I had a panic attack at the Valley a week or two ago – on Easter Monday. My betting instrument froze again. That dreaded white screen appeared and no matter what I did, turning it on and off, it wouldn’t unfreeze. It so unsettled me that I didn’t have another bet all day. I hot-footed it into the Telstra shop at 9 am the very next morning, fearing the worst, a total meltdown. But a very helpful teenager showed me how to unfreeze it. You simply hold down the sleep/wake button and the home button for ten seconds until the Apple logo appears. You then have to enter your SIM password, which is a major barrier to progress, but fortunately I’d written it down on the back of my hand. Bingo. Back in business. And it was only 9.05.

 So out to Caulfield for the Pink Ribbon Cup. The ladies are sporting lots of pink, to remind us all about breast cancer, that bugger of a disease. And even some of the horses are sporting a pink ribbon. I try to get a photo of the ribbon on that unpredictable recalcitrant, Tears I Cry, and at the instant I press the shutter he swishes his tail. True to form!

 In the fourth race I quite fancy Off The Planet, but with two minutes to go the horse is showing $1.04 the place on the tote. The bookies have it at $1.55, so I fire up the betting instrument. On the login I stumble over the spelling of my mother’s maiden name and so delete it and re-enter. The phone freezes. The dreaded white screen. But hey, this is no drama. Hold down both buttons, check the faint inscription on the back of my hand, and I’m back in business. They are offering $1.78. Too good to refuse and 0.03 cents above my threshold! So I back it and it rockets home for third.

 In the last race the favourite Avionics is looking a little agitated. One strapper is walking ahead warning all and sundry to keep clear as “she will kick your head off”. That’s not much of an endorsement for a favourite showing $1.40 for the place on the tote. And the horse is swishing its tail and flattening its ears in a dangerous looking manner and doing little pigroots . I really do like horses to keep four feet on the ground. This horse is sour! A lay, if ever I have seen one! The betting instrument behaves perfectly and I’m set to oppose it at $1.65. Avionics finds all sorts of trouble in the run and finishes last.

 Two workouts for the iPhone, and two other successful place bets (Reverend Lovejoy and Amaethon), for four out of four for the day.

 I leave Caulfield feeling pretty pleased. You might say – in the pink.

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My web site administrator has been exhorting me to provide more information, more lessons on what budding horse watchers should look out for. Less colour and movement. More nitty gritty.

So, here beginneth today’s lesson.

The nasal strip. It’s pretty hard to miss if you simply look at the nose of a horse, but is still quite rare on Melbourne’s race tracks. There was one at Flemington today on Uncle Ivan in the seventh race.

Uncle Ivan

Nasal strips have only been added to the list of nationally approved gear since 1st April last year. They must be of a design and specification approved by the stewards, with only one currently approved brand, the “Flair” nasal strip. Their method of action is much like the strips used by human athletes – to provide increased air flow through the nasal passage. In the horse the strips support the soft tissues over the nasal passage which helps to reduce airway resistance during exercise. The Flair website has a good Youtube video on how to stick them on.

The equine exercise physiologists have had a look at them and a study by SJ Holcombe and colleagues in the American Journal of Veterinary Research concluded that: “The commercially available nasal strip tented the skin over the nasal valve and dilated that section of the nasal passage, resulting in decreased airway resistance during inspiration. The nasal strip probably decreases the amount of work required for respiratory muscles in horses during intense exercise and may reduce the energy required for breathing in these horses.”

Do they work? A quick check of my database for the last few months shows that I have been to 20 race meetings since 1st January and looked at 1675 horses. I noticed six horses using nasal strips on 11 occasions, for one win and five placings, including Uncle Ivan, who finished third. So, more than 50% strike rate for the place! Not bad! Maybe I should put a watch on them. My usual view on gear of any sort is that the horse has a problem which the trainer is trying to correct. So I much prefer cleanskins. But I’ll keep an open mind on nasal strips until I have more data. At the current rate I should have seen enough horses – 100 is a minimum sample size – by 2014.

Here endeth the lesson.

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“I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”

I’ve got two horses I’m keen to back, Éclair Mystic in the first and Elumino in the last. I cleaned up on both of them last time at Caulfield, so I’m all set for a double dose. And now I’ve missed the connection at Flinders Street and I’m going to be late. I get there just in time to check the place odds on Eclair Mystic, $1.55 with the books, but holding up at $1.90 on the tote. No see, no bet, and Éclair Mystic romps home. And in the last Elumino is $1.65 with the books and $1.80 with one minute to go on the tote. Mr Zeljko decides to back it and it tumbles in to $1.30. No bet. Elumino streets them.

I hate being late. It unsettles my whole day. Hello, goodbye.

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I’m lucky to get a leave pass today because I’ve got to go to a wedding. So I’m only here for four races. Don’t young people know that there are races on Saturday? But four is better than none, and they are my favourite races – two-year-olds and mares.

