I’m a creature of habit.
A praying mantis. I have a triangle shaped head and two bugling eyes. That’s me, scouring Betfair looking for a chance to make a layer suffer, an attack which takes milliseconds. I cut them down, steal their money and leave them to perish.
Compare this to me wandering around Great Yarmouth racecourse licking a 99 on a hot summer’s day.
Being away from the office can prove troublesome for a professional gambler.
I always find it difficult to enjoy a day at the races because there is too much happening akin to a sensory overload. I have the latest technology at hand to bet and win but it’s not the same. In fact, I’ve often had a day at Great Yarmouth with my family and friends then struggled to be the efficient purposeful gambler I am at home. You wouldn’t think it would be a problem. However, I need room to extend my raptorial legs, grasping my victim with my forelegs before eating them alive with my powerful jaws.
Sorry, for a second I slipped back into the praying mantis role. The delight of the ambush.
It’s lovely to get to the course especially on a beautiful summer’s day. For many, Great Yarmouth is a tacky location but for the gambler it is a slightly less daunting experience than Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas. Joking aside, it has a lot to offer the debauched gambler. Thinking about it, I’m not sure if debauched covers gambling (rather sex, alcohol or drugs). Anyway, the gambling is enough to attract punters of every shape, form and fetish. I’ve had many a happy holiday at this Norfolk coastline.
I’ve even met Lowestoft professional gambler Jerry Banks at Jellicoe Road. A quick drink in the Troll Cart or The Feathers on Market Gate and taxi to the course.
When outside the home setting, I try to be even more professional in preparation for a day out. I’ll spend even longer the evening before assessing the races. Doing all the groundwork I can to keep up to speed. I have my iPhone ready and charged. Hand written notes detailing specific race times and my insider guides to keep me on the right path. I even try to consume little to no alcohol. However, the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. I wonder if Robert Burns turned into a praying mantis when he wrote that quote (at home in his office).
I often feel I’m tempting fate when I go to the races. As these arrangements are made in advance of the race declarations I am almost holding my breath when I look at the meetings. I say races because I specialise in two-year-old horse racing so my interests will be across a few cards. In fact, the last ten times I’ve been to Great Yarmouth I haven’t bet on course. My ideal is to go to the races and it’s one of those rare days when there isn’t a two-year-old race across the cards.
I don’t think that’s happened either so I’m always distracted keeping an eye on the betting and feeling if there is a bet it will turn ugly. Don’t bet and I’m tempting fate with a possible winner going awry. A distinct feeling of pessimism because the preparation simply isn’t the same as being at home in a quiet room, headphones on and ultimate focus.
What do you do?
I remember a terrible event years ago on a horse making its debut at Ayr. It coincided with a day at Great Yarmouth races. I was in two minds whether to go or not and it turned out to be a bad decision. We decided to stay the night as it was an evening fixture. My brother, Tony, hadn’t bothered to book a room and everywhere was full. We had to ask places with no vacancy signs in the window hoping to get lucky. After walking endlessly, we found somewhere which reminded me of an old peoples home. It was on the front. A small room. The toilet didn’t work. It really was a crap hole in every sense.
But back to the bet.
I had a 50/1 shot I fancied to go well. It was a debutante trained by Rae Guest for owner Ian Matthews. The horse was called Guillia. I placed a bet to win £800 and looked to bet more. With the decision to go to Great Yarmouth I had the brainwave to cancel the bet (laid it off to a small win or no loss) which turned out to be the worst idea I have ever had. I didn’t have Betfair on my phone so the only option left was to bet on course. For whatever reason I didn’t do this either. I must have been distracted by the day. I had a bad feeling about the whole situation from travelling three hours to get to the coast, looking for a hotel room for an hour or so and I just wasn’t feeling it at all. At Yarmouth racecourse my brother and I watched the Ayr race (why the hell I didn’t have a few quid on at 50/1 I will never know) only to see Guillia win well.
Desperation.
It was truly one of those moment when I just wanted to be at home. I knew if I had been there with my laptop and Betfair I’d have won a couple of grand.
I said to Tony: ‘Let’s go back to the hotel.’
On arriving the lady on reception, being polite, asked how we got on at the races and had we bet on any winners!
She wasn’t to know how the day had panned out but the look on my face must have said a thousand words.
You can understand why betting away from the office comes hard. In fact, I have missed a good few winners trying to enjoy a day at the races. I’m sure somewhere along the line I’m making things more difficult than they need be.
I guess that’s what happens when you have an exacting nature.
Sometimes you just need to say a little prayer and hold on tightly making sure those layers can see your bulging eyes.