Chapter 6 - Can The Races Be Beaten?

Racing has inspired more slogans than most sports.

Damon Runyon was credited with originating the saying that "all horse players must die broke." Runyon, however, disclaimed credit for it.

"You can beat a race but not the races," is another slogan quoted frequently at tracks, especially by fans who not only play all eight races but usually bet on more than one horse in each race. Tipsters, too, like to quote this axiom at the same time that they offer about five or six "sure fire" horses for each day's play.

All axioms and slogans, of course, have some truth in them. And all of them are pretty superficial when examined logically.

Every now and then stories bob up of men and women who have beaten the races. Like most stories, they tell only part of the facts.

Several years ago, a woman attracted considerable attention by betting $20,000 to $25,000 to show on the favorite in the feature race of the day. She clicked in New England and once caused the track to have a "minus" pool. State laws require tracks to return at least a nickel, and in some areas at least a dime, on every wager. If too much money is bet on a red-hot favorite the pool, especially the "show" pool, may not be large enough to pay the state's share and return the required amount to bettors on that horse for show. In that case, the track must make up the difference.

This happens so seldom, however, that the $1,000 or $2,000 which the track pays out of its own pocket brings it 100 times that in publicity. If the track sees such a situation may develop, especially in races with only five or six horses, it may cancel all show wagering.

Since the woman plunger refused to disclose her name, she was dubbed the "Woman in Red" because she always wore a red costume. After a few successful weeks she moved on to New York, but there, apparently, became the "woman in the red" and disappeared. Obviously, a fortune wagered with a return of only five or ten cents on the dollar soon vanishes when a loser is encountered.

A professor at an eastern university received a measure of notoriety by his announcement that he had perfected a fool-proof mathematical system based on the odds of each horse. His system was simple and logical. He just wagered a scientific amount on each horse so that no matter which won he came out ahead. It's about the same principle upon which a bookmaker operated.

A bookmaker who watches his board closely—and they don't stay in business if they are lax—spreads his play so that he, too, wins every time. Of course, he can't dictate what horse a patron must select, but when play on any particular animal gets top-heavy the bookie can lay it off with other books or "commission" dealers.

The professor, if the story is true, might have had a perfect mathematical system but it was of no practical use to him, a fact which newspaper writers should have spotted immediately.

It was pointed out earlier that odds change on the "tote" every 90 seconds. The professor every 90 seconds would have to hide behind the grandstand and work out new percentage figures. Even if he waited until the last minute to get down wagers, he would find that the final bets changed the odds and that the last figures were not flashed on the board until the wagering had closed.

To come out ahead, the professor might have needed a $1,000 bet on Flub Dub. Flub Dub may have been 6 to 5 when the professor plunked down his money. Even if that were the last money accepted at the window, the $1,000 in itself would pull down the odds and the horse actually might close at even money or less.

Back in the days when bookmakers operated at tracks, the professor might have used his system once. But then bookmakers, who are not philanthropically minded, would have caught on and either refused his wagers or made him change the amounts he wanted to wager.

Stories from the past tell of big plungers who made fortunes at tracks. Again, some of them contain much truth and some have now been relegated to the realm of legends. Many of the big plungers either had their own horses or had an interest in the horses of friends. In those days, it was much easier to manipulate both horses and men.

Stories about these plungers cleaning up at 10 and 12 to 1 can be dismissed as legends. For it is fallacy to assume that big betting coups are pulled off with such long shots. Bookmakers in those days had to be keen judges of horse flesh, and to win, a horse had to be fit. The bookmakers' own dockers spotted form quickly and a horse that showed he was rounding to shape never went to the post at very large odds.

Several years ago, a scandal was unearthed in a steeplechase race at Maryland. Some jockeys and their friends decided to shoo in a horse. But they found the horses most uncooperative. Several horses who didn't know they were not supposed to win went out front and held steady. Frantically, the jockeys tried to persuade them that their efforts were to be just for fun, and finally the riders had to take to the parachutes to prevent their plot from being spoiled. The winner, when he finally was shooed in, paid only 5 to 2.

When a 20 or 40 to 1 shot comes down front, the safest bet is that only a few stabbers have tickets on him, because a horse with form so poor that he commands such odds is not a reliable betting tool.

Owners and trainers seem more reluctant to "take a flyer" than the average fan. And, at times, their judgment is no better.

A retired press association telegrapher once joined his brother who had been taking a small stable around the various tracks for years. At Detroit, a former colleague showed up for a visit and they confided to him that since the track was muddy they were not betting a nickel on their horse. They were letting him run in order to determine whether he could handle himself in the mud since they had just acquired him.

Several minutes later, they got their answer. The horse reveled in the heavy going and led from break to finish. Fans, who were not on the "inside," bet $3,000 on him to win, and they were rewarded on the basis of 11 to 1.

A state official whose family operated a small stable scoured the capital until he found a bookie willing to accept $250 on one of the horses. The horse ran seventh in an eight-horse race.

A week later the horse again was entered, and friends of the official, hearing about the last time, jumped aboard. This time the horse won by a length and paid $15 for $2. But the state official hadn’t risked a cent because a brother had wired him that the horse was too far over his head.

