Chapter 09 - Handicapping-Hunch, Hope And Science

How to win by using the track handicapper.

The newcomer at a race track soon observes a curious phenomenon.

As soon as a race is run and the "official" sign goes up, the lucky ones skip to the cashier's windows to collect the rewards of their perspicacity and to engage in banter with those who also had the same courage and convictions.

The luckless ones may stand around for several minutes to engage in post-mortems or to tell all who will listen how they started out to play the winner but at the last minuted noticed that the horse was racing today without blinkers or blinders. The listener then interrupts to tell how he got off the winner at the last minute because the jockey today was not listed as wearing spurs. They sound like two old maids in a nursing home telling each other of their ailments, real and fancied. Then the fans hurry off to get a hot dog or beverage so that their minds can be clear for the next race.

But winners and losers alike soon bury their heads in their racing papers instead of enjoying a half hour of fresh air and sunshine before post time for the next race. To the newcomer, the sight of hundreds of fans buried ostrich-like in a racing paper must look like a movie cartoon.

The fan, if asked what he is doing with face so far down in his paper, will say he is "handicapping" the next race. And he even believes he is doing it.

The specialized racing papers have men on their staffs who are called handicappers. These men not only try to predict the winner of each race but also which horses will run second and third and which horses would do well to stay in the barn and pass up the race.

Actually, neither the fan nor the hired expert on the paper is a "handicapper." For a long time ago a fellow named Noah Webster, who probably never bet a nickel on a horse, defined handicapping as "the placing of advantages or disadvantages upon competitors to equalize the chances of their winning."

When Webster puts out a "digest" version of his dictionary he probably will say handicapping is simply trying to give every horse the same opportunity for winning. Down through the years, tracks have tried several methods of equalizing the chances of all entries. Once they permitted the inferior horses to have a start of a length or less over the better horses. But by trial and error, handicapping was left principally to weight.

The track handicapper, by his assignment of weights to each horse, gives him a pat on the rump and says: "You can do it, old boy!" In addition to his own judgment, good or bad, the track handicapper is aided (or sometimes may be hindered) by elaborate scales of weights drawn up for particular situations. The Kentucky Derby, for example, is weight for age, and since all entries are three-year-olds, each carries 126 pounds. That is, the male entries do. Fillies are given a five-pound advantage and carry only 121 pounds.

Most of the weight, of course, is taken up by the jockey. If a boy weighs 108 pounds and his horse is to carry 120, the 12 pounds are made up with lead in the saddle bags. Fans never will cease to argue whether "live" weight and "dead" weight are equal. Many contend that a pound of "dead" weight actually had the effect upon the horse of a pound and a half of "live" weight.

There are formulas, too, which the track handicapper follows for horses that have won so many races or so much money. Usually, a horse that wins a race is assigned more weight in his next race unless he is being entered with a much higher class of animals.

The track handicapper's dream is to bring each horse down to the finish line in a grand and glorious tie. But if the eight or ten horses ever laid their noses on the finish line together, the trackman probably would keel over and never live to see the "official" sign go up.

It can be readily seen then that the fan and the expert on the racing paper are not "handicapping." They are not trying to bring the horse to the finish line in a tie because, if every fan in the grandstand wins, the track goes broke and the horses must shift for themselves.

Since Webster says handicapping is equalizing the chances of each horse, what the fan and expert really are doing is trying to "de-equalize" the chances. They are attempting by some method of weighing all the variables to arrive at one horse that stands out as the probable winner. The more the fan and the expert can "de-equalize" the chances of all of them and separate them, the more likely they are to catch a winner.

We can put it another way by saying the job of the track handicapper is to scramble all the conditions in such a way that any horse can win. The job of the fan or expert is to unscramble these conditions so that one horse will stand out over the others. In effect, what the fan and racing paper expert are doing is finding flaws or loop-holes in the work of the track handicapper. The track handicapper says to himself that if Knee Pants is assigned 118 pounds it will slow him up just enough so that Flub Dub, a slightly inferior horse, can catch him provided Flub Dub is given only 106 pounds to tote around the track. The player by some figuring method of his own then either agrees with the handicapper or finds some reason for believing that Knee Pants despite his weight is still the probable winner or that Flub Dub with such a slight burden is a much better risk.

To complicate the selections further, a player may decide that if Knee Pants is 8 to 5 and Flub Dub is 5 to 1, the longer price on Flub Dub "neutralizes" some of the added risk. Some of the men on the racing papers, whom it is better to call "selectors" rather than "handicappers," also operate on the same theory. When they make their final compilations for a race, one horse may have got 90 points under their figuring and another 89. But there may be two to five or more points difference in the betting odds and the selector may feel he is doing the player a better service by picking the long shot since the difference between the two horses, on paper at least, is so slight. The player who hits the 8 or 10 to 1 shot will remember it far longer than he will feel the sting of losing in 8 to 5 or 2 to 1 play.