There are crows over Caulfield. A murder of crows, and this is some considerable murder. There must be over 200 of them, sitting on the roof of the grandstand doing Graham Kennedy calls. Every so often they take off and wheel and circle about in the sky. Very impressive.

Crows over Caulfield

Actually, they are not crows, but ravens. In the olden days when I used to be a bird watcher and not a horse watcher I was very pedantic about making sure everyone knew the difference between a raven and a crow. These days I’m not so fussed. And I remember that these are Little Ravens not Australian Ravens, because they lift their wings up when calling and gather up into these huge mobs.

Crows or ravens? Is it a portent of doom? Death even? Vincent and his cornfields?

There’s a standout in the two-year-old, Curtana, prancing around the mounting yard, but everyone seems to have seen it and backed it. It wins like a good thing and returns $1.04 for the place. Avionics looks good and solid in the next and this will be the second time I have backed her. I miss the $2.20 with the books and put it on the tote at $2.10. A nice strong win. The Robbie Griffiths stable is on fire. It’s nice to be ahead, but I give it up straight away on Emblem of Liberty in the next. If I was laying horses I would have opposed Miss Alia, who was led into the yard by the clerk of the course, a very bad sign, and then proceeded to put on a show until led out early onto the track. As I was placing my bet on Emblem of Liberty the tote lass reminded me that there would be only two place dividends. I’m never ever reminded of that, so she must have thought that I was a bit of a dill. I could only mumble that I hope it gets second, but I left the window with that faint chill you get when a goose walks over your grave. It’s those blooming crows. Emblem of Liberty of course runs third.

I leave with what I started with. But the wedding is starting to look good. And I managed to get a nice snap of the bride.

The bride

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I carry my childhood around in my head. And a part of it was lost today. Fess Parker, otherwise known as Davy Crockett, has died at 85. Oh, how we loved him. His good looks and slow talkin’ drawl. Why did he have to be killed at the Alamo? And what was Jim Bowie doing there with his big knife? All I wanted for Christmas in 1955 was a coonskin cap. Thank goodness Santa was listening. That’s me on the right. But of course they weren’t raccoons, but good old Aussie rabbits and fox tails.

Coonskin caps

And that song:

 Born on a mountain top  in Tennessee,

The greenest state in the land of the free,

Raised in the woods so he knew every tree,

Killed himself a b’ar when he was only three,

Davy, Daveeee Crockett, king of the wild frontier.

It’s still using up space in my brain. And I thought all my brain space had been taken up by racehorses.

And so I mope off to Caulfield. I perk up straight away with the first race, a two-year-old with seven runners. I cross out five to be left with Eclair Mystic and Domesky. I have written down nothing about Eclair Mystic. A clean sheet. And Domesky is good, although pawing out the back and circling in the yard. I back the Eclair for a place and they run the quinella. A good start.

Race four for mares and again only two chances. Solchow, who looks a certainty to run a place and Elumino, a cleanskin with no faults and head in towards the strapper. Solchow is showing $1.40 for the place, well below my $1.75 limit, and so I back the other at $2.10. They run the quinella.

Come the last I’m keen for a bet, seeing as though it’s a mares race and I’m up. I settle on Return to Sender until she does an almighty sloppy dump right under my nose. So I settle on Symphony Miss and then she shows extreme resistance to the jockey on the track. So I settle for two out of two.

On the train home it’s still going around in my brain. Davy, Daveeee Crockett, king of the wild frontier.

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It was a fleeting observation, the smallest of things, but with tragic consequences . Well, maybe not such a small thing. You will remember I was chasing Changingoftheguard up the race to the mounting yard at Caulfield the other day, trying to photograph his prominent erection. I was looking forward to the Australian Cup when I could have another attempt. The next week David Hayes reported that the horse was acting “very colty”, a marvellous racing euphemism, and might have to be gelded if he was to achieve his ultimate aim of winning the 150th Melbourne Cup. And then the nightmare, when the stayer died during surgery. Hayes reported that “he suffered a ruptured bowel during the operation and did not survive. He was put down for humane reasons”. I checked with a horse vet about what could go wrong in such a straightforward procedure as a gelding operation and you simply don’t want to know. My sympathies to David Hayes, Lindsay Park and the owners.

So I’m feeling a bit down on this big day, with no sense of anticipation or excitement. The weather seems stifling too and my trips out back slow to a sluggish crawl. In fact, by the time the Cup rolls around I haven’t had a bet. There are lots of good looking horses: Sirmione, Littorio, Moatize, Zarita but head and shoulders above them all is the old veteran Zipping. Lean, fit and bony with the usual Lloyd Williams attention to detail, a pony and two strappers. My one and only bet for the day. $2.30 on the tote compared with $1.95-$2.05 with the books. Zipping falls in by half a nostril.

But I leave the track in a sombre mood. At least I don’t have to take off my shoes and socks, roll up my daks, and wade through ice cold water!

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 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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