Sometimes a picture speaks a thousand words.

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Punting is a head game. The psychology of the punt rules, OK. Here I am sitting on three losers in a row. I got one back at Betfair Park on Wednesday, but mid-weekers don’t really count, do they? So I’ve consulted my psychological advisers, The Missus and Giovanni Pesci, and they both tell me that I need to go back to basics, to do what I do best. Back standout horses for a place. Get back on an even keel. Keep two feet on the ground. It’s all about confidence, Geoffrey. They tell me that my head is too confused in those last frantic minutes – is it a back or is it a lay? What is my password? Can I get matched? Just do the one thing – what I am good at! They reckon they can tell from observing my own body language on TVN that I’m not doing well. They fancy themselves as people watchers.

I’m listening. So, today is standouts only. Back bets only, no lays. And for me a standout is when I have crossed out every horse in the race bar one. And the bar one must look good.

I walk into Caulfield and see one straight away – Launay. Head down, relaxed, with winkers which I still don’t like much, but it’s only a five horse field and $1.10 the place is nowhere near my threshold of $1.75. So no bet. Nothing much till Velocitea in the sixth. Again relaxed, and with the opposition having faults – a bandage on Time Matters, and Solchow restless and kicking in her stall. But $1.10 the place? Please.

The seventh, the Typhoon Tracy stakes. Won’t be much action here with six horses and the Typhoon at $1.10 the place. But I love races with five, six or seven horses. If you can pick second, the divvy is often quite exceptional value. Typhoon Tracy looks well, fit, and head down, although mucking about with her head a bit. Snipers Bullet shows me a burst of fizz, and Joku is sporting a small worrying bandage and goes into the barrier riderless. Dao Dao looks great. So, if I ignore the Typhoon I have a five horse race with a standout. A bet! Need I say more? Dao Dao surges home for second and $2.80 for the place on the tote. The Typhoon manages $1.50 for the win!

I think I’ve got my feet back on the ground. And there was only one occasion when I briefly jumped up. Toorak Toff in the fourth was a quadruple dumper and ran sixth, but my place lay at $2.00 wasn’t matched.

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Blue Diamond day. Hot and windy. Another flying hat day. A north wind day. A losing day!

I saw some lovely horses. Littorio looked terrific, Willow Creek was nice and relaxed, and Headway is my favourite horse. Littorio soldiered on for fourth, Willow Creek was desperately unlucky, and I’m sure Headway hit the front at the 100 before being swamped in the last 50. But none out of three, whichever way you cut it, is still a loss. Isn’t it funny how losing makes you feel much less expansive. It’s nothing new though. My place strike rate varies between 52% and 65%, so on average every second or third horse is a loser, and I probably lose one meeting in every five.

The north wind got a few of them going. Rostova was kicking the boards off the back of her stall and so I laid her for the place at $1.74 and she did nothing in the race. And a few others were letting rip too, including Vigor and the Oakleigh Plate winner, Starspangledbanner. So kicking can’t be all bad. The champ, Weekend Hussler, also let fly with a few after the race, so he can’t have been feeling too lame either. Denman looked nice, but just for me he did a small dump in the mounting yard, about 200 micrograms, just to make sure that I was paying attention. And Changingoftheguard had a nice erection in the parade ring. I ran after him to get a photo, but it had all collapsed by the time he got to the mounting yard. And that’s how he ran – like a pricked balloon. What’s that word Phillip Adams likes using? Detumescence.

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I don’t always go to the races. Sometimes, you can catch me in a library. Today I’m back at my old stamping ground, the University of Melbourne, searching the literature in the Baillieu Library. In the olden days this was a real pleasure. Flicking through the card catalogue, breathing in the smell of musty old journals in the catacombs, and then robotically Xeroxing a stack of interesting papers. These days it’s all computer searches, huge online databases, and ejournals, with not even the faint whiff of a musty electron. And no photocopying – I just email the results to myself or bung it all on a geek stick. I come here maybe once or twice a year, when the students are on holidays. I mainly search the horse behaviour literature, but I also wander off into gambling psychology, equine exercise physiology, efficient market economics and other horse racing trivia.

I’m thinking about the long-awaited sequel: Watching More Racehorses, as I scroll through interminable lists of references. Or how about: A Punter’s Progress. Or: Son of Watching Racehorses. Maybe: Watching Racehorses Rides Again, but that is probably a bit too Hopalong Cassidy, or was it Destry?. My reverie is suddenly interrupted. I might have been scooped! Nicholas Rose and Susan Blackmore tested a psychic who claimed to be able predict the winners of horse races. That would put me out of business! Unfortunately they didn’t take him to the track but tested him at home and in the lab on a computer horse race and with toy money. In the end they did 210 tests and he predicted the winner 21 times. Did I tell you there were 10 runners in each race? So his performance was exactly what you would expect by chance. And the interesting thing is that when he was interviewed later he was convinced that the results confirmed his psychic powers! I can relate to that.

