Beat that on Belgium if you can

The traditional response to the defeat of a 'big team' by a 'little team' is to reprise the famous Norwegian commentary; Maggie Thatcher, Winston Churchill etc, your boys took one hell of a beating.
I was struck that this reaction was unusually absent from social media after the giant killing of Belgium by Wales. Wondering why it occurred to me that actually the old joke about the difficulty of naming 5 Belgians was true. The Norwegian commentary could not be done because noone could fill a tweet of 140 characters with a list of Belgians that people would have heard of.
Unable to resist a challenge, I decided overnight to give it it a go. After 8 hours extensive research here is my commentary-

"Georges Prosper Remi*, Tintin, Snowy**, Plastic Bertrand (sadly French), Stella Artois (counts as two), Jean Claude Juncker (nope, from Luxembourg), Jeanne-Claude Van Damme, the Belgian Prime Minister (err, they still do not have one), Marouane Fellaini (disallowed as was playing and therefore could not be one of 'your boys'), Hercule Poirot.  Your Boys Took One Hell of a Beating."

Obviously 3 were fictional characters, and 2 were actually a beer but not a bad effort. See if you can do better.

*Herge
**Tintin's dog

Sit-Com Gold on the Big Screen

The latest TV comedy to be turned into a film is Absolutely Fabulous. I never found 'AbFab' particularly funny. More over-acting than comedy but each to his own of course.
It did start me thinking about the other TV sitcoms turned into films. The first I ever saw was On The Buses, where Stan (Reg Varney), Blakey, Jack, the miserable bald bloke who drove a motor-bike sidecar and his plain (is that ok?) wife, Olive, et al decamped from the bus garage to a holiday camp. My memories are vague now but I think the highlight was Stan blowing up the chalet when he dropped a fag in the toilet, which for reasons I cannot now remember had recently had a load of paraffin emptied into it. Inevitably Blakey was singed and, wait for it, said "I'll get you Butler." 
The film was pretty awful, but there again watching repeats of the original on ITV 4, reminded me that the TV series was terrible as well - and it proved that my mum was right about Stan and Jack's terrible table manners. Actually On The Buses was at its funniest in the take off by Paul Whitehouse and Harry Enfield.
Next was Porridge, and its film was pretty good. It can still make you laugh on a wet Sunday afternoon. The first Dad's Army was weak, nothing like as good as the peerless TV sit-com. At least though it was better than the truly awful film remake which came out earlier this year.
Monty Python was not my thing anyway, and I confess - shock, horror - I have never seen Life of Brian.
Are You Being Served still makes me smile, in an admittedly slightly dated politically incorrect way, and its feature film spin-off really (yes really) was not bad.
More recently the Inbetweeners films were rather good, although uncomfortable to watch with your teenage children.
Could it be that the Absolutely Fabulous film is better than the TV series? I have fond memories of Joanna Lumley from The New Avengers so might have to find out.

Sid Waddell, the Lager Socialist

For many years I put Sid Waddell, darts commentator, in the same bracket as Dickie Bird, cricket umpire. Both on occasions got more attention than the sportsmen. The best umpire should not be noticed, and Dickie gave me the impression that he wanted to be the centre of attention. Likewise I wondered whether Waddell's allusions to Shakespeare, Greek mythology, the planets and so on were really just him showing off how clever he was. Peak Waddell saw Stephen Fry join him in the commentary box for a stint , with me at least wondering who was really laughing at who.

I needed a break from in/out, Levae/Remain, political insults and 24 hour rolling news on a PM resigning and a Leader of the Opposition not resigning so decided to give Dan Waddell's biography of his dad, 'We had some laughs',  a go.

What I found was an affectionate account, but by no means a hagiography. Sidney was obviously not the easiest person to live or work with. He was egotistic, could be boorish, held grudges and was often insecure. 

Dan's writing flows and the best bits are really funny. Sid really did love and admire the darts players, and felt it was his duty to chronicle these working class heroes.

I was startled to learn that Sid's first attempt at fame was as a writer of soft porn novels. He created Bedroll Bella, who was a female version of the character played by Robin Askwith in the Confessions series (which obviously as a teenager I never watched or read). The book was published and Sid had high hopes of it being the first in a series. Sadly - for him although probably not for the wider literary world - Bedroll Bella was a victim of Mary Whitehouse, with both WH Smith and John Menzies refusing to stock it, as a result of her (that is Mary's not Bella's) Festival of Light Campaign. That was Sid's story anyway, but his son suggests that the flop may have been because the book was not very good - 'with a plot as skimpy as Bella's knickers.' 

Waddell senior though remained proud of Bedroll Bella until his dying day, believing that he was the first fiction writer to employ the term 'vinegar stroke.'

Sid definitely did create the show The Indoor League, which I can remember watching on lunchtime TV in the 1970's when I should have been studying for exams. It was introduced from the Leeds Irish Club by Fred Trueman, pipe in one hand and pint in the other, with the catchphrase on the approach to the commercial break of "Aye'll sithee"*.

The sports featured included shove ha'penny, arm wrestling, pool, table football, cheese skittles, table skittles and bar billiards. It was the darts though that provided the best telly, enhanced by Sid ensuring that all the players were given unlimited free booze. The best darter was the Welshman, Alan Evans, 'the Cochise of the concentric rings' as Sid described him. Most of the darts players on the Indoor League were recruited fairly randomly from the pubs of Yorkshire, and were pretty crap. Evans genius therefore stood out even more, with in his case the free beer helping. Sid reported that Evans drinking number was 8, the number of pints he need to be at his most accurate.

As darts boomed, with coverage of the world championship on prime-time BBC, the Darts authorities became more sensitive about the sport's image. The Fat Belly / Even Fatter Belly sketch on Not the Nine O'clock News, where Oxbridge educated middle class comedians poked fun at the excesses of the working class arrow throwers, meant Sidney (also Oxbridge educated but from a very different background) had to employ euphemisms to describe the drinking. When the great Jocky Wilson was missing the board because he was drunk, he was guilty of 'over preparation. 

Sid loved going to the pub, and had firm ideas on pub etiquette. 

