The likes of Paul Simon and Bruce Springsteen had to be Paul Simon and Bruce Springsteen in the first place to become the people we know today.

You may be wondering what all this has to do with horse racing. To tell the truth I am beginning to wonder myself, but actually there is a connection.

Mathematics is only the diffusion of fact after all. Impeccable grammar is achieved by similar means: the ability to break down and analyse a sentence, so once it is constructed it makes perfect sense without ambiguity.

Wake up at the back!

What I am leading to is the contention that there is a big difference from saying you are something and actually being it.

These days most people are long on theory and short on practice. Every mother’s son is a manager of some sort; every person on a quiz show has a long title associated with their job.

As a refreshing change, don’t you just love Chris Hughes from Eggheads, who makes no bones about his roots as a ‘retired train driver and railway worker’ but can lay claim to being one of the most knowledgeable people in the country?

Success in Life

There is no short cut to success in any sphere, whether as a train driver or a boffin. For those wishing to excel, two components are necessary: talent and hard work. You can get by on one, but without both you will always fall short of excellence.

For those of you still with me, we are approaching the point.

Successful Gambling

Gambling is the last refuge of the lazy man. Gambling offers the lure of easy money without too much hard work; or so some theorists would have us believe.

I have lost track of the number of times my mathematical friend has presented a system before me that he claimed was his next ticket to the Caribbean.

The last one – a year or so ago if memory serves me; I have told him to stop wasting my time with them – was as simple and devoid of any logic as this: back any two-year-old up to June with the form figures of 112 that is between 4/1 and 7/1 in the betting forecast.

Note the amount of provisos built into this so-called system. It falls flat from the outset – the form figures mean nothing on their own. Why does the system cease in June and why is the price of the horse limited; and from where is this price supposed to be taken – the Morning Star perhaps?

The bad news is that, like everything else, gambling demands hard labour from those desirous of success (or avoiding failure, which in this business often amounts to the same thing).

There is no short cut to success in this game, where, to quote Bruce Forsyth, points do not make prizes. True, you might scoop the jackpot in one form or another, but the odds against that are too huge to contemplate and any such luck is unsustainable.

For those living on this planet – the only way to succeed is to have a natural flair for the subject combined with the drive to keep working.

For that reason I become aggrieved when I read of so-called mathematicians and system analysts that claim to have cracked the system.

They are wasting their time, more importantly ours. Even if figures suggest these systems work, they only do so in retrospect. Wittingly or unwittingly, they have been tailored to fit existing results. And as we all know, we can only bet on eventualities yet to occur. In short, there is no all-encompassing system that leads to a path of gold.

Not only that, there is no path of gold.

Any system can appear to work given a set of results. It can be tweaked and adjusted to suit those results, but it has as much relevance as someone suggesting it is possible to predict the next sequence of numbers on a roulette wheel. Such a sequence is totally random, so whilst adding the sum of the last fifty paying numbers and dividing by the sum total of those that were unsuccessful may have been relevant in one undetermined sequence, it will never work in another.

Nor will the claim that after a prolonged series of one or other colour (red or black) an overdue change is imminent and that is the time to bet against the current flow. The flaw in that argument is two-fold. Firstly, in order to provide a profit, the backer will need (at odds of even-money) to double-up on stakes if the first bet struck loses.

Secondly, and possibly more importantly, for those espousing the benefits of the Laws of Probability, the spin of the roulette wheel, like the sequence in horse racing, is infinite; therefore there is never a cut-off point at which one can claim the sequence ends.

Any set of results is open to alteration, although certain constants exist (50% red and black will roughly prevail – but over an indefinite number of spins).

Like the turn of a card on the green baize or the roll of a ball-bearing in a roulette wheel, every horse race is a unique event. Its components are always different, that applies to its players, both human and equine.

Therefore no set of situations will ever be replicated. There will be an approximation of elements, but they will never be identical. This means results cannot be predicted on a regular basis by a computer or when the moon is in the third quarter and Mars on the assent.

Yes, computers can correctly pinpoint horses that are well-in according to official figures, but such horses still have to face optimum conditions in order to win.

There is no point in backing a horse that is technically well-treated if it faces ground it hates.

Computers, or more precisely their programs, can identify other factors in a horse’s favour but those drawn badly or those that have not run for a length of time (unless we know why and that they are fighting fit) are unlikely winners.

Those racing in handicaps for the first time and facing seasoned handicappers are at a disadvantage, as are so-called unlucky losers that have been raised by the assessor on an assumption rather than proven fact.

Punters have more information at their disposal than ever these days. All this information can be built into a finalised solution but it is not the answer per se.

In the final analysis, stripping away all the peripheral information to hand, punters have to be able to use their own judgement and that judgement has to be accurate and reliable. And that is the only criterion by which those that eke out a living in this business survive.

As for those claiming to have a successful system, before climbing aboard this money train might I suggest you ask them one question for starters.

Winners get banned. Losers get diaries

Ask them if they were given a racing diary by their bookmaker this year. If they have one, bear in mind that bookmakers don’t give diaries to punters that are successful.

