Racing memories (good or not so good)

I used to take my dads bets to the illegal bookies ( Laura’s) up the road every Saturday. 3x4 penny doubles and a six penny treble if I remember right. I remember skipping up the road one year shouting Laura I’ve got my dad’s bet and a policeman who was nearby made a point of ignoring me. I sometimes used to wonder if it was a false memory until someone on a Hockley Facebook page told m that the bookie was called Laura and the shop was on Crabtree Road where I lived. I had a bet on Team Spirit when he won the National and had a newspaper cutting of him next to my bed for years along with one of Mill House. I lost my dad a long time ago and one of the things that rekindled my interest in racing ( I’d always watched the National) was it took me back to those days of my childhood when everyone was interested in racing. I wish I’d talked about it more with my dad when I grew older. The only family member I had that still had bets was my cousin and he sadly died a few weeks ago. I used to phone him up when a big race was on but wish I’d gone to the bookies with him sometimes. I do remember him telling me that he always backed horses that were BF last time out. So now, when I watch the racing I think of my dad and now Charlie. Sometimes, when there have been fatalities I want to walk away from racing but it’s part of my dna. My family know that when I ‘m gone my headstone has to read ‘she kissed Desert Orchid’.
 
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Luckily my father would talk horses day and night .
He grew up beside Denis Vaughan of Clongeel Stud of whom it was said knew the Stud Book as well as his catechism for his confirmation, aged 11 or 12.
My father , used to learning by rote at school , had the interst to so educate himself.
That there were cigarette cards depicting Derby and Grand National winners also helped their generation .
Clongeel Stud was a country stud standing NH / hunting stallions Golden Love , Carnival Night in my boyhood.
In 1981 Boreen stood there for a season or two; a better class of racehorse and stallion to the others that had defeated (Arc runner up )Pistol Packer and had been invited to contest Washington DC International.
Anyways dad took me to see Boreen and said " Racehorses come in all shapes and sizes , but this is what a racehorse should look like "
Alas my father died the year Germany stood there, so missed that episode.
Another night a non racing man sat listening to my dad and a few friends talk horses for hours on end, not repeating themselves once .
He asked what it was about horses of all animals that brought such interest and joy.
My father replied that there was only so much you could say about a bullock !
 
edgt said:
Luckily my father would talk horses day and night .
He grew up beside Denis Vaughan of Clongeel Stud of whom it was said knew the Stud Book as well as his catechism for his confirmation, aged 11 or 12.
My father , used to learning by rote at school , had the interst to so educate himself.
That there were cigarette cards depicting Derby and Grand National winners also helped their generation .
Clongeel Stud was a country stud standing NH / hunting stallions Golden Love , Carnival Night in my boyhood.
In 1981 Boreen stood there for a season or two; a better class of racehorse and stallion to the others that had defeated (Arc runner up )Pistol Packer and had been invited to contest Washington DC International.
Anyways dad took me to see Boreen and said " Racehorses come in all shapes and sizes , but this is what a racehorse should look like "
Alas my father died the year Germany stood there, so missed that episode.
Another night a non racing man sat listening to my dad and a few friends talk horses for hours on end, not repeating themselves once .
He asked what it was about horses of all animals that brought such interest and joy.
My father replied that there was only so much you could say about a bullock !
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Brilliant stuff!
 
In 1964 I was home from school with a cold. I was lying on the sofa reading a book when my Grandfather came with a newspaper. (He liked a bet and my Gran disapproved so he used to use our phone.)
He put 5/- on 2 horses. I picked the paper up looked down runners and Mighty Gurkha seemed a great name. I asked him to put a shilling on for me. 'Save your money'
was the reply. After it had won at 33/1 he mumbled something like 'Let that be a lesson to you.' He walked out. Checking the dates, that was the last time the Lincoln was run at its home course.
 