1. Most important - buy your round

2. If you were drinking quicker than others don't tap the table and break the rhythm of others. Instead buy yourself an 'inbetweener.'

3. (in contrast to 2.) Nor nurse your drink. If others were ready and it was your round, you buy it.

4. Never jump the queue at the bar.

5. Never hold others up by paying in any other way than in cash.

6. If you were pissed, go home. 

Not surprisingly given his background Sid's politics were to the left. When one of his drinking partners started using the Pudsey Conservative Club Sid declared he would only enter the building in order to lay dynamite under it. Dan though suggests this may have been for effect, and that when sober he was more apolitical than revolutionary. He describes his dad as a 'lager socialist' in that his views grew more left wing according to how much he drunk. Sober he was rumoured to vote Liberal Democrat!

There are many genuinely funny anecdotes in the book which certainly cheered me up at this tense time for our country. Sadly though there is one occasion where Dan is reduced to toilet humour. Sid's fame was spreading and as a result he started doing celebrity commentating gigs. One was for a local cricket club charity day, 'highlight' of which was a competition to guess where a donkey had a crap (as I said not funny). The donkey did not arrive but an enterprising club member replaced him with a horse. The cricket pitch had been divided into squares and people paid for one. The square in which the horse took a dump was the winning one.

Sid's role was to sit on a gantry above the club house and commentate on the event. Fuelled by many pints of Webster's Bitter Sid did his best to liven up the 'action'. Unfortunately the horse was constipated and took hours to defecate by which time everyone had given up and gone inside. Obviously I repeat not clever and not funny at all.

*Yorkshire for 'I will see you later'

So that's the reason

Pakistan are the visitors for the second half of the summer, and it will be a surprise if the latest renewal of the cricket rivalry between England and Pakistan does not involve controversy and even acrimony.
Probably because Javed Miandad and Imran Khan played for Sussex I have always had a soft spot for the Pakistan team, despite all the rancour. As a teenager I admired the batting of  Zaheer Abbas and the fashion sense of Asif Iqbal. Maybe my memory is playing tricks but I am fairly sure it was Asif who wore flared cricket trousers when batting for Kent in the Benson and Hedges Cup Final (the halcyon days of tobacco sponsorship).
The widespread popularity of Pakistani cricketers in county cricket did not though dampen the ill feeling between the national sides at test level. Javed would fight anyone, 'Surian' (Beefy) Botham famously declared he wouldn't even send his mother-in law to Pakistan. Imran had a noble and lofty Pathan disdain for the English batsmen.
Mike Gatting, President of the MCC despite leading a rebel tour to apartheid South Africa, abused the Pakistani umpire Shakoor Rana on the field of play, jabbing his finger in his face and accusing him of cheating.
Two great Pakistani bowlers, Waqar Younis and Wasim Akram, invented reverse swing but were openly accused by 'Beefy' and the South African English batsman Alan 'Legga' Lamb of ball tampering. This controversy even led to a ludicrous libel action in the courts which did not reflect well on any of the parties involved.
Ball tampering allegations surfaced again under the captaincy Inzamam-ul-Haq, who took umbrage at being deducted runs by umpire Darrell Hair and led the Pakistan team off the pitch in protest.
Finally the last tour was blighted by the match fixing allegations which have dogged some members of the Pakistan team over the years. In truth it was 'spot fixing' (fixing an individual event within a game) rather than actually throwing the whole match, but those Pakistani cricketers involved were deservedly prosecuted and sent to prison for their corrupt behaviour.
I had always assumed that part of the reason for the rancour was an overhang from colonisation. Understandably the Pakistanis would want to get one over their former 'masters' in the great game of cricket that had been introduced by the English. However it still did not offer a full explanation as both India and the West Indies had similar imperialist issues but the ill-feeling did not seep onto the cricket field in the same way.
It occurred to me that perhaps it could be religion. After all Islamist terror has resulted in the Pakistani team having to play their 'home' tests in Dubai and Abu Dhabi, and perhaps the culture clash was greater than with former colonies which had a more relaxed attitude to such issues.
It was only when I read the obituary of Donald Carr that I came to see that there might be a more simple explanation. Carr was steeped in the English cricket establishment, captaining the 'Public Schools' Eleven', managing MCC tours, 'probably' taking the minutes at the 1968 meeting where Basil D'Oliveria was not selected for the England team to tour South Africa and then being appointed Secretary of the Test and County Cricket Board. 
The startling revelation for me though was his involvement in an incident when he captained the MCC (England) team which toured Pakistan in 1956. The England players disguised themselves in masks and kidnapped the Pakistani umpire Idris Baig, because they disagreed with some of his decisions. Mr Baig was taken by force to the England team hotel where he was doused in water and then released. As captain of those responsible for this crime Carr felt it was simply high jinks and a prank, and received a lengthy 'telling-off' for his part.
Obviously it is sometimes a mistake to judge events of a previous era by the standards of today, but it still seems extraordinary that the kidnapping and humiliation of a Pakistani umpire by the English cricket team could simply be explained away as a 'ragging' brought on by 'high spirits.'
Having learnt this history I can now sympathise with any Pakistani cricketer being pretty keen to do all he could  - within the rules - to beat England.


