Arc weekend in Paris

And Another Thing

October 2008

Arc Weekend at Longchamp

IT MAY NOT have escaped your notice that it is Arc weekend. That means planeloads and coach-loads of Brits will be descending on Paris for two glorious days of racing in one of the culture capitals of the world. The mix of Anglo Saxon and Gaelic has not always worked terribly well. There has been some unpleasantness between our two nations over the past five hundred years or so, resulting in muskets, tanks and ships exchanging fire. These days altercations are more likely to be restricted to the hurling of glasses after a football match or the French refusing to speak English even though, in many cases, they have a better grasp of our mother tongue than we do. Know what I mean John?

For those of you taking the cross-channel trip in whatever form to Paris this weekend, an expensive but unforgettable experience awaits. Paris is a costly city. Prices in restaurants seem to vary as to whether they like whomsoever they are serving. Wear a bulldog baseball cap or one with Manchester United written across it and you can expect to be charged £5 for a cup of coffee. Have a visible tattoo that proclaims something to the effect of, “England Forever” (or knowing the educational standards of some tattooists perhaps Eggland Forever), means the price could shoot up to £6.50.

As a racecourse, Longchamp puts many English tracks to shame. The French dress properly to go racing so do not turn up in tracksuit and trainers. You will look like a wally. Try a suit, or slacks and a jacket. If you don’t own any of those items, check that your temporary leave of absence from prison has not expired.

The purpose of being at a racetrack in France is not to get as much beer down your neck as you can. And no, they don’t serve Boddington’s

Forget football. Arc weekend is all about celebrating the racehorse. If you want to chant about Arsenal and the likes, stay at home and be your usual dildoic self.

The French take their food and wine seriously. If you order either in anything but the equivalent of a Macdonalds, the chances are the waiter will be snooty. He will relish the fact that the menu has left you clueless. Don’t leave him to choose for you. It is likely he will punish you for your ignorance by bringing you a plate of unmentionables poached in a sauce that disguises the fact you have just eaten genitals. Genitals are not for eating! You are normally safe with the fish but remember that accompanying wine should be white or rose and not red. You don’t want to appear as ignorant as Red Grant in From Russia With Love. Remember what happened to him! White wine should be chilled. Ask for it warm and it is likely to have a taste that resembles ammonia. Whatever the New World says, the French and the Italians invented wine and all grapes derive from them. Asking for Rioja in a French restaurant will not go down well. Stick to Beaujolis, Corbieres or anything with Chauteau as a prefix.

Yes, the French eat horse. It is sweeter than beefsteak and steak often means you will be eating one of the beasts that once graced the turf at Longchamp. If you have a problem with that, stipulate you would rather the plate did not contain a descendent of Sea Bird. Frogs’ legs are surprisingly nice but snails taste as you would expect something that spends it life wallowing in dirt and mud to taste.

Do not mention the war and in particular avoid any reference to Dunkirk.

If a British horse wins a race at Longchamp, don’t punch the air and shout, “Yes! Get in there my son!”

Zarkava is quite rightly the queen of Longchamp. Her task on Sunday is nowhere near as easy as the betting suggests and if she wins, it will require a mighty performance. Even if you have backed against her, be generous in your applause – she will have deserved it.

The dark side of Racing

And Another Thing

September 2008

Horse Racing and Jockey tactics

FOUR ITEMS dominate the Racing Post today. Three of them represent the dark side of our game in my view. By that I don’t mean to infer they are concerned with skulduggery, more that they are rather like the idiot who moons from the back of a coach when you are driving home after a long hard day losing money at the office. It is just the time when the last thing you want to see it a white bottom staring implacably at you. I have a mirror and a bottom so I know what one looks like. On a scale of one to ten, on the basis that by giving it a zero you are stating looking at one is no worse than say, someone urinating through your letter-box, my bottom – pretty standard as they go – would be worth no more than a rating of one. So I can’t see why I would want to see anyone else’s, unless it happened to belong to J Lo. Following a male bottom along the motorway when I am tired and wondering whether to cook dinner or stop somewhere is not my idea of a laugh. It is enough to make you want to branch off at a service station and pay a tenner for a plate of steak and kidney and chips as cold as a can of Fosters.

