THE AUSSIES HAVE GOT IT CRACKED
The right to a minimum bet is enshrined in law Down Under. It’s got to be 10,000-1 that it ever happens here
AUGUST 20
For all her endeavour and enthusiasm, there was always something of the put-up job about Victoria Pendleton’s foray into race-riding, but there was nothing contrived about her work as an expert summariser on the track cycling for Radio 5 Live during the Olympics.
As her fellow commentators geared themselves to a state of near-giddiness in the race for medals – the pressure! the danger! the split-second decisionmaking! – Pendleton calmly outlined her expectations for the British team, based on their level of ability, the work they had been putting in over the years, and the quality of the opposition.
Her accuracy was uncanny, without a need to raise or vary the voice,at least until the race was over.
Impressive.
AUGUST 23
There’s a short item on the life of a professional online poker player on the BBC news website.
A young man emerges from behind an immensity of wires and computer screens to discuss his existence.
He’s personable, intelligent. Figures-focused.
Shares a house with other players, which can help with matters of strategy, as well as providing a competitive edge to the atmosphere.
The money can be good but there is little or no time for a social life.
(And this is not to speak of the bad backs;the aching,stinging eyes when the night session is over, let alone the frustration of being outdrawn in the biggest pot of the night by a heavyweight in Helsinki. Some Swede with superior software).
Each to their own path.
AUGUST 25
Up early for coffee with an old betting pal. The paper spread on a table in a beachside cafe,before the summer crowds kick in with windbreaks, boards and bags. Where to start? To find that thread again? How about the resilience of the Timeform brand, across these many years? Here we are,tuning into Racing UK just before the start of the 3.15, and the ratings are up on the screen, assertive, if not quite adamantine, as they have always been. Chances are the analysts worked there,at some point or other, up in the wilds of Halifax,and it left a big impression on them.
It is something in the way they look at a race, like eager third-formers in the science lab at school.
Notes carefully checked at the end of the lesson to confirm the appropriate conclusions have been reached about the experiments just undertaken,as the boys who never concentrate properly scuff their way out into the corridor.
My friend and I both went to grammar schools and on this day when the GCSE results are habitually announced (which also happens to be my birthday) we can each conclude that marks were left on us which have yet to be fully erased.
Passing five years there with scarce a single act of kindness crossing our path.
Too many teachers unable to read between the lines of things; too quick to conclude you won’t be capable of amounting to anything based on the figures set out in front of them.
On the long-standing assumption that in order to find an edge you need to be looking where others avert their eyes,my friend checks owners when he’s assessing a card,in perhaps the way we learned to look at the groupings in the racecourse paddock as the jockeys walked in, whips slapping against the side of their riding boots.
Why is nobody but the travelling head lad there to pass on instructions to the one riding the favourite?