  

After much research I'm still not sure if backing a loser is worse than not backing a winner

Being fortunate enough to have had a couple of holidays lately has given me some time to do some important research. No not a detailed study of the economic benefits of remaining or leaving the EU, but something far more important; how to be successful at gambling.
I have read two highly entertaining books on how small groups of ultra intelligent math students have managed to make $millions by a combination of card counting and card spotting on blackjack in casinos. This confirmed to me that it is impossible for 99.99% of casino players to do anything but lose. Unless you are a mathematical genius, and somewhat socially dysfunctional with it, forget casinos as a source of profit.
In betting 'inside' information can help. If you have connections with a stable then you may hear when a horse is 'fit and ready' and place a bet accordingly. Close links to a lower, or non-league, football club might lead you to hear that the star player is ill/hungover/fed up and therefore the odds on the opponents for the next match are a touch generous.
Unfortunately most of us are not best mates with a trainer, and do not have a direct line to the treatment table at Kettering Town*.
You could therefore try a tipster.The newspaper ones all have their moments but if you follow their tips blind, you will make a loss. Partly this again is a result of inside, or at least early, information. Unless you get the tip before everyone else any chance of getting a decent price is long gone. Rob Wright (The Times) and Tom Segal (Pricewise of the Racing Post) clearly know their stuff, and indeed often tip up the same horses. The trouble for us 'civilians' is that the bookies then cut the prices of the horses they tip, taking away any of the value in utilising their expertise.
The only way to get the inside track from a tipster is to pay for it. There are many of these 'experts' offering such services for a fee, and again some do seem to report year on year profits. I still though remain dubious. Ultimately if the tipster is so good you have to ask why they do not simply back the horses themselves and take the profits direct, rather than sharing it with others for a fee? Admittedly my take on tipping services is somewhat jaundiced, having never got over witnessing one well-known tipster in a Hove bookies answering a call from a client. The tipster walked over to the runners displayed on the wall and picked a horse at random, declaring this nag the nap of the day.
My conclusion after much sunny reflection is that the only way to get an edge is the Gary Player route; "it's funny, the more I practice the luckier I get." For me it involves watching races and spotting horses which I think will run well next time.
I use horse tracking software to highlight the horse and should then receive notification overnight of when the horse is due to run again. Since February I have received 10 such notifications. I backed 8 of them. Of these 7 have lost, and one returned a small (each way) profit having come third. The two I did not back were Butney Island (completely missed the notification - won at 28/1 at Newton Abbott)  and Chelsea's Boy (away abroad and no Internet - won at 8/1 at Goodwood last Friday).
Tonight at Brighton Quickaswecan runs at an advertised 16/1 and has been highlighted by my tracker. Looking at the form I am not convinced. The dilemma is that I'm not sure whether backing him and losing will be worse than not doing so and reading tomorrow that he won.

*A club chosen totally randomly because I once saw them play on a romantic weekend away (well it was for me) in the West Midlands 

Horse tracking software reminds me that there is only one thing worse than backing a loser

Fontwell Park racecourse's "Family Fun Day" last Sunday attracted a crowd of almost 10,000. Considerably more than went to the third day of the second test match between England and Sri Lanka at Chester-le-Street.
Obviously the weather helped. It was a glorious late spring day in West Sussex, whereas in Durham it was grey, overcast and wintry (i.e. normal for the north east in May).
Even allowing for the 'hilarious' folk who go to the test dressed as monks, Star Wars characters, Wizard of Oz lookalikes and in various other modes of fancy dress, it is fair to conclude that most of the people in the crowd are actually cricket fans and have at least a passing interest in the sport.
Family fun days at the races are a different thing. The families seem to be attracted by the face painting, the fairground rides, the ice cream and the bars; the racing is just incidental.
Fair enough I suppose, if it gets the youngsters and the drunks interested in our great sport maybe it is worth it, but - as the Englishwoman who went to Syria to fight for ISIS told us on her return to these shores - it is just "not really my cup of tea". 
There are only so many times you can simply shrug as you fail to get your bet on because the bookie is having to patiently explain to the woman in front of you in the queue (sorry my feminist friends, it is nearly always a woman) that £1 each way costs £2 rather than a £1, and it probably is not a good idea to have an each way bet on the 5/4 favourite in any case.
Judging by the reports from my pals at Wednesday's Fontwell meeting it was a good thing I gave the Sunday fixture a swerve. The racing was ok but Fontwell itself could not cope with the large crowd. I'm told it was impossible to get a drink, difficult to have a bet and the sun was so strong that my head would have got burnt.
Far better to go to a lower key midweek meeting, in greyish weather, not get your face painted and actually watch the racing.
The first race on Wednesday reminded me of a very painful experience. The reader of this blog will be aware that I use 'tracker' software to alert me via email of a horse I have noted in a previous race and might want to back in its future races. I am quite selective (generally) how I use it, and I only 'track' horses that I think might improve significantly in their future races. I have done alright using it, but probably only just broke even from the bets I have made as a result. This could have been so different. One of my 'spots' was a horse called Butney Island who I had noticed ran rather well at Plumpton in the winter, having been dropped out and 'tenderly' ridden. The comment I had made when highlighting him was along the lines of 'ran far better than its finishing position suggested, back in its next 3 races if going is firmer.'
In May I duly got an email alerting me to the fact that Butney Island was due to run at Newton Abbot the following day. Unfortunately I was supposed to be enjoying some Spanish sun in Majorca. I was actually in Majorca but it was not sunny, and the wifi in the hotel would not let me access any of my bookmaker accounts. "Oh well", I thought, "there does not seem to me much confidence from connections, it probably will not matter."
Back in the UK two days later I checked the results to discover that Butney Island had won at 28/1. The trainer had explained the improvement to the stewards as "he liked the firmer going."
After that I could not bring myself to back Butney Island again, which probably was good thing, as he finished a very tired 3rd (heh, heh - but no I am not bitter).
It was good to see a tanned and healthy, if not exactly a jockey's weight, Paul Nicholls at Fontwell. After his epic battle with Willie Mullins for the trainer's championship last year, Nicholls is clearly determined to do everything to retain his crown - including entering decentish horses at Fontwell in June. Keep an eye on all his horses through the summer, as I suspect he is on a mission.
He would have had a double if it were not for the fact that even more remarkably Fontwell in June had attracted a mare who had come 4th to the great Vroom Vroom Mag at this year's Cheltenham Festival. Neil Mulholland (a trainer to watch) had clearly sorted out Pass The Times' jumping problems, and she was an impressive winner of the improbably named Shoreham Port Novices' Steeplechase.
Highlight of the day for me though - and not just because I had backed him - was Andrew Thornton's 993'rd career winner. Lensio*, as he is known, is clearly determined to keep riding until he achieves 1,000 successes. He is old for a jump jockey but remains an excellent 'horseman'. That term can almost be an insult in racing circles. It hints that a jockey is not the most stylish or strongest. Thornton does perhaps, no just does, ride with his legs further down the sides of the horse than his younger colleagues. The result of that though is he falls off less often. In this race Kentford Heiress travelled really well throughout, something horses tend to do under Lensio, and managed to hang on in the tightest of finishes to win by a nose, after running for over 3 miles.
I am off on holiday again next week to Montenegro (seemed a good idea at the time). It means I will miss Fontwell's final meeting before the summer break, and I suspect it may be even harder to get a bet on in a former Yugoslav republic than in Spain when my horse tracker software alerts me to the next long priced winner. Not backing a winner is so much worse.