So item one… The BHA are to quiz Johhny Murtagh and Aidan O’Brien over the allegation of team tactics. We all know the story and frankly, it is boring. Aidan O’Brien trains for the most successful racing empire in recent years. They have won an unprecedented number of Group Ones this year – is it eighty-six or sixty-eight I have lost count? In most of these, they have installed a pacemaker to ensure the races in question did not develop into three-furlong sprints and because horses like Duke Of Marmalade are bred to race over ten furlongs. On the assumption that the Duke’s rivals are similarly bred, you would have thought the inclusion of a horse that is going to make it a true gallop would be something approaching a boon to all concerned. The problem comes when the field approach the point at which the pacemaker is tiring and begins to drop back. In fact, pacemakers have a habit of dropping like a stone through water from about three furlongs out. According to the BHA – a body on all known evidence that seems to be no further down the racing line of education than the equivalent of someone sitting his GCSE’s, – Johnny Murtagh instructed Colm O’Donoghue on Red Rock Canyon to ease off the rail and let him through on Duke Of Marmalade in the Juddmonte International.

Oh Dear! Oh Dear! Is it necessary to make a meal out of this? Opposing jockeys are not clueless. The race was run over Newmarket’s July course, which, in case the BHA needs reminding, is essentially straight. It is not as if O’Donoghue was in the process of spinning off a rail and taking fancied runners wide. And the practice of jockeys calling for room happens in nearly every race every day. What we don’t want is the BHA trying to clamp down on the one outfit that has lifted an otherwise pretty drab Flat racing season from being just that – flat! What if Messrs Magnier, Tabor and Smith suddenly called time and decided, having lost their one-time stable jockey Keiren Fallon as a result of this body, that they would prefer to take their empire to America, which is a lot closer to Barbados and Sandy Lane where they spend a good deal of their time? Not very likely, but this is hassle they do not need. Put your trousers back on BHA and see if you can find any cans of Stella in the jockeys’ changing rooms.

Next, jockeys are angling for more money in riding fees. They say they are not earning enough. Note this money is for riding fees. They want some sort of sliding scale based on the importance of the race they are riding in. What if they cock it up? Can the owner push for a substantial refund due to negligence? The current riding fee is a £100 a shot. The average Flat jockey rides between seven hundred and a thousand horses a year. Assuming none of them win, that means he grosses between £70,000 and £100,000 per annum. But even Henry Puffington-Smythe would have to ride a few winners if he got that amount of rides, meaning, taking into account his percentage for so doing, he could expect to earn anything up to a quarter of a million pounds. I am sorry if that is not enough. Yes, we all know that Bruce Springsteen gets that for playing Madison Square and Wembley but, I am not sure anyone wants to pay up to two hundred pounds to watch the Hills brothers on guitars, Jimmy Fortune on bass and Richard Hughes on lead vocals. And it is no good comparing racing with football because football generates more money. When England plays at Wembley, the attendance can easily reach 70,000. When was the last time spectators reached a third of that figure at Newmarket or Ascot? Maybe during Royal Week Ascot comes close, but 70,000 or more is unheard of. Being a jockey is a highly skilled job and one most mortals would make a complete pig’s ear of if they tried it. But the same applies to surgeons and bricklayers. Each to his own. Jockeys riding in the better races are lucky to be in with a chance of carving a slice of a huge pot. So long as they don’t follow the O’Brien pacemaker, on the law of averages, there is a good chance that most of them will do so at least once a year.

One jockey that is a breath of fresh air at present is Hayley Turner. She gives a cute girly interview in the Post today. She is cute but she is no ordinary girl. Even wizened curmudgeons like me have to grudgingly admit she is rather good. In fact she is better than rather good, she is top class. She might be a girl but somehow she can galvanise a horse as well as any man and she is the exception that disproves the rule. She is also very likeable, a bit of a pin-up and, yes, she deserves her success.

Back to the dark side of the moon: Today we have mammoth fields at Redcar and Goodwood. The racing seems to start at lunchtime and just keeps going, a bit like that dance competition that goes to the couple that are the last to remain on the dance floor. I am not so sure I want to be shuffling around for such a long time listening to racing presenters wish me good luck with my selections – unless we all back the same horses, we can’t all have good luck now can we. And during this mammoth event they will be trying to get me excited over events this weekend. Look, never mind about Ascot, let’s get today over with first shall we?

As for today, you start looking at the cards with the best of intentions but end up with the conclusion that only the names have changed. We can all come up with a 6/4 shot: Latin Tinge ought to win the 6.20 at Kempton having finished behind Rainbow View last time but from her draw; it is not a foregone conclusion. Redcar makes about as much sense as a newspaper article written in Mandarin. Goodwood poses the sort of questions that have bookmakers rubbing their hands and phoning their travel agents. There are too many unraced hoses on the card, the fields are too big, too crammed with moderate horses and when we get to the Listed event (assuming we are still vertical) we have seven runners who make a living out of taking the proverbial. Well, I take that back as Many Volumes seems straightforward although he has had a long season. They say Purple Moon needs the run – after a year off that seems reasonable – but as a course winner, he could still surprise. We are told Meydan City will be better over this shorter trip but in my opinion his form needs improving upon anyway. Tranquil Tiger will only win if he feels like it, so maybe some compensation for his consistency awaits Pinpoint. Maybe not; I don’t know! Thumbs Up should win the 4.55 but at 6/4 so what?