No, their present to successful punters is to suspend their

COPING WITH A LACK OF RACING

You might have noticed there has been a lack of racing recently – at least racing to warrant betting interest. No wonder Sprinter Sacre’s heartbeat is normal. Apart from his welfare – of course we all wish him well – there hasn’t been much to occupy the mind on the racing front lately. That is unless you include weather forecasts and Blissful Park, where the going is always good, all the races are handicaps (I heard a Ladbroke commentator refer to the top weight in one such event the other day), and there is never a non-runner or a slow-starter. Sound blissful? Not exactly…

I happened to be in a betting shop this week, just to catch up on the Racing Post and see if anything was happening behind my back so to speak. The place seemed full of the same old faces looking for inspiration and clues. For all I know they are still pacing the floor looking.

It’s not that the results (those that I can recall) have been that bad since horses have turned into aqua-planers, it’s just that – in a game already renowned for chucking up excuses left, right and centre – it is difficult to bet with any confidence just now.

In desperation, last Saturday I had a small pop on the all-weather. With the majority of the handicaps looking only marginally easier than events at Blissful Park, I thought a couple of admittedly uninspired selections in Anglo Irish and Joyous looked the best on the day. That is I and just about everyone else! Anglo Irish got himself beaten at 1/3; whilst Joyous was backed down to the near suicidal price of 6/4 in her handicap and, despite not getting the best of runs and possibly looking unlucky, failed to win. At those sorts of prices, excuses are superfluous. To be brutal, the only excuse you need is the one that you should provide to yourself for being sucked in to betting on such a day in the first place.

But, here’s the thing: a gambler/player can’t afford to waste time sitting on his hands. A gambler plays the percentages game, keeping them on his side by playing as often as possible. If he is good at what he does – if his judgement is sound – then the more he can exercise that judgement, the more likely the odds are to tilt in his favour. That sounds simple and logical. The flaw in that argument is that, because we are dealing with dumb animals (and in some cases equally dumb people), horse racing is neither simple nor logical. There are times when I feel it ought to be less random and make more sense than it does, but early in January in the middle of a monsoon is not one of them.

This is the time of year when I used to book a holiday and fly out to the sun for anything approaching a month depending on the sort of year it had been. But, look, we are in the middle of a recession; just like everyone else I am feeling the pinch, so this year the Caribbean or the Indian Ocean is right out. They are so far out; as far as I am concerned I wouldn’t see them with a telescope. Oh, they are out there somewhere but, even if I could be sure of a plane taking off to time from one of the London airports and not having to spend part of my holiday squinting at a departures board, or on a bench in a terminal – doing a Tom Hanks impression – the next time I shall see the sun this year is when it rises over my lawn. I am calculating that will be sometime in April, just before or just after I have had my first reversal at Newmarket during the Craven meeting.

Right now I have no appetite for betting; but to get back to my earlier point, I have had a change of heart about how to approach this business in the long term. I used to think it was advisable to wait until I thought I had uncovered a good thing at an inflated price and then unload. Lately, I am having an alarming change of mind. Because, to use the argument I have documented, that way you can wait forever and still not get paid. Bad luck is the ever-present gate-crasher in this business.

This is the only business I know where you can be right and it can still cost you money. The only result that matters is whether your bet wins or loses, not whether you were technically correct to pull up your money. Jockey foul-ups, last-minute ground changes and sheer bad luck in running is all very well for a topic over a pint of Fuller’s in the pub, but it won’t alter the result or your bank balance at the end of the month.

By restricting bets to those occasions when you think you have the edge of all edges, you will only bet rarely and, in a business where the profit margin is low before you start, you are arguably making it lower by only betting when the wind is in the right direction.

Like it or not, if you are a player in this game, then that’s what you have to do – play. And you need to play on a regular basis. Because if you don’t you get a dose of the freezes. You start to find reasons not to bet and, frankly there are enough of them to sink a battleship as it is. You become stale, out of practice and, to an extent, chicken with your money.

Anyone that makes a living has to constantly practise their art. I mean, footballers don’t just put on their boots on Saturdays. And how would you feel if the surgeon conducting an operation on you only handled a scalpel when the Moon was in Capricorn, or the pilot in the 747 on which you were a passenger only climbed into the cockpit when flying down to Rio?

One way or another, as a player, you have to keep your hand in. The possible answer is to bet with small change rather than not bet at all. You can bet on the exchanges with as little as £2 a shot. It’s okay to do that – no-one need know – at least it is another way of keeping track of the form you are in. And when you think about it, betting in small money is a win-win situation. If you win, you can reassure yourself you are still the big man; that you haven’t lost it. If you lose a few quid, then you can claim you were so right to throttle back and that again, it is only further proof of your latent genius.

Of course, betting in peanuts might be all very well to tide you over, but you still have to face facts – if you are to make any money betting, you will have to press-up at some stage. You simply have to bet to proper stakes and do it regularly. Maybe that is a problem for another time. Say the Cheltenham run-up for those of you with a hatful of opinions about the jump game – or the Dubai carnival for those of us of the other persuasion.

Failing that you could always apply for a job at your local supermarket. Trouble is, I hear even they aren’t’ hiring right now.