NB It's The Derby and Oaks before I go. My bets - Minding for the Oaks. Boring I know but I'll be backing her at any price above evens. The Derby though is a different matter. My selection is the Aidan O'Brien 3rd, 4th, or maybe even 5th string, Port Douglas. Each way at 20/1 with Corals.

*He can't see all that well and is one of the few jockeys who wears contact lenses

No socks to win - and Ryan doubles up

Brighton on Friday for Best Dressed Gentleman's Day. I decided not to enter the actual competition as I wanted to give all the other male racegoers a chance.

For future reference though, my suggestion is that if you to want to win it you are best to include at least two of the following-

• a moustache that twirls - or at least can be waxed,
• tweeds,
• red trousers,
• a bright blue suit cut very tight
• no socks (and trousers short enough for the judges to see you have no socks),
• and/or slip on shoes with tassels*.

My reason for going though was not this frippery but to see Brighton's greatest ever sportsman, Ryan Moore (sorry Steve), ride his home track for the first times in two years. Ryan had 4 rides, and managed a double. 

Remarkably the reigning champion jockey, Sylvester de Sousa, also turned up and bagged a pair as well.
Charlie Miller, Brighton's loudest bookie, gave his usual sound tipping advice in the paddock. It was good to see Charlie looking so well after his 'massive' (obviously Chas could not have had a small one) heart attack last year.
The only disappointment was to find that George Baker (the horse), trained by George Baker (the trainer), owned by George Baker and partners (the owners) and running in the 6th race, was not ridden by George Baker. Sadly George Baker (the jockey) was otherwise engaged. If not ,maybe George Baker (the horse) would have done better than 4th. 

*I'm advised they are called loafers.

Her Majesty's Coup Failed (sadly)

Yes it was pretty low grade low grade stuff but there were at least lots of runners at Lingfield today. There was even a sprint handicap which paid e/w terms the first 4 home.
For me though the highlight was an attempt by Her Majesty the Queen to do something I have always dreamed of - stage a betting coup.
Okay I admit I did not see her racing manager - Lord Carnarvon last time I checked - going down the line in the betting jungle having lumps on, but I can't help thinking that a few Palace pounds were somehow invested in the last.
The Queen had two runners at Leafy today. The first was Bonhomie in the 2.50. Trained by Michael Bell, she (the filly, not HM) seemed to me to have a reasonable chance. Bonhemie had run creditably in her 3 maidens, and was weighted about right for her handicap debut. She was favourite in the morning but there was little money in the ring for her, and she duly ran okay, finishing a respectable 3rd, without ever looking like winning. As this pic shows HM was not in the winner's enclosure to collect the place money, which suggests she knew.

It was though wholly different for the 5.35. Trainer Roger Charlton had charted an altogther different course for Final Choice. He (First Choice) had run 3 times as a 2 year old and basically been .... well .... useless. Over the winter however poor old first First Choice had been gelded; something which apparently it is suggested makes male horses concentrate on the task in hand (so to speak).
Word round the track was that Mr Charlton was doing a Sir Mark (as in Prescott) i.e. running a horse 3 times over an inadequate distance in order to obtain a (lowish) handicap mark before then entering the horse in a much more suitable longer race. My golfing friends tell me this is the equivalent of a 'bandit.' The rules have been tightened to stop this but not entirely successfully. As Ron Wood in the Racing Post suggested "Roger Charlton's runner didn't show much last year ...... but it will be a surprise if he does not improve up in trip."
The money certainly came. Even allowing for the tips in the trade papers Final Choice opened 11/2 on course, but was 7/2 (3/1) in places by the off. Some serious investments.
Sadly the cash stayed in the bookies' satchels, rather than heading back up the M23 to Windsor Castle. Final Choice proved to be no better over a middle distance than he had been over shorter trips. Even the unkindest cut of all had not persuaded him to win.
Still at least his connections gave it a go. God Save the Queen.

Stewards' Enquiry, Stewards' Enquiry - it's suddenly become more interesting

There is something about the bell sounding, the slight delay, and then the public address monotone "Stewards' Enquiry, Stewards' Enquiry, Please retain all betting slips until the result is announced" that still, after all these years, excites me.
It may even be getting better because it appears that the stewards are suddenly more willing to act. For some while in UK racing it was almost impossible to get a result overturned. The offending jockey would get a holiday ban, but no matter how much interference had been caused the first past the post would generally keep the race.
At last though I detect a change. On my last jaunt to Lingfield there was one occurrence that gave me an inkling that the central guidance may have been revised. 
In the 15.40 on Thursday 19 May I was just an interested observer. It was a 'no bet' race for me as I could not separate the first two in the betting, but I did hope that Ayr of Elegance would win because I have always had a soft spot for his trainer, Philip Hide. I thought he was an underrated jockey, and I am hearing good reports about how hard he works in his new role as one of the less well known trainers in this part of the world.
I watched the finish from a spot level with the line and was convinced that Ayr of Elegance had won. Then I watched the replay twice more and was still convinced Ayr of Elegance had passed the post first. But when the the judge announced the result, it was market rival Onorina who was deemed to have finished first. 
30 seconds later the klaxon sounded. It was a 'stewards'. Name drop alert I watched my 3rd, 4th and 5th replay with Tony Ennis (Enzo to us mates), the commentator, who admitted that he had also thought Ayr of Elegance had got up. Mr Ennis also confidently declared that the result would be overturned. 'No way' I suggested. Any interference was 50/50 to me, and - err hmm Mr Ennis you should know this - the English stewards are far more robust than their weedy French and American counterparts. Race riding is part of the game. Man up.
Well of course it turned out I got both the photo and the stewards' wrong. Fair play to Enzo, Ayr of Elegance was awarded the race. Conduct your own enquiry by looking at the replay here.
And it appears this was not an isolated incident for the following day at Goodwood a race was awarded to the third the past the post. In fairness to the stipendiary steward he made a decent effort at explaining why, although the great Steve Mellish was not entirely convinced.
Again play at being a steward for a day here.
Is a pattern developing? Yes I think there maybe. I do hope there is a televised enquiry at Royal Ascot next month. It could be really interesting (for us stewards' enquiry junkies anyway).