Now I do give Riverscape a chance in the 5.30. From a mark of 76, dropped to a more suitable trip and trained locally, he should be okay on this fairground ride of a track. But of course there is a catch. He has not run for forty-two days, so where has he been? Perhaps he has been on his annual holidays. Maybe he has the representation of a good lawyer, hassling on his behalf for an extra portion of oats before he makes his next appearance.

Mistakes

And Another Thing

September 2008

Mistakes

RACING is a great leveller. Open your mouth and make a statement and if proved wrong, there is no hiding place.

My comments regarding Jim Bolger’s bid to win the Group 1 Coolmore Fusaichi Pegasus Stakes with Lush Lashes need repeating. I may as well draw attention to them rather than afford some one else with the opportunity.

I felt sufficiently superior this morning to tell Mr Bolger that the ground was too soft for Lush Lashes and that in running her he ran a serious risk of Halfway To Heaven confirming Goodwood form. In which case, there was the possibility of Lush Lashes being labelled unlucky on the day but unable to overturn the form next time.

Do not do it I warned! Cannot win on the ground – ground that is soft but not as we know it Jim!

Good rhetoric – bad assumption. Can do it, did do it, result: Jim Bolger, not for the first time, makes me look foolish. Jim Bolger is my nemesis. He doesn’t even know I exist but, having been caught out by the assumption that Finsceal Beo had only poor form to her credit before the 1,000 Guineas of 2007, the vendetta – initiated by me – gathers momentum. This was my big chance to prove finally that I knew better than he did. Don’t give me no Lush Lashes!

As they came to gather her in, she kept galloping and it was Bolger four – me nil. With no Joe Cole to save the day, this gap looks likely to widen. For in the true tradition of those that look like genii on occasion and idiots on others, I shall whittle away at Mr Bolger in the foolhardy belief that I shall expose him in the end.

So some advice for myself: Get over it; it is just a horserace. You have not started World War III, nor have you actually lost money as you failed to place it where your big gob was. What you have done is to get carried away with your own importance, thinking you knew better than a renowned trainer who, after winning the Group 1 for fillies, followed up by winning the Irish Champion with New Approach.

That is the nature of this beast. Get on a roll, start backing a few winners and you delude yourself into thinking you have cracked the code.

The fall to earth can be a long one, unless of course you have experienced before. If not, you are new to the game, a liar or have never expressed an opinion. For the time being, it is life as we know it Jim – it’s worse than that he is dead Jim – or to put it bluntly, he got too big for his boots Jim!

The Bookies' Role

The Bookies’ role is to relieve us of money

THERE has been some comment this week from that nice firm of bookmakers, William Hill, complaining that in 2009 there will be four blank racing Sundays. Such an oversight must be a body blow to Hills and all who sail in her. Their chief executive, one Ralph Topping, a man with whom I am not familiar and one that I suspect moves in slightly different social circles to myself, lodged the complaint. Judging by his photograph, he does not appear to be the sort of man who would be too perturbed if his gas boiler suddenly broke down.

But to get back to the central point. I am assuming that one of these Sundays might just be Easter Sunday, so that means only three normal Sundays are affected. Whatever one’s religious convictions, whilst we live in a Christian society, for those who need reminding, Easter is the day when it is claimed Christ rose from the dead. This is not something that is done every day [the current record is once every two thousand years] so it seems reasonable to commemorate such an occasion with some respect even if part of that does include a visit to B&Q.

The point is we have had to witness the tail wagging the dog on the fixture list for some time now. Bookmakers have elbowed their way into this domain on the premise that the more money they take, the more they can plough, seed and scatter back into racing. How laudable, how magnamaniuos of them to be so concerned over racing’s finances! Of course, bookmakers are no different from that fat man representing the bank on television, insurance companies or gas suppliers. Their only concern is to make money for themselves and their shareholders. When bookmakers were (unfairly in my opinion) taxed on turnover, they sold the BHB the lie that the greater turnover they could achieve the more they could return to racing. This did not make a scrap of economic sense. At the time, they were taxed on the amount of money taken through the tills. So it followed that the better the results for the punter, the more money could be ‘turned over’ because it was a case of cash being recycled or re-invested. Therefore, when results were good for punters, bookmakers had to take more money to make a smaller profit margin and then pay more tax on this inflated turnover. So, it was never in their interest to increase turnover, always to increase profit. At that time what suited them was less turnover and a higher rate of profit, which for a bookmakers means a couple of big-priced results in key races. Unfortunately the BHB bought the benevolent line and increased the fixture list in the belief that it would increase turnover resulting in more Levy.

