Tuesday
It’s here. Months have turned into weeks, weeks into days, days into hours and the Cheltenham Festival is finally here. A 7.00am Ryanair flight can’t even drain the excitement coursing through every fibre of my body. I reach down and pick up the crisp, fresh Racing Post beside me and turn to page 64, Cheltenham. The page just drips with anticipation. The Supreme Novice, the Arkle Chase and the Champion Hurdle and that’s just three races of the first four. The place is alive. Horses circling the paddock, bookies screaming the latest prices and different punters everywhere united in their common conversation, “What’s going to win” The sign above my head really says it all, ” Welcome to the Greatest Show on Turf”. Cheltenham must be one of the most profitable events of the year for bookies. Any bookie hoping to increase their profit margins should click here for the best pay per head companies in 2019.
The great thing about the start of Cheltenham is that you haven’t backed a loser yet. This quickly addressed in the first. I’ve two speeds of betting when it comes to the festival, “lump on” and “to have an interest”. Thankfully this was of the “to have an interest” variety as my fancy Spirit Son is done by Paul Nicholas trained Al Ferof. I make it two in a row, as Medermit runs no sort of race in the Arkle. two bets, two losers, it can only be up from here.
I send a text to everybody that’s looking for tips everyday during the festival. It racks up quite the phone bill but I’d be killed if I didn’t share my thoughts. This text though can prove majorly restricting. This restriction becomes evident in just the 3rd race of the festival. I arrive into the betting jungle to find my fancy from the text Sunnyhillboy now 4/1 favorite and the horse I thought would be favorite Bensalem out to 13/2. What am I supposed to do? Back Sunnyhillboy even though he’s now poor value just because he was in my text or back the now-good value Bensalem. Feeling a tad guilty I back Bensalem but that decision is rewarded as Choc rousts him home for a great victory. Things are suddenly not feeling that bad at all especially with my biggest bet of the year coming up in the next race.
Hurricane Fly, he’s pretty magical isn’t he? Weeks of putting more and more money on are rewarded as Ruby pulls out a length victory from Peddlers Cross. I can’t contain my excitement and tear down the stairs to greet Hurricane Fly back in the winning enclosure. As Ruby waves his whip in delight, I know that after this guy’s win, I can’t have a losing week. It feels good, really fecking good.
Quevega is next up in the mares’ hurdle and she wins easy. Actually, to say she won easy would be the understatement of the year. She simply destroyed her rivals. A cheeky double with Hurricane Fly and a huge single made her victory one to savor. God this betting lark is easy!
Three more “to have an interest” bets result in three more losers. Not to worry though, a wheelbarrow would be needed if I won any more money and that would be simply embarrassing. Pockets suitably bulging, to quote the Black Eyed Peas, “I gotta feeling, that tonight’s going to be a good, good night”
Wednesday
Wednesday proved to be the difficult second album. A loser in the first race was followed by a good bet on Oscar Wells. Not having been popped a question and looking by far and away the likely winner coming down to the last, Oscar Wells made a terrible mistake to put him right out of contention. This felt like a day that nothing would go right and that was the only prediction I got right all day!
Mikel D’Augunet was running in the RSA chase and, down on my luck compared to yesterday’s red-letter day already, I decided to have a nice bet on to try steady the ship. Sadly, Mikel proved there were choppy waters ahead – it wasn’t going to be easy to right this sinking ship of a day. He was still going well at the top of the hill, but he too made a terrible mistake and fell to the floor. This gambling lark wasn’t proving as easy now as previously thought.
The Queen Mother Champion Chase proved a war between heart and mind, the heart of Captain Cee Bee and the mind of Big Zeb. In the end, neither proved correct as Sizing Europe stormed up Cheltenham Hill to record a famous success. The Captain was third and the Zeb second but now it felt like any further bets today would be like rearranging the deck chair on the Titanic.
Ireland had won the first four races by this stage and then won the next two. Did I have any of them? Of course I didn’t. I mean what kind of a gambler am I that I can’t even back one of the six horses that won from my native country? Further salt is rubbed into six fresh wounds as Cheltenhian, my original fancy for the Bumper, storms in. I officially don’t like Wednesdays after that debacle of a day.
Thursday
Thursday had a weird feeling to it. I was still up a fortune but felt I was losing the battle after drawing a blank on day two despite the six Irish winners. I felt my prospects might be bleak unless I took immediate action. That action was as follows – back Big Bucks, back him again and back him again, again. And boy was the ship back on course.
No pace whatsoever, the presence of potential superstar Grand Crus and the lack of a whip after Ruby lost it a furlong and a half out could not stop the almighty – I was rolling in the winnings once again. Big Bucks was never so apt a name.