-------------------------

Gene tests no way. After his defeat in the Irish 2000 Guineas I still think Galileo Gold would have a very good chance of winning the Derby if entered. Come on Hugo Palmer give it a go.

Costly day's racing at increasingly wonderful Brighton saved by Lewis Dunk

My - purely platonic obviously - love affair with Brighton racecourse just grows and grows. It used to be a dump, and it still has to struggle with vandalism, its location in a 'liberal' city which is not exactly enthusiastic about horse racing, logistical difficulties in watering, buildings inspired by the worst period of local council design, and two roads (Wilson Avenue and Manor Hill) crossing the track.

Despite all this, and mainly owing to the determined efforts of the current management, it offers a friendly welcome that many of the grade 1 and 2 tracks lack, and its quirkiness even suits some decent horses from high profile stables.
After a week away in Magaluf, where the weather was a continuation of this English winter, I finally got a chance to go racing again yesterday (Monday) at the great Ian Carnaby's favourite racing location.
Remarkably the going report had the word 'firm'. Indeed after 6 hours sun and wind, the going was changed after the second race from 'good - good to firm in places' to 'good to firm' for the whole course.
Trainers represented at Monday's meeting included Sir Mark Prescott (bt), Richard Hannon, William Haggas, Roger Charlton and Brian Meehan. The 4th race was won cosily by Paling, owned by one Prince Khalid Abdullah. I was shocked to see that the Prince did not turn up in person to receive his prestigious trophy. Instead the printed bit of of paper with the words 'winner' on it was collected by trainer Roger Charlton's 18 year son, who I am sure will pass said piece of paper to his Highness.
Mick Channon also had a runner, and I noticed Mick's son posing for photographs with a bunch of 'lads' which included an equally famous footballer, Chris Waddle. You would have been forgiven for missing Chris. His mullet is gone but unlike Mick he has not gone bald. Instead he now has a slicked back brylcream style haircut reminiscent of that sported by goalies in the 1920's and '30's. Mr Waddle was enjoying himself with the Winner Group, which seemed to involve drinking pints of some kind deep purple liquid (nope, me neither).
Other highlights for me included visiting the winner's enclosure after the first race. The man next to me was very animated as the trainer Richard Spencer threw water over the second, Sir Theodore, who had just failed to overhaul the winner Al Sailiyah, in a close finish.
The victor's jockey, Pat Dobbs, has vast experience, while Sir Theodore was ridden by the appropriately named apprentice, Louis Steward (who had a 3lb weight allowance because of his inexperience).
Mr Animated was not impressed.
"Throw the f***ing water over the jockey. Not f***king strong enuff."
Me,
"Did you back the second?"
Mr Animated,
"Err well yeh."
The second race gave me the chance to test a well known racing theory. There were 3 runners, so the potential was there for 'the outsider of 3' to come off. It worked for me once in a race at Plumpton on an Easter bank holiday, but it is best to draw a veil over that as it turned out it was probably fixed. On all known form the favourite - Mister Sunshine - had to win. I had a soft spot for him in any case as he is trained by Clive Cox, who for obvious reasons I feel a certain affinity towards. My paddock inspection did though suggest he was vulnerable. Mister Sunshine was bucking like a bronco, and the syndicate who owned the third favourite, Secret Ballerina, were all there and smiling. I watched one of them have a lumpyish bet on their filly, and followed in. Secret Ballerina shortened from16's into 10/1, while the jolly drifted from 1/2 to 4/6.
I have to admit that I was quietly confident as Secret Ballerina led to the cutaway 2 furlongs out. Mister Sunshine had been pulling all the way, wanting to run far faster than jockey Adam Kirby considered wise. Surely he was using too much energy?
Well no. Secret Ballerina found nothing off the bridle, trailing in a distant last, whilst Mister Sunshine continued to pull Adam Kirby's arms out of their sockets whilst winning by an easy 5 lengths. I think he might win again!
All in all though a lovely sunny day, albeit punting wise with 4 losing bets a bit hard on the bank balance. I headed back into town to check the odds on the football in Paddy Power's. Sadly I feared (correctly) that Brighton's play-off campaign was doomed. Quick check on the first goalscorer odds though. Surprised to see Solly March (lame) quoted at 10/1 and Adam Chickson (plays for another team) 40/1. My final £40 went on Lewis Dunk, who looked to me to be overpriced. 
Happy days.

Doppelganger spotting in Magaluf

It is probably only me that does this so do bear with me. On a not exactly top of the range break to Majorca this week the weather has been more Bognor than Magaluf. Indeed I gather the temperature in Sussex has exceeded that in the Balearics by at least 5 degrees. With opportunities for sun bathing limited, it has been a case of getting maximum value from the all-inclusive buffet and bar, enduring the (illegally?) streamed coverage of the final championship games of the season alongside some fearsomely tattooed Middlesborough supporters, and giving celebrity names to my fellow guests.
Doppelgänger wise I have so far spotted-

• Jeremy Corbyn going big time for the rather limited vegetarian section in the dining hall, whilst bringing in his own almond milk to put on his corn flakes
• Rod Stewart, complete (remarkably) with age-appropriate wife and no young children
• Mary Berry putting chocolate sauce on a greasy donut
• Ray Winstone, wheezing somewhat and carrying a few additional pounds
• Someone who just had to be the dad of a recently retired local MP accompanied by the mother of the Barnacle (Oracle?) from Benidorm 
• Phil Tufnell smoking an 'oily' while sheltering from the rain (I may have got him mixed up with Jeremy Corbyn)

Hope to collect a few more over the next two days.

