AYR GOLD CUP
Week 19 to August 1
I HAD arranged to go to Glorious Goodwood with a team of agents, taking the usual care with my travel arrangements. They were all in top spirits and I took advantage of the mood to amuse the team by giving them all military ranks. We had Major Geoffrey Pooley, Major McClymont, Captain Green and, with great reluctance and modesty, I decided that I should be appointed Field Marshal. Major Pooley wasn’t terribly keen on the ranking system and opted instead to refer to me as Captain Mainwaring, but such insubordination was ruthlessly squashed.
I dismissed objections to the lack of generals, colonels and brigadiers by pointing out that this gave them all something to aim for, and that a four-rank gap seemed about right for the moment. Our newest agent, Derek Brearley, started out with the rank of private, although his tendency at the time to treat drinking as an alternative to sleeping caused a number of temporary demotions to the rank of cadet.
One agent, Peter Hurst, seemed almost too keen on the ranking system. Initially appointed a Captain, he seemed genuinely serious in seeking promotion to Major as soon as possible. He made sure that my every need was catered for, so I only had to drop a hint for him to be straight on the phone to his Sergeant. “The Field Marshal needs a paper with tomorrow’s runners in it STRAIGHT AWAY.” He’d have made someone a lovely wife.
Peter had known the legendary punter Alex Bird and was the last man to assist him with his bets. For me, Bird’s reputation was somewhat undermined by the fact that much of his winnings came from betting on the results of photo-finishes. Two people subsequently told me that he had a source signalling from the judge’s box, which may help explain his astonishing success in that sphere. His autobiography was an interesting collection of tales. The son of a bookmaker, he was an early convert to the benefits of race-time analysis, particularly for two-year-olds, and profited accordingly. He also revealed that he made only 1.83 per cent profit on his turnover, although he had to cut right back and change his methods once betting tax of four per cent was introduced. At one time he was turning over in excess of £2 million a year, which was a lot of money 40 years ago or more, but betting tax curtailed his activities to such an extent that his turnover did not exceed £250,000 in later years. Unfortunately, his former associate Major Hurst became a little too keen on the after-race socialising a couple of years later and proved more than I could handle.
Over the next year or two, as I started to have more horses in training, some of the trainers joined in the rankings banter. I can remember Nigel Tinkler calling me straight after a punt had been landed. Rather than discussing the race, or future plans for the horse, his first words were: “What rank am I now?”
Staying overnight at the races posed a serious danger to my profitability unless things were organised very carefully. Experience taught me that work in hotel rooms was much less effective than that at home, as I didn’t have everything around me, so my new assistant Charles Robarts (aka The Robot) would simply recreate my office in the largest hotel room we could find. I would travel directly to the races and my office would then be set up during the afternoon. The idea was that I could work right up to the minute I left my office in London and restart the moment I entered the hotel room. The Robot quickly became a key member of the team, so that it was not long before he had his own assistant to take care of such matters.
On the Monday before Goodwood, I picked up some warm business for an unraced two-year-old called Magical Millie. I felt her three rivals at Folkestone were so moderate that I had to go for quite a punt. Magical Millie lived up to her name when giving me the ideal start to the week with an early bonus of £37,930 from a stake of £10,050. There were no full bets on Tuesday, but a trading bet on Rudi’s Pet won me just over £10,000.
Although I was seeing the form well, I was happy to concede that I was in one of those spells when the dice were rolling my way. By Wednesday, my luck was definitely in, as I’d had a five-figure result for five days running. I’d decided that Bachir was a potential star after his first race at Chepstow, where he had been awesomely impressive, and was keen to get stuck into him in a sub-standard-looking Richmond Stakes. I had hoped for odds of 7-4 but had to take less, getting most of my money on at 11-8 and collecting £28,625 for an outlay of £20,000. Now I was finally due some fun. I’d just started seeing a girl called Kryssy, who arrived, looking stunning, for a couple of days. I’d met her through Martin’s wife Rebecca, who ran a modelling agency. My workrate dropped until Thursday evening (although I couldn’t say the same for my heartrate), and it was good to relax.
By the end of the week, though, I realised that I’d have to be careful not to become carried away with recent successes. My mental state was in some ways still finely balanced, and this brief taste of the high life was in danger of having too much of an effect before I’d had a chance to calm down and reflect on the year. Although huge confidence in my betting skills was a good thing, there was a 24-hour period at the end of the week when I lost my sense of perspective. It cost me dear. By Friday afternoon, when caution was called for, I was so pleased with myself that I allowed self-confidence to get the better of me.