Another title grabs my attention: “The influence of religiosity on gambling participation”. Now my religiosity is extremely low and my gambling participation is, well, quite high, so I was intrigued. But in the end it was a let down. The authors concluded that there was a significant difference in the frequency of religious participation between gamblers and non-gamblers. And the more types of games played (casino, horses, lottery, bingo) the lower was the frequency of participation. Well it just seems common sense to me really – you simply have no time left for God.

And finally, there was this one: “Do bookmakers possess superior skills to bettors in predicting outcomes?” Let’s jump straight to the conclusion: “Employing a conditional logistic regression model on horse racing data from the UK we find that, in high liquidity betting markets, betting exchange odds have more predictive value than the corresponding bookmaker odds”.

More power to the punter!

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It has been raining cats and dogs in Melbourne so I’m feeling a bit nervous about the punt. I don’t bet if my racebook gets wet or if the track is worse than dead. It is rated a Dead 5, which is very borderline.

I’m there early for the first because I like the two-year-olds. And I’ll ignore that light sprinkle on my racebook. Is that really water? I cross them all out, except In Faith, who gets divine assistance and streets them on the line. I’m feeling quite smug because it’s the first time I’ve pulled off a back and a lay in the same race. I took an exception to the beaten favourite Tizona, who was very unsettled with the jockey up and didn’t keep four feet on the ground. So I conclude that the track can’t be too bad and I’m up for another go in the next. Again, I cross them all out except I Need To Fly. My place bet with the bookies, at $4.60 no less, flounders and runs home 12 lengths last. Back to where I started. There is obviously something wrong with the track! I check the race times with my chart of par times compiled by the late and great E.J. Minnis and discover that it is hovering between Dead 5 and Slow 6. Time to shut up shop.

In Race 5, the strapper of Still Me (who I later discover is the jockey’s father and trainer’s spouse) confides that the horse doesn’t like it wet. Still Me, who hasn’t won in three years, wins in a canter. Is this track wet or dry? I risk another bet on Silvercitymiss in the mares race. Fifty metres from the line and the horse is hopeless on the rail and going backwards. I turn away from the TV and don’t watch the rest. The track is too wet. Greg Miles says there is a photo for third, with Silvercitymiss in it, which seems impossible. I watch the replay and can’t even find the horse’s colours. The photo comes up and it gets third. How can that be? I look at the replay another four times. Two metres from the line she is fifth and then in a miracle, two heads up and one down, she gets the photo.

So, 1/2 backs, 1/1 lays. But the most interesting thing that happened all day was when I fired up the betting instrument it displayed a list of available networks, and there was the name “simon beasley”. That must be some comfort to Simon, to know that his computer can still come to the races, even if he has been rubbed out for four years.

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I’m still in laying mode, but with some trepidation. The technology is giving me a very hard time. The other night I was idly flicking the screen of my betting instrument when it suddenly froze and went all white, much like its owner. Yikes! I couldn’t turn it off, I couldn’t turn it on! After much shaking, tapping, fiddling, flicking, pressing and swiping it finally succumbed, and agreed to switch itself off. Phew! And now everyone is telling me horror stories of iPhones freezing after only a few months. I rush to the filing cabinet to check if I took out an extended warranty. Phew! I place the instrument carefully aside and swear not to touch it till race day.

It’s very windy, in fact, it’s a flying hat race day. Mine only lasts till Race 3 when an almighty gust rips it off my head, despite the safety rope. Horses and humans, we all hate it. Girls in mini skirts daren’t venture outside.

I carefully remove the delicate instrument from my pocket for Race 4. I’m going to lay She’s Got Gears. Shane Templeton on TVN announced that she hasn’t got the bandage she wore the other week when the stewards inspected a couple of stitches on her hind leg and passed her fit to run. But often they are hard to see, especially black or grey bandages on bays. Sure enough, she’s still got the bandage. So I’ve got inside information that the TVN punters don’t have. And I caught her eating straw in her stall, which is a definite no-no. So it’s a lay. With fingers crossed I press the button, and the instrument fires up, no drama. I’m on at $1.84, and She’s Got Gears does the right thing by stalling in first and dropping to the rear, but suddenly, she finds top gear on the corner and flies home for second. A pity I laid her for the place. And I’ve doubled my play money bet too.