Update-

• Just spotted Mike Gatting in fetching green trunks struggling to get on a sunbed. That goatee still does not look right for the President of the MCC.

Megalala trumps the Albion

Poor old Fontwell boasted by twitter early last week that they had 143 declared runners at the five day stage for their meeting last Friday. The heavens then opened again, the going went from good to soft, to heavy to marsh like by the third race. Of those horses actually declared 24 did not run, with the going once again bordering on the unraceable - so much so that even some horses which prefer to 'get their toes in' were withdrawn by their connections.
Fontwell's loss is Brighton's gain though. Being on chalk downland, the racecourse above Whitehawk drains very well, which means they can provide good going even when it has been pretty wet. As a result their first fixture of the season boasts a healthy turnout, including dear old Megalala in the 6.50.
To describe Megalala as a veteran understates things. He is really an OAP, but he clearly prefers running to retirement. Aged 15, he is only 4 years younger than his jockey, but he is still racing with enthusiasm. Megalala won as recently as last October, and today's outing will be his 129th race. In fact he is so experienced that unlike virtually every other horse in training he does not need to be loaded into the starting stalls; he simply walks in of his own accord. If he wins tonight there will be quite a cheer. It may even be heard by Albion fans on their way to their crucial match against QPR at the Amex stadium only a mile away. Yes, for reasons most people will fail to understand Brighton racecourse have scheduled this meeting as an evening fixture, ensuring it clashes with the footie.
Much as I enjoy football, it's horse racing and Megalala for me - but I suspect I will be in a small minority.  
----------------------------------------------------
It was pretty chaotic before the start of racing. Cars everywhere, many trying to use the football park and ride which was still in operation at the course even though they were hosting a meeting. Buses got stuck but in the end it seemed to work itself out. As the course tweeted (ahem - to me as it happened) 'we knew we were up against it with the clash but it turned out to be a great day all round!' Perhaps it would have been better to have hosted an afternoon fixture and positively promoted the football link - enjoy an afternoon at the races and then watch Brighton beat the fancy dans from London in the evening. 
At least Brighton's decision to make their April fixture an evening one worked out more successfully than Sedgefield's. Their 'jumps' card predictably turned into a farce, with the low sun making it dangerous for the horses to actually jump. From what I could see of the handicap steeplechase (the low sun even impacted the TV pictures) it had been turned into a hairpin flat race as the horses negotiated a series of chicanes around the barriered off jumps.
Credit must go where it is due. Brighton racecourse makes a real effort to attract and keep customers, and other tracks with much more prestigious and naturally advantaged tracks could learn. The staff are polite and welcoming, there are plenty of them (some are even English!) and whilst I would not go to the races to have my dinner, I'm told by those that do that the food is good in the Silks restaurant. 
This year they even have a champagne bar, which if it had been open I could have visited after wins for Philip Hide's Black Caesar in the second, and Free to Roam (which seemed a certainty to me) in the sixth. The only downer was following Rob Wright's (of The Times) nap, which duly came nowhere, leaving him firmly rooted in the Aston Villa spot at the bottom of the Racing Post naps table.
Megalala duly walked into the stalls on his own and came straight back out pretty quickly. He seemed fairly 'solid' in the paddock

and just faded out of the places after leading one furlong out. I hope he wins once more before his retirement.
Mick Channon had another winner, and it's timely to remind ourselves what an incredible sporting career the former Southampton forward with the whirling arm celebration has had. He achieved 46 England caps, scoring 26 goals, and then retired from football only to reach the top again as a classic winning trainer of horses. Judging by his wins at Newmarket and Brighton in the last week he is doing well with all types of horses (and owners). It's clearly a family business as his son was in charge last night. I thought he was the spitting image of Channon senior, but that did not stop one punter saying "You're better looking than your dad."
"That's not difficult" replied a smiling Channon junior.

No racing for 10 days now as I'm off on a cheaper and grumpier version of The Trip, with an old friend on the canals of Venice Birmingham. While I'm away I hope Paul Nicholls beats Willie Mullins in the trainer's championships. We can't have the Irish winning everything.

Lightning strikes at the Craven, but one beer drinker was happy with his bonus

Having carefully consulted the dress code, I was all ready for my visit to the Headquarters of racing on the Rowley Mile at Newmarket. 'As a gentleman' I chose to wear formal smart trousers and smart formal shoes, and avoided the 'rarely seen' jeans and trainers. The rebel in me was put off by the weather, so did not breach the ban on swimwear or bare chests. I was forced to leave my 'Brexit You know it Makes Sense' tee-shirt at home for fear of falling foul of the 'common sense rules' on clothes with slogans.
The vastness of Newmarket is the first thing that strikes you on arrival. Despite all the recent rain, the gallops which make up the heath were still springy under feet. It is easy to understand why so many trainers are based here.
In recent years the prestige of the season opener, the Craven meeting, has dropped somewhat. The centrepiece are the trials for the first classics of the season, the 1000 and 2000 Guineas, but trainers have increasingly bypassed these races and chosen to go straight for the big races. 
The Jockey Club have tried to redress this by introducing more valuable sales races and handicaps, allowing gallops before racing which are visible to the public and are even commentated on, and returning the meeting to its original 3 day format. It's a shame that Channel 4 have still not reinstated their coverage, but this maybe an opportunity for ITV to prove their commitment to the sport next year.
Looking round the paddock before the first race most of the big owners were there - including Sheikh Hamdan and his large entourage of young princes, and the new kid on the block Sheik Fahad Al Thani from Qatar. Security was solid, if discreet, with muscular ex-Army types talking into their sleeves and scanning the horizon for threats secret-service style. Rumours that they are armed with more than just radio technology are obviously completely unfounded.
Sadly one well known owner, Sir Alex Ferguson, was missing, perhaps still recovering from his losing bet on the Masters.
The Craven Stakes, after which the meeting is known, took place in horrendous conditions. Just before the off there was the most enormous clap of thunder, coinciding with lightning striking the big screen and putting it, and the commentary service, out of action. 
It was dark, hailing and raining. The start was missed by most of the crowd. 
A man with binoculars shouted "I think they're off. No they're not. Oh yes here they come. Frankie's in front. It's 4. Baker."
Checking my drenched racecard I was able to establish that the Craven had been won by the tallest jockey in the world, George Baker. How he can ride at 9 stone when he is 6 feet tall is beyond me, and it is good to see him being rewarded for his daily super human self-denial. The replay shown between races an hour later with the restoration of power revealed that Baker's mount, Stormy Antarctic, beat the favourite, Foundation, rather easily. Foundation is the horse partly owned by Sir Alex, so his absence may have enabled trainer, John Gosden, and jockey, Frankie Dettori, to escape the traditional hair dryer treatment after an unexpected defeat.
A combination of the weather, the track conditions and the comparatively unfashionable nature of his trainer, Ed Walker, may have led bookmakers to underestimate the merits of the well named Stormy Antarctic's victory. If the going is still soft for the 2000 Guineas in 16 days time, then the 20/1 available represents a good value each way bet.
Ryan Moore has clearly replaced Lester Piggott as the punters' friend but we had to wait till the last for his first win of the day. The by now 'well refreshed' crowd in the Adnams Cask Bar were clearly on, but were also forced to queue in teeming rain to collect their money from some rather unhappy (haha), and very wet (snigger), bookies.