A New York owner, believing a business deal would keep him from the track, wagered $500 with a bookmaker. At the last minute, the owner found he could make the race. But as he reached the track, he was disconcerted to see that heavy showers off and on had turned the track slow, and his trainer had previously pointed out that the horse could not run on an off course.

The owner happily refrained from getting down a wager, but not until the horses were at the post did he remember the $500 he had bet in town. He moaned over his stupidity and reconciled himself to the loss. But when his eyes cleared, there was his horse sweeping across the finish line. No one had told the horse he could not do well on an off track.

Large stables, too, have no "inside" that makes them better judges of horse flesh. Top-flight jockeys, who should be among the shrewdest judges of horse flesh, often make costly errors. A jockey, giving his choice of riding several horses in a big stakes race, will, likely as not, pick the wrong mount. Eddie Arcaro talked himself out of another Kentucky Derby winner by picking a horse which finished in the ruck but whose stable mate won rather easily.

No, then, seems to be the logical answer to the question raised at the beginning of this chapter: Can the races be beaten?

But the real answer is: yes and no.

No applies if by beating the races an inquirer means piling up a fortune practically overnight. The era of the big plungers is over although some movie stars now and then get a measure of publicity by reports that they won or dropped a fortune at the tracks. Like most Hollywood stories, these reports are subjected to some eyebrow raising.

Movie press agents have no difficulty magnifying a dollar by a hundred or more times just to get their client's name in the news or gossip columns. Most of the stars wager on "inside information" of various kinds but usually find that there are no fan clubs among horses. One actor is reported to have dropped $10,000 on a "hot tip" in the Kentucky Derby, although how anyone would be gullible enough to believe there was a "sleeper” among such high-caliber horses is puzzling.

Pari-mutuel wagering has discouraged plunges at tracks, for the bettor would simply be bucking himself. Theoretically, every dollar changes the odds, but, naturally, at tracks where $300,000 or $400,000 are bet on every race, it takes a sizable wager to tumble the odds.

However, the effect of any change snowballs. A wager of $1,000 would drop the odds on that horse. Hundreds of fans, noticing that drop, would conclude something is brewing and scramble to get aboard. That would tumble the odds still further and pretty soon the horse would wind up the favorite.

A $10,000 or $25,000 bet, of course, would scramble the odds with the next 90-second change on the "tote" board. Except on the heaviest days, such a wager might drop a horse two to six or seven points at one time. That certainly would be the signal for thousands of fans to hurry to ride along.

Here and there over the country the men and women who have found racing profitable for consistent periods are those who have vision, fortitude and patience. An eastern dentist, as far as can be checked, makes about $100 a week, year in and year out, from playing the races as a hobby. He figures them out and his office secretary takes care of getting the results and getting down the next required bet.

He plays the same system and the same amount with which he started. The lure of success does not tempt him either to change a rule or two in order to get more action or to start plunging to clean up.

A small-town printer in the midwest goes ahead clicking, too, season after season. Some days he finds no plays, but he never departs from his method. His theory is that racing will be going on as long as he lives, and if no play bobs up today there will be one tomorrow.

These men, and others like them, pay little attention to the axiom that "you can beat a race but not the races." Instead, they trade on fortitude and patience. They have set up rules and stuck to them, come what may.

The average fan goes wrong because he believes he should have lots of action. Most players, if their fairy godmothers slipped them a foolproof system with two simple rules, would not stick to it more than a day or two. Soon they would start fudging on the rules in order to get more plays. Or they would modify the rules because a 10 to 1 horse almost fit their selection method in a race in which a true pick was only 2 to 1. Or, when they encountered a few losers, they would throw caution to the winds and start improvising. Soon they would wind up in the soup and blame it all on their fairy godmothers who got them into it in the first place.

As in all ventures, returns in racing are usually in proportion to the risk. A good solid horse will not pay 10 to 1 any more than a "gold chip" stock will return the same profit as a wild cat oil stock when an unexpected gusher is struck. The chances are good, however, that the company with the "gold chip" will be flourishing long after the oil venture is forgotten.

The average player, too, has little patience to make long studies and checks. An eastern businessman, returning home from his first race day, believed he hit upon a bonanza. His idea was to play the top horse of a racing paper's consensus and keep doubling until he got a winner. He had no idea of the number of consecutive losses that might occur or of the sum involved in doubling up each time. For two days he fared well and then the losses came.

He "retired" from the turf after echoing to his friends: "You can beat a race but not the races."

Six months later he came out of "retirement" with another scheme just as precarious. Within another week or two, he again gave up.

Some study and checking on both occasions would have saved him money and headaches. He never would have exercised the same snap judgment in his own business.

Hundreds of men and women have followed the races for years. The assumption that all of them lose would mean that they have a tunnel tapped into Fort Knox or that they print their own money. For few people have an inexhaustible bankroll.

On the other hand, many players do go broke. But after all, a player should exhibit at least as much sense as the horse.

Are You Ready To Move Onto The Next Lesson? Click Here….