Here De Angels

Another chance in the sixth. Here De Angels, a well-known barrier rogue, appears with multiple head gear. A nose roll, ear muffs and a tongue tie. But he seems remarkably poised, and whilst I would normally oppose a nose roll horse, his head shows no signs of rejecting it. And the ear muffs are probably a huge plus, considering the gale force wind. Maybe he’s a back bet. I’m still debating the matter in my head when they jump, and the Angel sprouts wings to win.

Another chance in the eighth. Bird Of Fire has the nose roll, but has her head up as well, a definite sign of unhappiness. She is $1.90 on the tote, but I’m forced to take $2.16 on Betfair. She never gets set alight and I’m counting my money on the corner. I’m starting to get used to this laying business.

I like the favourite La Rocket in the last, so it won’t be a lay. But it’s hovering above my $1.75 limit on the tote and with 30 seconds to go I dive in. He fizzles out a bit in the straight, but hangs on for third. I’m crestfallen when the dividend is crunched to $1.60. But 1/1 backs, 1/2 lays, and a betting instrument that is still alive. I leave the track smiling.

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I am on a mission. I am only opposing horses today. A test of the new punting paradigm. After all, I am better at picking losers than I am at picking winners. My first goal is simply to keep my betting instrument alive for the whole day, which means my thumb will get a workout on the refresh button. And my second goal is to successfully lay a horse. My first chance is in the second, a 3YO fillies race. I’m logged in nice and early and note that the favourite Depasse is under a strong hold and is resisting the jockey on the track. Into the bar with two minutes to go. A quick scan of the odds and I go for it. A tap on the lay side and the sophisticated betting instrument has a heart attack. The screen goes blank and I get stuck with the download sign, that revolving sun symbol. Frozen! Yikes! And of course Depasse runs like a dog.

Another chance, in the next. Not the favourite, who is very unsettled, but Shining Bullet, dumping all over, struggling strapper. I’m still alive on my betting instrument, and the bullet is showing $2.70 the place. Over my limit, but lay, lay. I’m on but not matched. It’s blowing out, I’m left behind. Revise the bet to $3.00. Unmatched! Blooming flaky markets! The bullet doesn’t fire.

Last chance, Pinatas in the fifth. And I’ve failed in my first goal, to keep my betting instrument alive. Login again. One minute to go. Lay available at $1.67. Take it. Matched. I can’t believe it. I’m on. They jump. Pinatas does nothing. Thank goodness. One out of three horses layed. One out of two goals kicked. Hope the coach picks me next week. I’ve obviously still got a few technical problems to overcome.

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The VRC has been hyping the Lightning Stakes and parading Cannonball before the media, the first American-trained horse to race in Australia. Everyone is more interested in the controversial rider, Patrick Valenzuela, who has an impressive list of 11 suspensions for substance abuse, mainly cocaine. Apparently, he once shaved off all his body hair to avoid detection. Fortunately, Racing Victoria’s integrity department has given him the all clear. So, we’ve got a race. Although Valenzuela hasn’t ridden Cannonball, the trainer doesn’t think it will be a problem: “He’s hyper-strong, we don’t want to get him too excited. Patrick knows these type of American horses.” It’s a pity he’s at 25/1 in early markets as it looks like a terrific lay opportunity. But I’ve pretty much decided that I’ll only oppose horses at $3.00 or less for the win and $2.00 or less for the place.                             
Cannonball is not in his stall, on first look. In fact, he doesn’t turn up all day. Why is the VRC hiding him when he was promoted during the week? Maybe he’s too excited? Hyper-excited? At last he appears in the mounting yard. Two strappers to control him, with a stallion chain through his mouth, a tongue tie and dumping everywhere. Wow! This horse is about to explode! No wonder they hid him. Fit, though. My tip is that anything could happen, but most likely he’ll do a broadside over the running rail. Stand back!
There are some nice relaxed horses in this race: Headway, Nicconi, Wanted, Burdekin Blues and Shellscrape. I back Headway for the place at $2.70. Cannonball doesn’t fire a shot, and Headway runs on for fifth. Nicconi gets up from Wanted and Shellscrape. A pity I don’t take trifectas. I run into Emil, who has just backed the winner. He has had horses with Hayes and follows the stable religiously. He has had a super day, and backed Our Aqaleem as well at 25/1. I get a lecture. “Loyalty, Geoffrey, that’s what it’s all about. Loyalty.”

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I remember this day so well, over 50 years ago. There were a heap of kids playing in our Dandenong backyard. An Albizzia tree had fallen over and had been cut up into a huge mound of branches and leaves. All the kids from the street were there, tunneling and burrowing into the heap. The Keatings, the Pigdons, David Briggs from next door. Auntie Dix appeared with refreshments for the teeming throng. “Do any of you kids know what day it is today?” We all shrugged and looked at each other without a clue, until Darryl, who was only ten cents in the dollar, piped up “It’s my burfdee!”. So, forever after, Australia Day remains Darryl’s birthday.

