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I have had my share of big winners at Donny, and I have come to believe that if I can find the Lincoln winner or have a decent winner at the meeting it is a bellwether for the rest of the season, rather like atmospheric conditions on St Swithun’s Day.
One of the more salutatory and educative experiences of my wagering career happened on the second day of the Lincoln a few years ago. I was on my way to work one Sunday when I decided to buy a Racing Post for the train journey and have trawl through the form. I found a horse called Colonel Mak who seemed to be a little well in, with an apprentice jockey claiming five precious pounds.
I did not even look at the newspaper odds for it, nor even the card. I think consulting the Racing Post’s Spotlight entries – an opinion on each runner – is a sign of weakness.
I looked at my watch. The race started at 3.20 and the train had just left Clapham Junction. It was 3.14. I needed to get off the train at Victoria, through the barriers and into the betting shop with great sharpness. I had about £50 on me. £25 each way. There was a Ladbrokes just the other side of the ticket barriers. As I walked forward on the train, I started to get a strong feeling about Colonel Mak.
At 3.18 the train pulled in. At 3.19 the doors opened. I ran. 20 seconds wasted at the barrier behind passengers who could not make their Oyster cards work. As I rushed into the betting shop I heard the announcer, and knew the race had started. No chance to get the bet on.
The form-book entry must tell the tale:
‘Chased leaders, ridden to lead over 1f out, ran on well’
He won it by 1¾ lengths, beating the other 21 horses easily.
Anyone who punts on the turf knows that feeling just after a race in a betting shop when things have not gone well. For everyone else it seems it is business as usual. Other players move around the shop evaluating the next race of dogs or horses, as oblivious to your travails as goldfish in a bowl. One feels like yelling: ‘How can you just act like nothing has happened, you bastards!’
But worse was to come. I had no idea of Colonel Mak’s odds. I had assumed he would be in the first four or five in the betting, which in a huge field like that would perhaps be 12/1. So my lamentations were only increased when the announcer said: ‘First, number 4, Colonel Mak. A massive price at 33/1. Well done if any of you found that.’
But I did! I did! I DID, you b*stards!