One happy man went out with half a pint of strong beer and returned even happier five minutes later waving his winnings and still holding what was by now a pint of rather less strong beer.
Spring has sprung. Happy days.

Newmarket - marks (out of 10)
Welcome/friendliness 8
Atmosphere 8
Betting ring (size, competitiveness) 9
Racecard (cost, quality) 7
Queues for the bar 9
Standard of racing 9
Viewing 7


Total (out of 70) 57

Punting success - lost (but get it back on Stormy Antarctic in The Guineas!)

Brexit the horse

While out for a walk last week I bumped into an old colleague.
"Hello Graham. Long time no see"
"Hi ......... Joe. Good to see you"
"So, how are you voting in this EU referendum?"
"Not entirely made up my mind yet but probably to stay in"
"On no. I'm firmly out. We (nods to wife) are even cutting short our holiday and coming back home early so we can vote"
"You can get a postal vote you know"
"No way don't trust them. The outs won't get counted"
"Really"
"Yes you know what the establishment is like. They'll do anything to win. If it's close the leave votes will go missing"
"Oh right"

I carried on, bought my Racing Post and opened it at page 22 to find an advert for a horse for sale. It was called Brexit. I've passed the details on to Joe.

Those Post National Blues

Is there a name for it? That maudling feeling I experience - whether I've won or lost - on the Sunday morning after the Grand National. The jumps season is effectively over. It's at least 6 months before those heroes, and following this year's Champion Hurdle, heroines are seen again.
Still this year's race provided a heart warming story to cheer us through the summer months. Most importantly all the horses and jockeys were safe and sound. The rain drenched ground probably helped in this respect, although it also did for my tip The Druids Nephew. He could not 'jump out of it' (basically he got stuck in the mud) and ended up being pulled up.
The winning horse, Rule The World, was cheered home by quite a few women, because apparently his name is the title of a Take That song. Remarkably it was the horse's first ever win in a steeplechase, ridden by a 19 year old jockey having his first ride in the National. Who needs to spend hours studying the form and watching the videos when being a woman of a certain age and having a crush on Robbie Williams provides the key to profits?
Whilst I could not have selected Rule the World even with unlimited devoted expert research, I was almost able to join in the cheers because the trainer is Mouse Morris. Son of Lord Killanin, the Irishman nobleman and President of the International Olympic Committee, Mouse has always been an entertaining character. Now in his mid-sixties he still sports an impressive (albeit now grey) mullet, and chainsmokes the gaspers. His training base is in Fethard, a small town in County Tipperary where I once spent a memorable evening with a bunch of local racing fans in the Chinese pub in the centre of the town.
Mouse had a shattering experience last year, when his son Tiffer was killed by carbon monoxide poisoning whilst travelling in Argentina. Most observers also thought Mouse's training career was in decline so the win must have been a real tonic. 
I had watched the National at Lingfield, where they managed to put on a good show* for the largish crowd. They started with shire horse racing. All a bit gimmicky for me as they 'sprint' for 4 furlongs. One jockey, Luke Morris, even managed to fall off which in hindsight is perhaps not all that surprising as he looked very small on these massively impressive steeds.
As usual the handicaps on the Lingfield card were tricky. It is easy to see why the bookmakers sponsor them; indeed calling the 13 runner second race the Bookies' Benefit Stakes would have been an apt title.
The maidens though offer opportunities. Unraced horses from top yards tend to start at short prices. There was money all morning for Musdam in the 4.50. Trained by Sir Michael Stoute, and ridden by Ryan Moore, it was always likely to be over bet. I fancied John Gosden's Dommersen, which had the advantage of the experience of a previous run. I could not believe the 5/1 price it opened at on course and steamed in (err I mean backed it accordingly). Remarkably - for me anyway - there was then a massive gamble on Dommersen which saw its price shrink into 5/4. I like to think it was sparked by my early wager but sadly I suspect not.

Ridden by Frankie Dettori - I knew it was him because he had his name on his socks - Dommersen held on to win, and there was no doubt that the advantage of a previous run made the critical difference. Musdam will win, but needs more time and experience.
Lingfield offers the opportunity to see these great jockeys up close, walking through the spectators on the way to and from the paddock and winners enclosure. Frankie is the most popular, and seemed very happy to stop and chat, sign and be 'selfied' (not by me obviously). The taciturn Ryan Moore gets less attention, but it is still a thrill for me to watch the man who is now widely regarded as the best jockey in the world at one of our local tracks. And even though the morning gamble on Musdam went west, he did the business by winning two of the 'impossible' handicaps.
Brighton's second best ever sportsman, Steve Ovett, was given the freedom of the city. I hope Ryan, undoubtedly Brighton's greatest ever sportsman, is given a similar honour one day.




