Playing it safe, a dumb and terrible thing

Were it not for the staggering losses already sustained over the last 12 months spent betting on US racing, last night would have come close to being a day I declared this game to be easy.

Four races, all in the maiden class, and all at the Big-A. Not only that but an unexpected day off thanks to a magazine commission being switched to a later date, and I had a full day to handicap, and handicap like a champion I did.

The second race on the card was a state bred maiden special weight for fillies. No payout but Dean Henry ran second and my other bet Maria’s Muse ran a better than predicted close fourth – worth keeping a watch on. In the fourth Heartsforhaley did enough for me to pick up money for a place and in the sixth Saarlight did the same. To complete the night Wise Pitch managed third, good for my show bet, making it three winners out of four.

But like great drink, there’s a fuggy and painful downside…

Tonight’s was the “safety” bet I had on each; cowardice gripping my betting buttons and eating into what modest profit I was making. So I say thanks to Perfect Bluff and Jamies Gem for bringing me back down to earth and making this game complicated again.

A cold bleak Monday

No racing on a Monday, or (Jesus!) Tuesday either now I think of it. It means coming up with some other way to pass the evening hours between the kids going to bed and me going to bed. Thanks to a dusting of snow across the UK, bringing the fifth largest economy in the world to a halt, there wasn’t even an English race to throw money at.

So it was with incredible timing that my copy of “Betting on Myself” by DRF’s Steve Crist arrived after a late night raid on Amazon a couple of weeks ago. I’m prone towards impulse purchases for racing books, normally on a Monday or Tuesday, and the fruits of this latest whim came through the door this morning.

Crist is a universal name in the American racing world. A former New York Times racing reporter, he left to head the ill-fated Maxwell-funded (same thing?) Racing Times in the early nineties. When that collapsed for various reasons Crist was out of work and returned to his past life of playing (and winning) the pick-six. After a quick spell on the NYRA he led the successful bid to buy the Racing Form in the late nineties where he remains as chairman today.

I know all this because I read the book in about ten hours yesterday. I couldn’t put the thing down. If I’d had that same feeling at school and then University I’d probably be well paid and working in an office somewhere now.

Anyway, that passed Monday, but it leaves a cold bleak Tuesday with no racing.

Last night the bottle didn’t let me down

There’s always something that can take the shame out of stacking your empty vodka bottles in a cupboard somewhere, and that’s a winner.

Majhood, a 3yo maiden trained by Kieran McLaughlin, romped home in cavalry fashion last night in the sixth at Aqueduct, breaking the crooked spell that had me sobbing into a two week long no-win hell, a streak that the Awesome Again colt mercifully ended after 12 lonely bets. Surely this sets me back on the path to victory.

Last night’s two maiden races occupied about six hours of my day, punctuated by pauses to drag my 18 month old son out of some dangerous trap he’d got himself into while his mother worked in her office upstairs. Six hours for two races.

The first of which I forgot to bet on. I was all set to back Ajustabull (who rallied to record an impressive 2nd) before the race coincided with bath time. In the sixth I threw my lot in with Majhood despite him being what I thought was a surprise favourite. But his was still a good price (I managed 4 to 1) on Betfair.

The rest, as they say, was toasted with vodka cocktails until late.

The solution must be to back everyone

Albertus Maximus - winner of the Donn Handicap

I’m now living with the reality of no winners since 17 January. That’s ten bets. A storm in New York last Wednesday saved me a few – no racing equals no betting – but as a $2 bet junkie I was desperate to get involved and with no outlet in sight I was forced to go back to the books…

This meant delving into my new fad of Maiden races, thanks to Dan Illman’s “Betting Maidens & 2 Year Olds”. I like Dan Illman and his Trip Handicapping DVD was worth all the hassle I went through to get it here from the States. But what Dan makes appear simple is in reality a bastard to get right, as I discovered with fresh intentions on Thursday, Friday and again on Saturday night.

Picking out the maidens at the Big-A on Thursday I managed a second and a fourth, followed by a second and a sixth on Friday. Yesterday there were five maidens, resulting in six hours of handicapping to wrestle nothing better than a well earned second to note on my spreadsheet. Maybe, I thought, a pop at the Donn Handicap would stop this spiralling panic?

My notes show that my best results come in Stakes and Group races; Ventura, Dream Empress, Tale of Ekati, Here Comes Rita and Barrier Reef had all came good for me and not only that but the Donn Handicap, a mile and an eighth blast around the dirt at Gulfstream Park, featured one of my favourite horses – Einstein.