Bookmakers have always liked lots of racing. Ideally they want to turn betting shops, or even your living room if you have Racing UK and ATR, into the equivalent of a casino where something is happening every few seconds, giving you no time to think. Punters leapfrogging from one race to another, hurriedly scribbling out or punching bets into computers, will invariably make ill-considered opinions. Result? Bookmaker wins!

Even now with a re-vamped and fairer tax system based on a bookmaker’s profit, that profit can still be increased if the amount of racing on offer reaches saturation point. Saturdays are a prime example. A minimum of six meetings means punters cannot even go to the bathroom! You will watch horses you meant to back win, and horses you didn’t mean to back but did, lose. Lovely! Just what Jolly Joe ordered!

The reason Mr Topping is miffed by any blank day of racing is that it not only spoils another potentially profitable day, but it breaks the established precedent.  It gives punters the chance to spend their time and money on something else. And guess what? There is the danger they may enjoy taking the kids to the zoo, the wife or girlfriend out to lunch or watching their local football team play more than sitting in a betting office watching cartoon horses and a seventeen-runner handicap (reduced to fifteen of course) from Carlisle. And that would never do – much better to keep Betting Office Charlie where he belongs!

Bookmakers have invested a great deal of money on being smarmy. They have a legion of smarmy representatives that live a high life going from racecourse to racecourse where they pretend to be ‘one of us’. They will claim they have just done their dough on the last favourite, when it is against company policy for them to bet at all and in any case, they are earning far too much to bother.

I have never understood the classic statement made by the card player who has lost heavily at the table and then states: ‘Surely you must give me the chance to win my money back!’ Well, actually, no. I thought the object at a card school was for man A to relieve man B of his money as quickly as possible, then get the hell out of there, and start spending it. The same, I am afraid, applies to bookmakers. I can’t blame them, they are in business after all. But we need to be aware of their motives. It is not their place to compress the fixture list and dupe the racing authorities into believing they are on racing’s side. They are purely there to relieve as many of us as possible with the money we possess, and that includes the newly formed racing authority, the BHA, that seems no more able to see through them than did the old BHB.

Betfair

EXCHANGE BETTING

THE YEAR OF 2008 was for many the year when the dress rehearsal stopped. They had earned their wings. Having taken the concept of exchange betting for various test flights, during which teething difficulties were adjusted, now was the time for lift-off.

It is a fact that most people who open an account with Befair lose their initial deposit. There are good reasons for this statistic and for those not familiar with the pitfalls, allow me to elucidate.

Faced with the sight of hitherto unheard of generosity as regards prices, the newcomer to exchange betting will feel compelled to bet more often and with greater abandon. Having decided a horse priced in the paper at 9/1 has a chance, the opportunity to back it at 23/1 is too great a temptation. The same applies to the 16/1 shot with a squeak that is 45/1 on the exchange; and a horse that cannot really win but is 33/1 with the books that is available at 72/1. Surely, it is only a matter of time before one of these long shots – that is even longer with Betfair than it should be – obliges. So it is a case of a tenner here, a tenner there, a fiver on that 121/1 chance, another fiver on the silly-priced 202/1 rag and before our man knows it, he is £200 behind and on his way to tendering his card again to top up funds depleted by throwaway wagers. The lesson to learn is that you should not back a horse just because it is a big price. That may sound obvious, but some horses are very big prices indeed on Betfair.

Now, I buy clothes. Too many to tell the truth, and I am a pushover at sales. A girlfriend told me that the price of an item is irrelevant so long as you can afford it. Correctly, she stated that if you would not pay full price for something then you should not buy it at a reduced one.

Sound advice! The same principle, but in reverse, applies to betting. Do not be suckered into backing a horse just because you cannot resist its price.

To keep the clothes analogy alive: it is better to have a small but select wardrobe than to possess so many clothes you forget just what you do have.      Again, it is better to back less and for a bigger stake, than to tinker about all day frittering away small money on big-priced horses in the hope one of them will win. Unless you are lucky, losses will mount and a big-priced winner is not so big when you deduct losses. Betfair encourages constant play. It is similar to a casino where the roulette wheel is forever spinning. Once players start on the merry-go-round that is the wheel, playing sequences and certain numbers, they are frightened that once they leave the table all their numbers will start to bear fruit. Pardon the pun, but one-armed bandits have the same effect on those planted before them. They have to keep playing because the minute they leave, their bad run will turn into someone else’s good one.