And the post National blues were lifting by Sunday afternoon  -after all it's the Craven meeting on Wednesday.

*I did though wonder why they put the stalls in front of the big screen, partially obscuring the National for much of the crowd - (see pic below)

Time to test the Little Polveir theory for this year's Grand National

At this time of year I tried to avoid all my friends, work colleagues, acquaintances and neighbours for the fear of being asked, "Come on you know about racing, what's going to win the National?"
Over the years I have had a reasonable amount of success. An illicit bet on Red Rum as a 15 year old was probably the start of my life long fondness for racing (and yes, gambling). Party Politics, Maori Venture, Numbersixvalverde and most profitably of all, Royal Athlete, successfully carried the Cox pounds in the Grand National - and on at least one occasion enabled me to pay the gas bill. Of course there have been many more losers, none more painfully than Little Polveir, so much so that I am still scarred by it more than a quarter of a century later.
I backed this great little horse in 1988 at 33/1. He was going really well, leading the field, with only 5 fences left when his jockey, Tom Morgan, was 'unseated'; that's the official racing term anyway but to my ( admittedly back pocket influenced eyes) poor old Tom simply fell off.
Next year Little Polveir was back but there was no way I could see him winning as a 12 year old, having failed the previous year. Indeed his long term owners obviously thought the same as they sold him 2 months before the 1989 renewal for £15k.
Little Polveir proceeded to romp home under new jockey, Jimmy Frost, at an S/P of 28/1, clearly relieved to not be burdened by the pressure of shouldering my money. Tom Morgan duly fell off the favourite, Dixton House, at Becher's this time.
In the spirit of learning from your mistakes, admittedly 26 years later, my tip for the 2016 Grand National is The Druids Nephew. He fell last year, when in the lead, at the same fence as Little Polveir had done in 1988. Let's hope he can do a Little Polveir, stay on his feet, and win for us at best price 16/1.
My other advice is as follows-

• The quality of the horse in the Grand National has improved enormously in recent years. There are no, no-hopers, so if you fancy one at longer odds, back it.
• Rather than having an each-way wager, it is better to have two win bets.
• Do not be put off last year's winner, Many Clouds. He has easily the best chance of winning the race again since the golden days of the great Red Rum. 
• And whatever you do place your bet in the morning and TAKE THE PRICE. Our friends the bookies annually rip off once a year punters by reducing the prices of all the horses in the 45 minutes before the race. It's as shameless as a Panamanian tax haven so do not let them sell you short as well.

Good luck.

The sporting eyes of the world focus on the 8.10 at Harlow

OK it's the Masters (the only golf I can get vaguely interested in), the start of the cricket season (too cold surely) and the Grand National (much more my cup of tea) this week, but surely the eyes of the sporting world will be focused on the Tuesday Maiden Open Race scheduled for 8.10 at Harlow Greyhound Stadium this evening?
Hattie (Expect Nothing) is running in an open race away from her home track at Hove. Hopefully she will not get stuck in traffic on the M25 as Claude (her esteemed trainer) tells me 'she's got a chance if she gets out.' The distance is 415metres (shorter than the 515 she normally runs at Nevill Road) which might even suit her.
It's on Sky Channel 468. I just need to find somewhere to nervously watch it.

The key to winning is getting back quickly for tea

If you agree with me that it's much more fun reading about a punter's losing day, then for once on this blog you best stop reading now (oh how lovely it was to write that sentence). Normal service will of course be resumed soon but Fontwell yesterday was almost as good as it gets.
My new theory with the Placepot - multiple 10p perms leaving out the obvious favourites - gave me a run for my money but met its demise in the 5th with Keppel Isle and Distant Sound failing to make the frame.
By then it did not matter though. The sun was out and the going had that mysterious term 'good' in the title. All set therefore for Fontwell specialist Venetian Lad. It was his weather, his going and his time of year. I'd watched him labour in the mud all winter, but had been convinced by the determination he had showed in coming second last time that once the sun was out he would do the business.
The only problem was getting the bet on. The queue for the face painting was lengthy,

giving a clue to the make up of the crowd. I'd spotted 9/1 available with one bookie on the end in the ring but 2 women (yes it's always women I'm afraid) were wanting 50p eachway bets on De Blacksmith (because one of them had a granddad who once was a smithy apparently) and couldn't understand why such a bet cost a £1. Inevitably by the time they had finished the 9's had been wiped off (electronically these days) and I had to settle for 8/1 with the 'best odds guaranteed' man. I normally avoid Goodwin Racing because of their annoying catch phrase 'you'll get it' (said in a sing-song voice), but with only 20 seconds to the off there was no choice.
Marc Goldstein, Venetian Lad's jockey, was pushing away for most of the last circuit but to my eye the horse seemed to be responding. Admittedly doubts were creeping in between the second and last fence, as Venetian Lad was still in third place, but as the Racing Post reported he 'stayed on gamely to lead final 100 yards.'
Going to winners enclosure to see one you've backed come in is always a good feeling. It was great to see Mrs Richards, Venetian Lad's trainer, give a Judy Murray style fist pump as she greeted her winner. I loved her comment afterwards in the post race interview to the race day announcer, Lee Mackenzie, that "he (Venetian Lad) likes it here because he can get back quickly for his tea."
Incidentally it struck me again just how good Mackenzie is on the loudspeaker at Fontwell. He might use the same product on his suspiciously black hair as Ronnie Wood, but he is knowledgeable, amusing and most importantly does not drone on as if 'he loves the sound of his own voice' as some others do - Plumpton please note.
Venetian Lad was the big one, but with victories for Colin Tizzard's Sartorial Elegance (presumably named after someone with dress sense like mine) and a promising third at 20/1 for Nick Gifford's The Mighty Don in the bumper it was the best day since the start of this blog.
With that new punting confidence I headed down to Ladbrokes this morning to back Lord of the Land for the Lincoln at 6/1. "Sorry Sir you can only have £25. The rest will have to be SP". Maybe the Magic Sign had heard of the Fontwell exploits!