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Janthefish said:
Interesting one that Len. I never ever cash out. The reason being, I will have started that day putting the stake on and as per usual, you normally think, bye bye money. So if your bet moves through increasing, then great. What is it that you are losing when you know you are getting a return greater than your stake anyway? You didn't get the 3 grand, and I just know you would have kicked yourself over that at the time. I couldn't do with the kicking tbh, I would have gave myself stick over it. We don't get many chances of a big win, so my mentality is to let it run and be right happy if it comes off. I am sure this is financial suicide when those who know the cleverness of take or gamble look at it, but it is what I would do.

A few years ago, and you can check this out on the ...what are you backing thread..., it was roughly October/November 2016, I had two days where I won about £3k over both days. My memory tells me that I had 4 out of 5 winners on both days, I let both run on to the fifth, and sadly the 5th on both days lost. I remember it so well, I gave my son 500 sheets for xmas and told him if last one both days had won it would have been a few grand. I'm probably wrong, but I won't ever cash out.


There's a Damon Runyon short story I read many years ago but the gist of it is a man borrows a dollar and goes to races, bets every winner up until last race where he puts everything he's won on the odds on favourite to place. The inevitable happens as he's walking out he's asked how he had got on. Not bad I suppose, I lost a dollar.'
As I said I read it many years ago so details may not be 100% accurate.
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I can heartily recommend Damon Runyon’s collections of short-stories to one and all horse-players, and/or those with an interest in tales of skullduggery and derring-do from the Prohibition era.

He was a brilliant, hilarious teller of the tale.
 
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moehat said:
3x4 penny doubles and a six penny treble if I remember right.
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I can remember my nan sitting at the table in the flat in Shepherds Bush with a Daily Mirror marking off runners on the racing pages. I'd imagine similar stakes, but I was too young to really get it. I have no idea how she got the bets on, to have a chat with her now about that would be just amazing.

moehat said:
I wish I’d talked about it more with my dad when I grew older.
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Yeah, I'd give my right arm. But it's one of those things you just don't know till later, right. One day, maybe.

moehat said:
Sometimes, when there have been fatalities I want to walk away from racing but it’s part of my dna.
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Makes you question it, doesn't it. But the draw is just too strong. I find I'm (too) regularly whispering 'please get up', and in the rare times something happens away from a jump, it's heartbreaking.


moehat said:
My family know that when I ‘m gone my headstone has to read ‘she kissed Desert Orchid’.
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That's magic, a great way to be remembered. Just want mine to read 'it's a 3 way photo in the Whitbread'. Hopefully, neither will come to pass for a few wee years yet.

Or we all get headstones in a row and a walk down the line will read like a potted history of the last 40-50 years of racing.
 
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chaumi said:
I can remember my nan sitting at the table in the flat in Shepherds Bush with a Daily Mirror marking off runners on the racing pages. I'd imagine similar stakes, but I was too young to really get it. I have no idea how she got the bets on, to have a chat with her now about that would be just amazing.
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Yes, the only older people in my family I recall being interested in racing/betting were my granda Paddy (father's father), my father, my Uncle Pat, his brother, and my Auntie Mary Kelly (Auntie Marys on both sides of the family so surnames were the norm). Paddy died when I was about 12 so don't recall too much about his betting but I know he did.

My father was a proper form student, buying the 'Form Book' regularly and thumbing his way through it in advance of the big handicaps. He was also the bookie's runner in the Rolls Royce factory in Hillington. I've heard a couple of stories about why he gave that up, one of which was that his gaffer found out and warned him about it. But I recall he used to bring home loads of change in a leather purse and get my wee sister to count it out for him. Small wonder she ended up working in the bank. The money was his commission.

My Uncle Pat was a small-stake big-multiples bet-every-day mug. I don't think he ever learned or got in front but he never married and only had to worry about himself. He was a cabinet-maker based in Bedford and I think he was okay money-wise.

The most fascinating was Auntie Mary Kelly. She loved the racing, always watched it and always put bets on on Saturdays. Latterly it was me who ran to the bookies to put her lines on for her. She seemed to have a great memory for what she'd seen previously, for jockey-trainer combos etc, and seemed - to me - to pick a huge number of winners regularly. She regularly got five and six up on the ITV7. My father insisted she was lucky and his mantra was always 'better to be lucky than good'. I used to love sitting watching the racing with her. She never got excited, just said things like, "That's another nice winner for me..."