A certain amount of adjustment is required with the exchanges and most people pay to find out. Forget the price temptation and pick off Betfair as you would a bookmaker. Remember, unlike a bookmaker, for every winning bet on Betfair there is a losing one. Betfair matches one player against another and unless the winning and losing sequence is maintained on roughly an equal basis, the concept (albeit a brilliant one, and one of those things someone should have thought of years ago) becomes stuck in the slot marked Zero.

When launched, Betfair appeared out of the clear blue water like the iceberg for the Titanic that represented bookmakers. It offered punters a chance – a golden opportunity – to bet on what they wished, whereas the bookmaker has no choice and is compelled to bet on everything. Now punters could shun those races they considered unfathomable, or had no interest in, and lay and bet at their own discretion. Great in theory and at first it worked wonderfully. Then some punters started to get above themselves and actually thought that, with the aid of clever computer programmes, they could make a living fixed in front of a computer just like those clever City boys who retire as millionaires aged thirty-three. Some very sharp, young whizz kids, who probably could have made more money had they applied themselves in a finance house, have made a success of trading on Betfair. Plenty have crashed and burned, sometimes in the space of a frenetic three days during which they kept punching and stabbing at computer keys, only to discover that events on the screen were happening too quickly for them, sending them hurtling from the sky in a financial fireball.

Computer programmes do help and there are commercial firms that offer software that will allow you to trade on a theoretical no-lose, no-risk basis. The idea is to tie up large sums of money with a view to making a guaranteed small profit without incurring a loss. This is known in the trade as arbing, derived from the French word arbitrage, inferring it is possible to trade without risk if one buys and sells at advantageous prices. Such a practise, which involves a different skill to winner-finding, is best handled by those with little or no knowledge of racehorses, but who understand figures. A computer is programmed to trade every horse in a race for a certain amount and will ensure that, although your outlay may in some cases run into thousands, you will make a fixed profit of, say £25. Only £25!  Does that seem ridiculously low? Not if you consider there are likely to be 40 opportunities to repeat this pattern in a day – more if you want to sit in front of your screen until the man on Racing UK says, ‘No more bets.’  £25 times forty is £1,000, which is what you can earn a day if you follow instructions. Seven days a week – that is at least £7,000 or over £350,000 per annum. That is the theory and does explain why unrealistically high prices appear against the names of certain horses. This is just a computer balancing its books so to speak. You didn’t really think someone somewhere thought he would risk losing £750 just to win £3 did you?

So two types of player have emerged as those most likely to stay the Betfair course: those that operate to a pre-scheduled programme and those who make considered opinions about which horses to lay and which to back. But, with the early euphoria of this ground-breaking concept off the ground and in full flight, its pitfalls have become apparent. Because prices on Betfair are greater than those offered by traditional layers, anyone wishing to lay a horse has to provide enhanced odds to become matched. Add the commission due and they have to be darned sure they know what they are doing. And, whilst bookmakers do not allow customers to lay horses, as time has progressed they have narrowed the gap between their odds and those on Betfair without subjecting punters to a surcharge. Bookmakers are fighting back in a big way. And another sort of phenomenon has reared its head. It is because bookmakers play on every race, and more importantly, like banks, they are playing with customer’s money that their risk is far less than ordinary Betfair punters, tying up their own capital each time they punch in a transaction. Suddenly from being impoverished business corporations fighting for survival, bookmakers have found the disposal income to match so-called ‘new customers’ on a pound-for-pound basis up to a maximum figure of a £100 bet. They will pay first past the post and on official result. They will guarantee odds, paying the biggest price ever shown. They will often refund stakes when a horse is unexpectedly taken out of an ante-post event, fails to start, or in National Hunt racing whips round as the tapes fly up. In short, you can more or less make up your own rules just so long as you continue to bet. That is how confident bookmakers are that they will win in the long run. They have become Caesar’s Palace in Vegas where the house always wins!

The big advantage Betfair has over bookmakers is that business with them is anonymous. If Aunt Dolly wants to have £2 on a 50/1 shot you can put the bet on for her without having to make up the amount to a minimum total of £10 per call. No one from Betfair can run round the betting village telling tales of who did their money on what. If the bet is on the screen, anyone can avail themselves and in confidence.