My interest in the seven year old went back to Illman’s Trip Handicapping DVD which shows several examples of why this Brazilian dark bay out of the late Spend a Buck doesn’t know the meaning of “tired”, often running rotten routes, chicaning around inferior beasts, but still getting his nose to the line first. I felt better. Einstein wouldn’t let me down, and at 3 to 1 on Corals, the only book in the UK offering prices, I felt my quid was in good hands.

Turned out the Donn Handicap was no easier than the maidens. Still, the next best thing to winning on horses is losing on horses, and the gin cocktails helped. If only you could bet on the results of drink…

Balls on the line…

"Turn back, nothing to see here."

Storms are due, brining all manner of mayhem to Queens leaving punters like me facing a dark night with nothing. I say race! But PETA would have my balls.

The only real cost is the 29 sheets of A4 and the ink expenditure printing out the PPs, so maybe the greens will have my balls instead. Anyway, at my current ROI that could take me several years to earn back. It may be time to get reckless.

The times, they are a Curlin

Horse of the Year - Curlin

So Curlin won Horse of the year for the second year in succession after an Eclipse Award process that I admit I don’t understand, the first horse to do so since Cigar. In the process he bestows the first defeat, off track at least, to Zenyatta, named champion older female, by 153 to 69.

I liked Curlin for many reasons but mainly because he was a horse who got you interested. I’ve bet on hundreds of horses, most of which I can’t remember the name of. But Curlin, with flashes of brilliant white, and class and acceleration to make your balls tingle, I’ll remember.

I came late though, watching Curlin first in the Dubai World Cup back in April 2008. A rebellious columnist in the Racing Post warned against him, opting instead for Jalil. Fancying myself bit of an iconoclast I went with the great flop Jalil who was then pummelled by a yellow and maroon smear that won by many lengths. I learned my lesson fast. Curlin was my horse.

Thinking back though, I never won any money on him. (Shit, really?) Is it just me? Possible. The first time I backed him was in the Man-o-War from the ego driven sports book of the Rio All suites hotel and casino where, granted ten minutes furlough from working the World Series of Poker, I placed a Curlin-Red Rocks exacta, forgetting to box it of course, and cheered on my embarrassingly short favourite into second place, behind Red Rocks.

The second time came in his final race, at Santa Anita, the Breeder’s Cup Classic. My record over the two day meet lacked finesse. I’d backed Ventura in the Sprint and Dream Express in the Juvenile Fillies for my only two winners. Now I was choked by sentimentality. Go with Curlin in the Polytrack Classic or someone else? No, I backed no one. I’d saved money on Curlin’s fourth place, but couldn’t go with another.

Well anyway. His best win came last.

Eighteen hours…

I’m confused, with no clue what I’m doing. But as the big hand nears 10pm I must admit the gin is helping. I started betting on American horse racing when things started going wrong at home tracks. US racing had all kinds of advantages. For a start all the tracks looked the same. Second, it’s shown late at night when the kids are in bed. And more importantly, it collides nicely with the cocktail hour, which starts around 8.17pm.

With kids asleep I finally have time to point the remote towards At the Races, catch the seventh race at Aqueduct and bet your balls. If I’m lucky I’ll have used my own methods to give a horse the honour of carrying my money. If not I’ll try to watch anyway and attempt to decode the madness of this most beautiful of things. Then, simply repeat the process for the eighth and ninth in winter; and the tenth and eleventh in summer.

None of this is as simple as it seems. My “own method”, in its current form, takes about two hours per race. So to handicap an entire racecard, regardless of whether I’d actually be able to watch any of it, takes around 18 hours. Not only that I rarely hit the winner. This should be easy! Instead my method of betting, to paraphrase Jeffrey Bernard, is probably the best way to stop a horse.

Then there’s this extra level of hell – after a full year I still have no idea what I’m doing. The start of this blog marks the passing of 100 bets, snuck in when possible across the US, mainly on the east coast tracks of Saratoga, Finger Lakes and Aqueduct. I’m down, with a ROI of about -50p per race. It’s terrible and I love every minute of it.

But I need to work out how this game works, because I read the books, I watch the DVDs, I make notes, I even think for myself. I just don’t get it. Even worse, my wife is making money regularly on UK racing. I’m a man with an ego. What if something gives?

Time to get serious, and that’s what this blog will be about. Tally ho. We’re off and running.