According to my mother she was also "hoaching" at the chapel bingo!

Wonderful wee wummin.
 
That's magic, a great way to be remembered. Just want mine to read 'it's a 3 way photo in the Whitbread'.

1984 whitbread still my favourite finish.
 
Jerry , a local builder turned newsagent and jeweller had two great passions in life; racing and golf.
His history as a racehorse owner was mixed to poor until he hit the jackpot in 1988.
His golf handicap was a mix of Tony Martin genius and Charles Byrne chutzpa .
His racehorse trainers were Pat Casserly , John Joe Walsh and Edwina Finn (Billy Lee's mother)
1987 he should have landed a touch at the local p2p but his horse Lisadell's Choice ran the wrong side of a flag and was disqualified, losing Jerry a fortune.
My father part owned and bred the runner up but we had no bet on.
1988 he owned Ballydaly Express, the only horse that season to win a p2p and debut bumper .
He won his bumper at Limerick St Patrick's Day meet.
The ground was bottomless, there was a seven race card with bumper divided , BE in the final race.
Top Irish Amateur Pat Healy (Paul Townend's uncle ) was riding.
In the paddock pre race Pat suggested to Jerry that it would be a shame to spoil BE's future career on such ground.
Jerry , his last (borrowed) shirt on the line grabbed Pat by his lapels and allegedly said " Ground or no ground, just WIN, CUT THE F****r IN Half if you have to !"
Pat may well have been winding up Jerry but won cleverly , by a neck .
BE was sold at the Derby Sales that summer and topped the sale making 43,000.
Purchaser Gordon Richards was replacing their top novice Tartan Tailor and told Jerry post sale that they were willing 50k for BE.
"If I had known that " replied Jerry " you would have !"
The following week Jerry entered a team in the JP McManus pro-am and finished in the top three.
He was also instrumental in Michael Winters proposing to Patricia.
Seeing Michael head for the bank across from his shop he intercepted and sold him an engagement ring, no doubt to pay towards some slow hungry racehorse !
Jerry passed away c 2000 and the world lost some colour.
 
I’d also throw in watching someone else watching a race, and then me being drawn into the “event” itself. I found myself leaving junior school at home time, and noticing the caretaker, Mr Croft, watching the 1973 GC in the assembly hall. I had developed a cursory interest in the horses at around that time, so I knew the names Pendil and The Dikler, as they approached the last (although Pendil “looking like he only has to jump the last to win the Gold Cup”, according to P O’Sullevan). Mr Croft obviously had money on The Dikler, and was cheering him on. Now, Mr Croft was also the dad of my mate John, so I felt compelled to offer my own encouragement. We were both happy. And what a race to remember.
 
My first trip to Leopardstown was quite unforgettable.
I was studying in Dublin and staying at a University Residence near The Dropping Well pub in Milltown, four miles from the racecourse.
January 1984 I decided to cycle to the races after lunch and for company had a Peruvian student, Larenzo de la Puente , learning English for company.
Having borrowed a bike for him we set off.
The route through Dundrum is quite hilly and poor Larenzo had probably only cycled around his back yard in Lima so was struggling from quite early on.
"Are we there yet ?" was asked every furlong of the trip.
Eventually we made it, having passed McGrath's famous Glencairn gallops where Levmoss, Weaver's Hall et al were put through their paces.
In the stand Larenzo looked at the line of bookmakers and wondered aloud why there were so many people selling umbrellas !
Hold The Head won the Scalp Hurdle that day but Larry's love for cycling and racing was very short lived !
 
My first trip to any racecourse was to Hamilton. My father decided to treat me to the day for my 18th birthday (September 1973, so just before I started uni) knowing I was a 'seasoned punter' by then :lol: (He'd have been disappointed if he'd known I was also a seasoned pubgoer!)

Back then every course had dozens of Tote windows with 10p the minimum stake. I think I afforded myself £2 punting money for the day.