However, Betfair is a drink to be taken with tonic. Prices tend to leap about constantly. You can take what you consider to be a perfectly reasonable 5/2 one minute, for it to be 10/3 two minutes later. I know people who fall into the trap of pressing up when this happens. Don’t! Chances are the odds have only extended to afford a trader the chance to extricate himself from a situation he has misjudged and that he is paying a fine to balance his liability. The price normally levels out and even if it fails to, so long as you took a considered 5/2, your transaction is finished. If you have laid a horse at 6/4 and you can now lay it at 5/4 – don’t. Again, apply the same principle. Do not be influenced by movements on the screen. Others will play games, attempt to manipulate prices, or are just being plain silly. All you need concern yourself with is that you have acted in a calm and reasoned manner and that you know what you are doing.

There are many areas of exchange betting to be considered and doubtless we will return to the subject. One piece of advice I would pass on whether betting with bookmakers or exchanges is this: Before racing make a list – be it large or small – of the bets you intend to strike and the stakes. Do not deviate from this unless you are either winning or losing so much that either prudence or damage-limitation is required. Try to avoid making off the cuff decisions. Invariably they will prove to be poor and poor decisions in gambling cost you hard cash.

Links:

Betfair Free bet: Betdaq Free bet: Bet365 Free Bet,: More Bookmakers Free Bets

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Youth is wasted on the Young

AND ANOTHER THING

September 2008

Youth is wasted on the young

YOUTH is wasted on the young, or so they say. At least that well-known philosopher Robbie Williams said it! Actually, there is a paradox about growing older. You become wiser as you age but less able to utilise such wisdom as first the mind, then the body becomes a barrier.

After a certain age, when we own two-thirds of our houses, appreciate fine wine, have paid for the car and have a suit for every occasion but never wear them, we yearn to play safe. So those most able to make sound, risk-based decisions find themselves opting out. It strikes me that there must be a flashpoint in every life when the individual knows just enough and is rash enough to play the hand of cards he is dealt to their best effect. Such a point in time is akin to the launch period for a rocket bound for outer space. It is that allotted time for lighting the burners and starting the countdown. Recognising such a moment is difficult and largely only after its passing can one look back and say – that was it – that was my moment in time. This is a sad reflection on the irony of life and perhaps not wholly appropriate to a light-hearted piece of froth such as this. But I will make one observation before the nurse comes to tuck me up: If youth is wasted on the young, then wisdom is wasted on the old!

It is Saturday morning and I am about to be very wise indeed. It is my opinion today is a very difficult day as far as betting is concerned. There appear to be some good things on the cards, all spotted by the odds-compilers so their odds are cramped. These include: Major Cadeaux, Look Busy, Frozen Fire [although drifting as I write], Septimus and Contretemps, or so I am told. You may have other ideas. Some of you may be including Zacinto in this list although I am tempted to lay it, but have decided that if backing a 4/5 winner on the day is the best I can come up with, it is not worth the bother. But you see, if of the same opinion, Harry the Flash, having just cleared his head of all the wine and Bacardi Breezers of last night, would press the lay button on Betfair and get stuck in. Another day – another dollar!

An outfit of young whizz kids runs Betfair. It was a wonderful concept, rather like the idea of opening a bank and charging people for the privilege of depositing their money therein. But it seems the Hoorays that run Betfair are becoming a little too big for their brogues. In a mean-spirited and rather autocratic gesture, they are penalising those exploiting Betfair as a means to making money by increasing their commission – and I kind of thought making money was the idea.

The potential problem with Betfair was always that for it to work, for each person wishing to back a horse, there had to be someone willing to lay it. So there would be no shortage of layers for something like Zacinto today, but what about the likes of my two outsiders in the sprint races: Evens And Odds at 25/1 and Strike The Deal at 66/1? They will probably sink without a trace but that is not the point. Who needs £1 so badly they will risk losing £25 in the first case, or £66 in the second.  No one! So the mere fact such prices are available at all is because they are part of a package, a computer generated programme that has worked out how to lay every horse in the race and to produce a small but guaranteed profit for the operator. Either that or a bookmaker somewhere, using a similar system, is balancing his books. For there to be takers at such prices, those takers have to be using Betfair as a tool. So we arrive at another paradox. Betfair want to use the latter part of their name at all costs; but without the whizz kids exploiting the service they provide, layers on anything over the price of 3/1 will dry up.

Right now, what with this credit crunch we hear so much about, it seems everyone is after your money. Actually I suspect they have been for quite a while. But have you ever noticed how long it takes to get confirmation of an order, or for a query to be processed, in comparison to the speed with which the phone rings or a representative calls when you make an enquiry.

But some firms or organisations are worse than others when we come to the what’s fair and what’s not stakes. We live in a capitalist society so it is reasonable for companies to make money. It is their methods that can rankle.

It is no good complaining ad hoc about every profit-making concern but as consumers, I do feel we have the right to be aware of those bodies most likely to rip us to financial shreds.