The race concerned was Saturday’s Stewards’ Cup, the thrilling cavalry charge across the roof of Sussex. I’d decided that Pepperdine, winner of the William Hill Trophy at York, was a Group horse in the making. I had backed him ante-post but knew I had to wait for the draw before I really let rip on the day. I wanted the highest draw possible, and 25 of 30 was fine. To make absolutely sure, I had to ensure that connections knew the importance of racing tight on the far rail.
I didn’t know Pepperdine’s trainer David Nicholls, but Peter had met him. As I discussed the race among the troops on Friday afternoon, I asked him to find Nicholls so I could let him know my thoughts. This was the point that I should have realised I was getting carried away. Captain Hurst was urgently pursuing his promotion, so he marched straight off. Less than 20 seconds later, to the amazement of all concerned, he marched back into the restaurant with his arm around a slightly bemused-looking Nicholls. After briefing him about the finer points of my views, I brushed aside the comments of a couple of my agents to the effect that he hadn’t seemed to be that confident. As for looking bemused, that hadn’t done Kevin Darley any harm at Newcastle. Such things didn’t matter. Pepperdine was going to win.
I also talked the race over with Duncan Lipscombe, a very sound judge with whom I have often discussed form over the years. He didn’t fancy Pepperdine at all. I told him he was wrong. Later, a second losing bet on Alegria in two weeks failed to dampen my enthusiasm, even though the further loss of £13,739.45 made her the most expensive horse of the year to date. If those clues were not enough to set the alarm bells ringing, then a call the next morning should certainly have put me off. The caller told me he’d heard a rumour that the course had been watered unevenly on Friday evening to offset the draw advantage of the far rail. Pepperdine’s high draw suddenly didn’t seem so comforting.
Now I had three reasons to doubt a horse who was a hot favourite, but by this stage there was no stopping me. I ploughed into Pepperdine all morning and by lunchtime I’d staked more than £40,000. I got the result that my overconfidence deserved – Pepperdine finished 18th.
The only positive that emerged from this sorry saga is that my pig-headed foolishness dawned on me very quickly. I was fuming, and knew I’d been unwise to get so overconfident. I’d had a winning week and was now nearly £600,000 up in four months, so it was hardly a perilous situation. But I had learned a harsh lesson, having wasted more than £40,000 on a horse whose defeat was foreseeable. From that point on, the size of my bets wouldn’t be dropping, but I’d always have my foot near the brake pedal ready to press hard when needed.
Weekly total: £23,784.20
Running profit: £599,579.09
Week 20 to August 8
With the Pepperdine disaster uncomfortably fresh in my mind, perhaps I should have pulled in my horns. Instead, I had a losing week, caused largely by a bet of £18,748 on Common Place, who ran a shocker at Newcastle.
Weekly total: -£30,605
Running profit: +£568,974.09
Weeks 21 & 22 to August 22
I combined two weeks’ betting into one set of figures to make sure I had time to attend York’s Ebor meeting. The only real point of interest in the whole fortnight was an academic one, featuring the shortest price I took all year. While at York, I backed 2-7 shot The Tatling at Brighton, laying out £7,000 for a profit of £2,000.
I’m often asked whether I prefer horses at short or long odds. In theory, it makes no difference to me, as I’m only looking for a horse who’s hugely underestimated by the betting market. Now you’ll ask how can a 2-7 favourite be seriously underestimated? Only if I think he’s 90 per cent sure to win, even allowing for everything that can go wrong in a horse race. I probably back around five odds-on shots a year but I make a profit on that business. The Tatling had the look of a certainty that day. He was outstandingly the best horse in the race and looked sure to give his running. Everything was in his favour and he actually returned at 1-4. I’m not going to get rich with those five odds-on bets a year, but in the course of a season’s work they will come along anyway, and I might as well have the profit they make.
You see all sorts of gamblers at the racecourse. That day I was with two agents waiting for the betting to open in the racecourse betting shop. After I had sent them off to take the 2-7, a nearby punter, who overheard our conversation, sprinted away to place his bet. Afterwards, he came rushing up to one of my agents and shook his hand with great excitement. None of us could believe that anyone would be so delighted at backing a 2-7 winner. Times must have been hard!
Fortnightly total: £5,107.45
Running profit: £574,081.54
Week 23 to August 28
A fairly quiet week, with a frustrating run of three seconds balanced by a modest win on Nice One Clare at Newmarket. She would later get well and truly in my bad books when fortunate to beat my big touch horse, Ellens Academy, in the 2001 Wokingham Handicap at Royal Ascot.