My next-older brother (the one I refer to on here as 'the brother') was a big fan of Brian Connorton so when I saw him on a 33/1 shot in one of the early races I decided I might as well have a wee punt at a nice price. I put 10p place-only on the horse, reckoning I'd be happy with about 80p profit if it managed a place, which it did - third. To our astonishment, it paid 28/1 and I felt pretty flush. That was about the same as I could expect to get from my commission on my Friday evening Vernons Pools round.

And as I said elsewhere, in those days at around 12p for a pint of 'heavy' that was a good return.
 
Teenoso 1984 King George - my Dad wanted me to play in his work cricket match . As much as I liked playing cricket this was not a race I wanted to miss . Somehow I managed to get out of it and remember a very golden July day and that extraordinary ride from Lester when he raced off in front of the pacemaker, took a breather kicked on and ran a glittering field into the dust - I suspect that at a friend’s 17th birthday party that evening I was the only one giving Teenoso a thought …
 
Ardross said:
Teenoso 1984 King George - my Dad wanted me to play in his work cricket match . As much as I liked playing cricket this was not a race I wanted to miss . Somehow I managed to get out of it and remember a very golden July day and that extraordinary ride from Lester when he raced off in front of the pacemaker, took a breather kicked on and ran a glittering field into the dust - I suspect that at a friend’s 17th birthday party that evening I was the only one giving Teenoso a thought …
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It was a great ride, yes. The soft ground horse made his stamina an asset on firm ground - no one expected that.
 
Being aged about 4/5 , Royal Ascot, Mum/Dad et al would go on the Heath for the week. Picnic etc. Me jumping up and down in front of my Dad taking FOREVER to pick a horse and then he always backed Lester to win, saying 'hurry up! ' ( we're talking 10p here). Me on 3rd brothers' shoulders ( 15 years older than me ) near the winning line, grey horse flashes past first but it was close. Guy in front of us turns round and says to brother 'was that X?' , yes says my brother, 'yessss' says man ' I won'. I burst into tears saying 'that's my horse, my horse' believing that only one person could bet on each horse in a race. I then also believed we could ask 'the man' if we could take said horse home as I had bet on it. Always picked greys as well - good reader even at that age.

Ascot several years later, Dad has just passed away, on a whim said to Mum do you want to go to Ascot? Then thought how insensitive was that. :( Yes she says let's go. On Heath, picnic chairs etc , me putting bets on. Saw a fabulous looking little filly go to post at about 40/50 -1 but thought she as stunning so put my bet on her. Watching them come round the final bend, she was in front. 'Oh Kags' says Mum, 'she's going to win'. Not she's not Mum, Lester's coming. She did get upset during the day, once asking Dad for inspiration to which I said it will finish second Mum and he'd have done it to win. Which made her laugh more than she cried that day.

Towcester, February 2010: miserable day. Miserable, miserable day. Ground was terrible. Almost unraceable. I told everyone not to back her, Molly, as ground terrible, distance too short. I was so mad she was running at all. Jockey told not to get behind as no 'sprint' finish. Set off at the back and I mean at the back. I'm in the stands muttering, and so is the trainer. They go past on second circuit. She's still at the back. Coming round towards home straight, commentator says, 'Mrs Fawlty's making a move'. She steadily starts passing horses which are basically stopping and she is not. Second last, she's still going well. By now I'm at the last hurdle. She's just behind the leader as they come to it. I'm screaming at her - COME ON MOLLY!!!! PICK UP, PICK UP! lands in front, picks up, obvious she's going to win. I'm in tears. Cannot believe it. Phone starts ringing. I run to meet her. Can't stop saying thank you to Jason. She's out on her feet,literally. Trainer says to him, loved the ground, no she didn't he says but she tried so hard and heard you shouting at her at the last hurdle, watch it back and look at her ears.