I have a list of four. Top of any list should be the Government – any government. The only organisation that is not held accountable and can squeeze the consumer (that’s us the taxpayer) when they get their sums wrong without any or little recourse.

Second are banks. They operate a cartel and use our money to line the pockets of shareholders and have the cheek to charge us for the privilege of not having to keep wads under the bed.

Thirdly, I would add fast-food chains that sell crap food, pretend there is something trendy or healthy about what they provide and charge top prices to induce their consumers into becoming fat.

The last are insurance companies who must be awash with money right now, as it does not seem possible to turn on the television without seeing an advertisement for some firm or another offering to cover you up to your armpits. No one wants to pay insurance but if you drive a car it is, quite rightly, the law. What we want is to pay the minimum to cover us against the worst possible scenario. It is plain by the way their adverts are phrased that what they want is to make us believe we need cover for every eventuality. From the moment we wake in the morning, in case the sound of the alarm clock pierces our eardrums, until we get back into bed at night, should it collapse under our Big Mac weight and require us to be in traction for six weeks.

Those I would leave off the list include estate agents (try selling or buying a house without one), footballers and rock stars ( they can do what we can’t and people pay to see them do it) and, yes, bookmakers. Whatever we say about the old enemy, at least we have a choice. If we don’t like the price about Major Cadeaux we can let it run. If we don’t feel like guessing where you need to be drawn in the thirty-runner sprint we don’t have to bet. If they offer 6/1 about a horse and it wins, they pay. They don’t suddenly find an insurance-type clause that means they only have to pay you out at 5/2 because it won by ten lengths.

Not that I am expecting any altercations with anyone today. I have backed two big-priced no-hopers that are unlikely to trouble the judge or the adjudicator. But I shall sleep soundly, reinforced by half a bottle of French red and the knowledge I have kept out of trouble for at least one more day.

Newmarket Trainers Inside Information Seminar

And Another Thing

September 2008

Newmarket Trainers Inside Information seminar

MID-MORNING and we are all still here. The Hadron Collider has not got us yet but there is time – two months by all accounts. It strikes me all this questing to re-create the Big Bang is a strange situation, sprung without any warning on those of us who live on this planet. Apparently, there is a remote chance of this contraption metaphormaphisising solid matter into something nasty enough to make us a gooey mass. Quite how remote a chance this is has not been revealed. Alternatively, it could produce a black hole that would suck us all into oblivion (already been done in some cases), or possibly into a parallel, and who knows better, universe. Stephen Hawkins claims this is not a possibility. Okay, but on the assumption that everything is possible, is it asking too much for him to put a figure on it? Are the odds a million, ten million, a trillion? I mention this because I do not recall anyone consulting those of us who live on this blue rock whether we actually wished to sanction such action. And of course Mr Hawkins is on a bet to nothing. Assuming he is right and we are here tomorrow trying to figure out the winner of the Park Hill or May Hill Stakes, or head scratching over the Cambridgeshire next month or the Hennessey the month after, his prediction has been borne out; if wrong he will not be culpable.

Someone similarly absolved from his actions appears to be our old friend Mr Paul Scotney who, having summoned Newmarket trainers to a seminar when he was going to teach them how to suck the proverbial egg, he failed to turn up, possibly demonstrating by proxy how to suck a lemon. Most of the trainers concerned seemed surprisingly restrained in their comments of the non-appearance by this self-appointed autocrat of the BHA. In typical policeman-speak, ex-cop Mr Scotney, who seems to have difficulty grasping the rudiments of the written or spoken word said: “The reason we wanted to go down this education route was that on a number of occasions jockeys and trainers found to have been involved in problems in this area would say they didn’t realise they were doing wrong.”

Cor blimey guv, so that’s what it’s all abat! Such gobbledegook may cut it in the interview room down at the nick but frankly, such a cobbled together, incoherent and grammatically incorrect statement makes no sense in the real world. What he presumably meant to say was something like, “We wanted to increase awareness on security issues so that jockeys and trainers would be able to identify when they were transgressing the rules.” I am sorry if it is sometimes necessary to use long words that are difficult to spell Mr Scotney. You can use little ones if you find it easier but the main thing is that what you say or write makes sense and that you do not require an interpreter. Scotney’s comment on his absence that “Today’s package was on inside information, not debating the subject,” is another example of his feeble grasp of the language known as English and his scant regard for the very people who keep the show on the road.

I wonder how Mr Scotney and his band of despots will handle any of the incoming horserace trainers that are on the list of immigrants most likely to be allowed into this country from outside the European Community. Who thought this one up – someone escaping from the black hole we are hoping to avoid?