Kids today seem much more nationalistic. Flinders Street station is packed with young people heading to the Big Day Out, many of them draped in the Australian flag. And even at the races, the patriotism of youth is on show.

Me, myself, personally, I prefer the Eureka flag. Such a shame that it was hijacked by the Builders Labourers Federation. And I see that the Australian of the year is a professor. That’s a welcome change from a cricketer. But it reminds me, as my Mother always reminded me: “Not everyone can be a professor, Geoffrey.”

I kick off with a loser, Ello Ello in the 2YO. So that’s three in a row, coming to the fifth. Denman would have to be the best looking horse I’ve seen in a long, long time. Looks like his Dad, Lonhro. Sporting tapes, which are fine, and he does a big dump right in front of me, which is a minor worry, but it’s a good solid consistency. In fact a few of them are letting rip – True Persuasion, Carlton Forward, and The Handsome One. But it’s a no bet race, with Denman paying $1.04 for the place. My limit used to be $1.50, but since I got greedy it has blown out to $1.75.

Zarita and Danzylum both look great in the next. Danzylum is only showing $1.80 for the place compared with the $4.40 that I got last week. So I go for Zarita at $3.00, and she powers home for third like a horse that has won $1.5 million should. Going Spending looks fabulous in the next but is $1.40 on the tote. Inside the bookies have it at $1.65, so I check it on Betfair and find $1.68. The tote creeps out to $1.60 and with 20 seconds to go hits $1.70. So I go for it and the place was never in doubt.

My heart is thumping, bursting with pride. Redemption at last. And isn’t it good to be an Australian.

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I’m having a pretty ordinary day really, sitting on two losers. Both straight out place bets. Affluence in the 2YO who I couldn’t fault and briefly ran on before collapsing, and Lock It in Eddie, that didn’t even try to run on. So I’m up for some laying. And at last two chances in Race 6, the appropriately named Betfair Handicap.

Dane The Rave looks to be a hospital case with three bandages on his hindlegs. It’s a very bad look and it would be very hard to muster enthusiasm to back him. So he’s a definite lay if the price is reasonable.

And at last a favourite that I can oppose, Esprit De Bullet, with my pet aversion, the nose roll. As everyone keeps reminding me, Vintage Crop won the Melbourne Cup with a nose roll. I know, I know, I know. A nose roll on its own is only a minor negative (14% in the book) and horses can obviously get used to racing with it. But if I see a horse that shows sign of resentment then I give it the flick, and Esprit De Bullet showed the classic signs. Head up, the strapper using two hands to control it and circling it around in the yard, and then the icing on the cake, resisting the jockey on the track. I’m itching to take it on.

Into the bar, two minutes to go, whip out the iPhone. Did I tell you I had an iPhone? Login in a flash, it’s easy remembering your Mother’s maiden name once you get the hang of it, and the Betfair place market pops up. Suddenly the phone starts ringing. Why is my phone ringing when I have a secret number? And why does the market disappear and a big red box with “William calling” appear. Answer the green box, or Decline, the red box? A no brainer. How I hate that expression. Red! Red! Red! Decline! Decline! I’m betting! The market reappears and I see Esprit De Bullet is available to lay at $1.89, which is not fair really when he’s $1.60 on the tote. The phone rings again “William calling”. Accept or Decline? Bloody hell! I’m betting! But it’s the brother-in-law and The Missus could rescind all privileges if I deny her brother. Answer! Sweetness and light. “Yes, William?” He wants me to put a bet on his horse at Morphettville, Red First. He’s cleaning out his farm shed and can’t get to the TAB. OK, I’ll do that. He promises to give the money to The Missus, his shed-cleaning assistant. The market reappears, but it has gone all white with a big CLOSED sign on it. Bloody, bugger, bum. A lock out. I’m starting to get the hang of this laying business. It is not easy. And I didn’t even get to see the odds about the hospital case, Dane The Rave.

And wait a minute, I thought my iPhone was a secret number. I’ve got two phones – my sophisticated betting instrument and my regular mobile, for calls from relatives. Why wasn’t he on the relatives’ mobile? I have a sneaking suspicion it’s something to do with his shed-cleaning assistant. And look, Dane The Rave finishes sixth, just ahead of Esprit De Bullet.

Red First is crucified in Adelaide, so it’s three losers for the day. But I’m not counting it, because I didn’t see it in the flesh. None out of two, if  The Missus gives me the money.

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