Ascot 22nd November 2019 watching Catterick inside the grandstand ( didn't think I could drive to Catterick and back in a day- paa! now... ) anyway, no sound obviously. Joe had been told just get him round, first time over the big fences, education etc. Always liked to be out in front, I'm dying at every fence until he clears them. Keep saying to my friend, ' how much further?' ' I don't know he says. OUt on 2nd circuit, he's still there, makes a bit of a hash of one ' ooh no Joe don't do that'. All the time, I'm talking him over every fence, loudly. They start to obviously pick up, how much further I say, I don't know says my friend, Joe asks him for a big one, takes off practically outside the wings, I am now actually having a heart attack, and he's hit the front. How much further, they must be near the end now. I don't know my friend says. Still in front and easily in front jumps fence, Joe looks round, he's well clear, Joe looks again, he starts to stop riding, no no no Joe what are you doing, don't do that! Man next to me says ' he's won love, that was the last fence'. I literally throw arms in air screaming my head off and in tears, doing the Oh my oh my oh my I don't believe it.' Tap on shoulder, turn round to see about 40 people standing there clapping. Lady says is he yours love? I bred him I say. All of them , well done love, great stuff, fantastic . Even watching it back later could not believe it. ( Many good days since obviously but that really resonates. )

Many other days of joy and some sorrow but perhaps those 4 the pick.
 
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Great mix G-G , Thanks.

My first trip abroad racing was to York Ebor meet August 1988 when I spent my first pay cheque.
My second trip though was more like fun.
Back at uni "studying "for an equine studies post grad diploma, I decided to make good on my earlier promise not to miss out on seeing good horses race when possible.
Having watched Desert Orchid defeat Panto Prince in Victor Chandler while also roaring home Redundant Pal in Ladbroke Hurdle at Leopardstown ( no Lorenzo in sight) I planned to head to Sandown for Gainsborough Chase 3 weeks later.
Overnight ferry and train to London return was for a student then the price of a one way Ryanair flight now.
I had accommodation in London with a school pal's sister ( so I thought ) so sent her a postcard the day before I caught the ferry.
This was a proper adventure; catching the 46A bus for Dun Laoghaire , not getting off at the stop near Leopardstown but going to the ferryport to catch the ferry.
All aboard the London train at Hollyhead then through the night unable to sleep with excitement.
British Rail even had prawn cocktail sandwiches on the menu though I , on a student budget had packed a few ham butties for the journey ( the days of packing Barry's tea bags and a hip flask still just a glimmer !)
Once shops opened in London I bought my Racing Post ,familiarising myself with train times and station for the racetrack.
It was a two day meet and I was there for both.
Catching an early train for Esher I walked the long way around the course as the racecourse was yet to open.
Passing the railway fences I got a shiver ; this was true freedom !
The highlights of Friday's racing were; 1. Simon Sherwood's riding of a flat bred (possibly by Northfields) in a Novice Handicap chase; one semblance of a mistake and the horse would lose heart, but Simon gave the horse time and sight of every fence and nearly won, the finishing hill proving too much
2. a typical Martin Pipe trained French bred hurdler, tall, leggy , no middle but fit as a flea winning it's fourth or fifth race on the trot.

Saturday I had a drive to the races; my hostess and her friend needed a tip at a price for interest so I suggested the lone challenger that day for Jimmy Fitzgerald/ Martin Dwyer combo.
Luckily Maelkar read the script and duly won at 20/1 , paying for the petrol !
Heart skipped a few beats when Dessie was missing from the parade ring; luckily he was just being reshod.
While watching the parade I got into conversation with the gent beside me who invited me for a drink after the race, turns out he was of Irish extraction and working as a solicitor in Kent.
Dessie got a round of applause going to the start, a first for me.
The crowds only wanted one result and were not disappointed , though one elderly couple sitting near me on the stand, she appeared to be knitting , were in despair when Simon gave his mount a breather after the Railway fences " I told you Bert, he went too quick but you just don't listen !"
All ended as intended and after returning to London I headed for the ferry train, delighted that I had witnessed the phenomenon known as Dessie.
 
edgt said:
My first trip to Leopardstown was quite unforgettable.
January 1984 I decided to cycle to the races after lunch and for company had a Peruvian student, Larenzo de la Puente , learning English for company.
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Somewhere in Lima a vet tells a worried farmer, "I will, yeah! Coola boola, ye langer."
 
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