My usual tactic of bets for an interest did not pay off again as I backed five losers on the card (I should really stop taking interest bets if I’m honest) a particular lowlight was the case of Solix. I had heard from a well-connected source that Solix had a squeak each way in the Coral Cup. Now by “well-connected” I mean I heard it from the trainer’s wife’s hairdresser’s cousin’s nephew but that’s very much “well connected” when it comes to the desperation for Cheltenham info. So off I went, down into the jungle, to procure the best each ways odds I could. The first bookie I found was offering 50/1 paying out for a place 1, 2, 3, 4; but the second bookie was offering 40/1 with places all the way back to 5th place. I went with the first bookie, who could resist 50/1? Where did he finish? Bloody fifth, of course.
An early Cheltenham lesson I learned is that other meetings should not be ignored in the pursuit of the ever-elusive winner, so step forward the bumper in Wexford. Word had come through that Tom Coopers was a certainty in what looked a very ordinary race. A sneaky bet on at 5/2 did very nicely and my day wasn’t finished yet with the “lucky” last to come.
The last race on the Thursday at Cheltenham is actually a charity race. As a charity race it’s not run under the rules of racing (so anything goes really) and the horses are ridden by ordinary Joe soaps like you and me (as a result they are not exactly Ruby Walsh) so it’s not exactly the best medium in the world for a bet. But this is Cheltenham, there used to be a dog race run instead of the charity race and I once had my biggest bet of the meeting on trap 6. My theory is: well, 200 quid on trap 6 at 4/1 pays exactly the same as 200 quid at 4/1 on the winner of the Gold Cup. On the presumption that all the jockeys would be equally useless (I preface that by saying not quite as useless as I would be but anyway) I based my betting on the best horse in the race. Plain and simple that horse was Plato trained by Henry Cecil. A nice bet on at 6/4 and he skated in. These charity races are easy pickin’ so they are!
Friday
Now, with renewed vigor, I faced my final day of the festival. I sent out my daily text and headed to the course. Today my day was to be all about Long Run.
The Albert Bartlett proved a frustrating race to say the least. After heading down to the bookies to back my text tip, Bobs Worth, I changed my mind and ended up with a ticket for a few quid each way on Gagewell Flyer. How the hell did that happen? After the Bensalem fiasco, I just presumed any change from my text tips would all be to my benefit. How wrong I was. You’ll need a flashlight to find Gagewell Flyer as he’s still running while Bobs Worth hosed up. Murphy’s Law, and I, kicking myself all the way till the next race.
The Gold Cup was next up and this was a biggie. I had loaded up my Hurricane and Big Bucks winnings big time on Sam Waley Cohen and the French-bred six year old. After making a few early mistakes, I started to sweat a little bit but in the end Sam galvanized him home under an heroic ride from the English amateur. That was it – an epic Cheltenham completed by a serious amount of winnings. It certainly had been a long run but my god was it worth it.
In the next, I had advised with confidence in my text, Sir Des Champs to win the Martin Pipe. On arriving in the ring I found he had been backed into 4/1, I said “no thanks” and again diverted from my original selection. Of course Sir Des Champs decided he wanted to piss me off more then anything and, after being nowhere early on he came from out of clouds to get his head in front to pip my 12/1 pick on the line. Gutted, but I was still miles in front and from this Cheltenham I would be returning home with a lovely big wedge of cash in every pocket.
So the Cheltenham festival had come to an end once more. I have won money and lost money. I have roared with delight and cried with despair. I have questioned my thinking and my confidence has been sky high. Over the course of the week I’ve been asked repeatedly “what’s the certainty” and it’s only now with the roars silenced, the horses at home and the races run, I know. The certainty is I’m back next year and every year because this is Cheltenham, my Cheltenham, our Cheltenham and it really is the greatest show on turf.
In anticipation for next year, I am going to research matched betting. To put it simply, it is a way of bеtting using a mathematical equation and allows you to profit from free bets and incentives offered by bookmakers. There are communities, like Oddsmonkey or Profit Accumulator, that guide you through the process. This Oddsmonkey review speaks very highly of that community and it appears joining one is a no-brainer. If it’s going to boost my profits then why not?
Epilogue
On arriving home I turned on my Facebook to find an explosion of well-done messages. My text tipping had been mediocre at best so I was wondering what the hell this adoration was about! A celebration of mediocrity perhaps? But soon I realized what it was all about. I had written an article for TimesOnline entitled “one euro to one million” for Cheltenham week – that article delivered four winners from seven runners and, while happy with my tipping prowess, I had kind of disregarded it when the second horse lost, spoiling the accumulator. After writing that article I was at our daily Law lunch (it’s just as sad as it sounds) and they asked me for a bet that could win them maybe a small fortune, not a million euro one. I told them to do a one euro Yankee, a bet that involves four horses and results in serious money if they all win. It’s a dreamer’s bet but sometimes dreams come true. So 10 of the class went down to the bookies and I explained how to do the Yankee and I thought nothing of it. The four horses I gave them? Big Bucks, Hurricane Fly, Quevega and Long Run. A €1 euro Yankee returned a whopping €280. They were in raptures of happiness when I got back, talking about weeklong parties, champagne all night and how I must have made a complete fortune off the bet. The reality? I had forgot to put a single penny on it.