Weekly total: £8,655.35
Running profit: £582,736.89
We enjoyed the day at Beverley on the Sunday, when Pertemps FC looked likely to run well from a good draw. It’s interesting how often the draw was a feature of my betting in those days, something that would change radically as watering systems improved over the years. My agents turned out in force, although the eventual bet was only of trading size as his form was looking more exposed by then. The success of my tactical advice about some of Tim Easterby’s horses meant that there was no concern about my instructions not being followed by jockey Lindsay Charnock. I wanted him to stay tight against the far rail, be patient and not strike until inside the final furlong. He timed it perfectly on Pertemps FC, who swept into the lead just before the line for a head success.
This caused much hilarity at the yard the next day. Charnock was a strong, extremely effective jockey but not known for holding his mounts up very often, so the lads at Easterby’s had much to say about his new ice-cool riding style. I won a little over £12,000 and enjoyed seeing the tactics pay off.
We hurried around Beverley that day like we were in a Benny Hill sketch, trotting off to all points of the track in Indian file. We were late for lunch and had to dash to the paddock, then scampered off to watch the race before heading for the winner’s enclosure and being taken off for a drink. Then we darted to the Tote shop, arriving with four furlongs left to run to see Common Place land a small bet at 8-1. The troops cheered the two winners noisily, which was rather embarrassing, as I always prefer to keep my cards much closer to my chest. The following year, the matter of keeping our business confidential became so important that the cheering would have to stop, but it was all a bit of fun at the time.
I’d been very impressed with Jailhouse Rocket at Carlisle the previous week and couldn’t see him being beaten at Ripon on the Tuesday. The need to save the tax on a short-priced favourite made the trip to the track worthwhile and I devised a plan to have the troops spread our cash among a few key layers, but Jailhouse Rocket failed to take off, finishing second and costing me £11,000. I also had a good crack on Brecongill Lad at Epsom on Saturday but he couldn’t get past the front-running Tuscan Dream. Goodbye to another £11,118.
Weekly total: -£13,922.10
Running profit: £568,814.79
Week 25 to September 11
It was clear from my profit and loss column that things had slackened off markedly, with no overall progress in six weeks. There were plenty of near-misses, but looking back it’s obvious that I was already past my best for the season. The incredible effort I had put in over the first four months had left its mark.
I made a brief visit to the Doncaster St Leger meeting for a couple of serious bets. I underestimated Swallow Flight when going for a £16,000 punt on Desert Knight, who was well beaten in second, but Distant Music was the top two-year-old on my list following his debut and he made no mistake in the Champagne Stakes, netting me £30,172.70. Clive Brittain’s stable has never been my favourite, but I had a little tickle on his filly Teggiano, who looked overpriced in the morning betting in the May Hill Stakes. She won by three lengths and I collected £17,274.
Weekly total: £26,297.20
Running profit: £595,111.99
Week 26 to September 18
This week capped my comeback nicely. On Tuesday, I had the best result of the year from a trading bet on a single horse. My touch on Sharoura was mostly about the draw. Morning odds of 25-1 were just too big about a horse with a plum draw of 14 of 14 at Yarmouth, as the fastest ground was sure to be under the stands’ rail, although I wasn’t confident, hence my modest trading stake. She started at 20-1 and, no doubt aided by the draw, burst through late on to snatch the spoils by a head. I felt a little fortunate to win £34,645.70 on a minor fancy but it was a great start to the week.
I then made my first visit to Ayr for the Western meeting, although I was to see a lot more of the place over the next few years. Pertemps FC was favourite for the first race on the Friday, but I made a mistake in having a sizeable bet. His win at Beverley had been boosted when the runner-up Mrs P went on to win the Flying Childers at Doncaster, but the overall quality of the form was ordinary at best and I paid insufficient attention to the fact that we’d raced on the quickest part of the track. I was carried away by the exuberance of ownership and saw only the positive side. As with Pepperdine at Goodwood, I learned my lesson quickly and would in future set the bar much higher before I’d back one of my horses.
The money wasn’t gone for long, though, as I got it all back and more half an hour later at Newbury. Veil Of Avalon had found a race in which I wanted to oppose all her opponents and she won me £26,435 from bets at 4-1 and 7-2. We placed the business while having an excellent lunch in Ayr’s Western House restaurant, a meal most memorable for the fact that one of our group had brought his sister. Halfway through lunch, we noticed that she had the words ‘BITE ME’ tattooed in huge letters on her lower back. Major Hurst couldn’t wait for the end of the day, so that he could say goodbye and add: “I’m sorry I didn’t get to bite you, but there’s always next time.”