One trainer allowed to set up an establishment here, Mr Kamil Mahdi, was warned off for ten years in 2003 and is now seeking to regain his licence. Mr Mahdi had several unique ways of training his horses. It appears one of them was to leave his charges in their boxes unattended for five days, forcing them to live in their own urine and faeces. Not sure if it will catch on Mr Mahdi… But apparently there is a shortage of fish filleters!

Newmarket Trainers Inside Information Seminar

And Another Thing

August 2008

A novel way to get a well handicapped race horse

SO IT IS OFFICIAL! After two episodes at the starting stalls, Bentong is to be issued with a warning by the authorities. He refused to race in the Stewards’ Cup at Goodwood and then repeated the formula at Ascot in the Shergar Cup – much to the chagrin of his inactive pilot, Jamie Spencer.

I cannot help but speculate what form this warning will take. Bentong is by Anaaba and trained by Paul Cole. Note it is not Mr Cole that is to be warned but the horse itself. So will a deputation from Portman Square arrive at Mr Cole’s stables and demand to see Bentong in his box? Whilst Bentong hangs his unconcerned head over his stable door, possibly contemplating other and more cunning ways of relinquishing his obligation to race, will the officials give the horse a stern talking to and then confiscate his supply of carrots?

The last time Bentong consented to race, he finished third to Damika on the 5th July from a mark of 102. Almost a month later, he presumably scanned the opposition at Goodwood, went into the stalls and decided it would be best not to exit. Strangely, after his appearance at Goodwood, the handicapper dropped him 2lbs – presumably for turning up. This seems particularly odd considering Damika has been raised 7lbs since beating Bentong by three lengths in July. Is it possible that Bentong is smarter than the BHA is giving him credit for? After all, he has achieved a ratings drop of 2lbs without any exertion on his part with the exception of hacking to the start twice. Perhaps he has hit on a way of getting himself well-handicapped without going through the process of racing.

Maybe the authorities should consider picking his brains. Maybe there could be a position for him at the BHA. Personally, I can think of one!

A novel way to get a well handicapped race horse

And Another Thing

August 2008

A novel way to get a well handicapped race horse

SO IT IS OFFICIAL! After two episodes at the starting stalls, Bentong is to be issued with a warning by the authorities. He refused to race in the Stewards’ Cup at Goodwood and then repeated the formula at Ascot in the Shergar Cup – much to the chagrin of his inactive pilot, Jamie Spencer.

I cannot help but speculate what form this warning will take. Bentong is by Anaaba and trained by Paul Cole. Note it is not Mr Cole that is to be warned but the horse itself. So will a deputation from Portman Square arrive at Mr Cole’s stables and demand to see Bentong in his box? Whilst Bentong hangs his unconcerned head over his stable door, possibly contemplating other and more cunning ways of relinquishing his obligation to race, will the officials give the horse a stern talking to and then confiscate his supply of carrots?

The last time Bentong consented to race, he finished third to Damika on the 5th July from a mark of 102. Almost a month later, he presumably scanned the opposition at Goodwood, went into the stalls and decided it would be best not to exit. Strangely, after his appearance at Goodwood, the handicapper dropped him 2lbs – presumably for turning up. This seems particularly odd considering Damika has been raised 7lbs since beating Bentong by three lengths in July. Is it possible that Bentong is smarter than the BHA is giving him credit for? After all, he has achieved a ratings drop of 2lbs without any exertion on his part with the exception of hacking to the start twice. Perhaps he has hit on a way of getting himself well-handicapped without going through the process of racing.

Maybe the authorities should consider picking his brains. Maybe there could be a position for him at the BHA. Personally, I can think of one!

Oddschecker using the wrong colour?

Is it me or is everything in racing designed to be misleading. Take for example the GoingStick reading. Surely anyone starting from scratch with this would decide that the softer the going the higher the rating. But no, we can rely on it to be the other way round: Heavy reads 1 and hard 15.

Now looking at it logically, the softer the ground, the further the stick will penetrate. So shouldn’t heavy be 15 and hard – barely scratching the surface – be 1? Or is that too simple?

And who decided on the Oddschecker site to make blue the colour of a market-mover inwards and pink the colour of a drifter? I suppose this was done to reflect the colour-coding on Betfair where blue is back and pink lay.

However, blue is a cold colour, synonymous with a horse that is friendless, so I would have thought rather than using it to denote a horse attracting interest the opposite would apply. Oddschecker go a stage further on the opening pages of their site where green means a horse being backed (yes, I can follow that – green for go) but red (surely the hottest colour found) is used to indicate a horse on the drift.

Maybe I need a darkened room…