And then along came our old friend and Bunbury Cup winner Grangeville. I’d kept my eye on him since July; he’d been beaten twice over seven furlongs, but those runs taught me that he was definitely going to be best as a sprinter. Soon after the weights came out for the Ayr Gold Cup I stepped in with a thick bet at 20-1 and 16-1. He then ran a stormer when third in a Listed race over six furlongs at Newmarket in late August. I knew that a stronger pace would suit him even better and I felt he was primed for the Ayr Gold Cup on the Saturday, so I stepped in again. In all, I backed him to win more than £130,000, a new record for me.
The day itself was quite an occasion. We stayed at the Turnberry Hotel throughout the meeting and many hotel guests were invited for a drink in the box of the well-known ex-trainer Tony Collins, who had been an integral part of the Gay Future sting at Cartmel, a coup that is part of racing folklore. We’d decided to watch the big race from the balcony, but I’d told the troops that I wanted no shouting, as I was increasingly keen to keep my business under wraps. Silence prevailed until the two-furlong pole, when Captain Green was unable to restrain himself from yelling “Come on Kieren!”
Martin’s vocal support proved the trigger for the rest of the troops to start shouting for Grangeville, and the noise from the balcony must have accounted for half that on the whole racecourse, as the horse we had all supported held on after leading a furlong out. It was a fantastic result, but even as we celebrated I knew I’d have to work a lot harder on crowd control. Major McClymont was slightly embarrassed by the loudness of the group after one of the few other people on the balcony had said a quiet ‘well done’ and pointed out that he owned the runner-up, Evening Promise.
Bomb Alaska looked like he’d been laid out for the Ayrshire Handicap but finished second, costing me £12,616.75. It was a race I would become familiar with, as it would be 2002 before the race was next won by a horse I didn’t own. We stayed at the Turnberry that night and after dinner had an ‘audience’ with the great Peter Easterby. We managed to get him talking at length about his days training top-class jumpers Night Nurse, Sea Pigeon and Alverton, and it was a great end to a memorable week.
Weekly total: £152,438.15
Running profit: £747,550.14
* * *
Sunday, September 19 was a day for reflection. After half a year’s betting, I’d gone from needing rapid loans to a profit of almost three-quarters of a million. For the first four months of the season I’d worked harder than I’d known was possible, and the pace had still been tough after that. Now it was time to relax. I needed to bring my mind back to a normal state and introduce some balance into my life.
I’d completed the first and most important phase of my comeback. In reality, I’d started my life again, and was not the most level-headed person at the time. My relationship with Kryssy soon came to an end after I declined her suggestion that she move in with me, a decision I swiftly regretted. Our parting was a heavy blow, and there were a number of evenings when friends were under firm orders to help me drown my sorrows. It was suddenly clear to me that life wasn’t as easy as I’d begun to believe, and it would take a little longer before I managed to find the perfect blend of a lifestyle that fitted in comfortably with the strains of making my fortune by gambling.
I continued working until the end of the Flat turf season, but at a vastly reduced level, and even enjoyed some time off. When the turf season ended, I just kept the betting ticking over when I received a strong message for a horse on the all-weather, or for the very occasional jumper. I did have a few losing weeks, but the figures below don’t show them. As the amount of business was much smaller, I tended to wait until I was in profit before balancing them. Permit me this minor indulgence!
At the time, I didn’t know whether this level of profitability could be achieved again, as the workload wasn’t sustainable over a longer term. Fortunately, I became wiser as a punter and delegated as much of the background work as possible. In time, I would create an office structure in which only the studying of videos and form would be my responsibility. Research would be delegated or computerised, and dealing with agents and almost all aspects of trading would be handled by my team.
As it turned out, I was to smash this profit figure in the future, with two consecutive years when I broke the £2m barrier. I enjoyed it all, but none of it would ever give me quite the satisfaction of my comeback in 1999.
19 September – 31 December 1999 |
|
Two weeks ending 3 October: |
+£60.80 |
Two weeks ending 17 October: |
+£19,190.70 |
Three weeks ending 6 November: |
+£31,762.87 |
Four weeks ending 4 December: |
+£10,581.93 |
Four weeks ending 31 December: |
+£5,789.25 |
TOTAL 1999 PROFIT/LOSS |
+£814,935.69 |