The contest of wits between the expert selector and the track handicapper becomes paradoxical when it is realized that both use the same variables to arrive at their decisions. The track handicapper takes account of the horse's age, speed, consistency, etc. and then assigns a weight. The selector takes the same variables and finally arrives at a horse which he believes to be best of the entries.

Personal information doesn't give much advantage to either man. With more than 20,000 horses in training, no track handicapper nor any expert selector could get to know them all. Both men, therefore, must rely a good deal upon information provided by others and also on past performances of the horses themselves. The professional selector may have a slight advantage in being able to tab some horses as having done better at particular tracks and give them an extra point or two in their figuring. The track handicapper cannot consider this factor.

The track handicapper must do his work far in advance of known track conditions that will prevail at race time. Selectors on racing papers also must make selections in advance and track conditions may change. The player, however, can make his selections at the very last minute before the horses reach the post.

Despite this somewhat favorable factor and his firm resolutions to play them as he sees them, the average player often is swayed by hunch, intuition, or "various signs" he may see or hear at the track. If the track loudspeaker suddenly blares: "Trainer Smith report at once to the racing secretary's office," many fans will whisk open their racing papers to see what horse Smith is training. If Smith has a horse entered in the race coming, many stout fans will waver and switch to it.

A last-minute change of jockeys also may send hundreds of players to re-figuring the selection they may have taken 20 minutes to arrive at in the first place. The jockey switch may be made because the original boy got sick after the last race or was slightly shaken up, felt too tired, or wanted to leave the track early because his maiden aunt was coming to visit him.

A change in equipment also sends fans deep into their papers to try to fathom some inside information. The loud-speaker suddenly may announce that Blue Bell will carry blinkers. This last-minute decision by the trainer comes like an omen to hundreds of fans, many of whom haven't the slightest idea how the change could affect the horse one way or the other.

Many fans do not make up their minds finally until the horses start parading past the grandstand. Some fans prefer a horse that comes dancing, prancing and jumping. They believe such a horse has an extra measure of vitality that day and is just raring to go. A fan who doped out Bungalow as his logical choice may switch if Bungalow comes plodding past the stands with his head down and with no apparent enthusiasm for his work.

Bungalow, not knowing that he has been snubbed, may go on to run a bang-up race while prancing Sunflower may come in last. Some fans also are influenced by the length of the "warm-up" run taken by the jockey. If the jockey, instead of staying with the others after passing the grandstand, lights out on a long run, some fans cross off the horse as wasting too much energy. Probably just as many fans decide to play him on the ground he is so frisky and full of run.

The professional selector is presumed not to be influenced by hunches, tips, intuition or any other factors that cannot be set down upon paper and examined. But as a selector gets to know the horses it is not improbable that human nature being what it is, he will once in a while let his professional judgment be clouded by his personal preferences. We assume if he does it too often, the paper will be looking for another selector.

Most professional selectors do their work far removed from the track. At the track, the day may be hot and stuffy and both men and horses may wilt. Miles away, a selector in an air-conditioned office may be bringing new hope as he goes about the business of figuring out who will win tomorrow's races.

One selector, however, is right at the "scene of action." He is the paper's representative at the track and he usually works the same circuit of tracks. That means he comes into daily contact with many of the same horses, owners, trainers and riders.

For that reason, Trackman (Daily Racing Form— Eastern Edition) should have the best record of all professional selectors but he seldom excels his colleagues. He does from time to time, however, pick horses on top that no other selector rates to be as good, and frequently Trackman chooses a horse that no other man picks first, second or third. (See System No. 5 in Chapter 22.)

This little habit is more noticeable early in the year in winter racing. Since all horses arbitrarily have birthdays on January 1, a horse can start racing right after his second artificial birthday. These two-year-old races are viewed by many fans as "peanut scrambles" because eight, 10 or 12 horses which have never started in a race before have no "form" to aid in doping out the probable winner. The only semblance of past performances to guide the player are the horses* workouts which may not be too reliable. Besides, a horse working out alone or with just one other horse may act very differently when he gets into competition.

In a way, it is something like batting practice in baseball warmups. The fellow who in batting practice lands one in the stands is not always the player who does that in the game. Or an infielder, relaxed and calm because it is just practice time, may tighten up and be "butter-fingers" when the game gets under way.

Many players who like to take flyers in these two-year-old peanut scrambles often are guided more by the horse's ancestry than by his latest workouts. If his pappy and grandpappy were pretty good, the fan is willing to risk a dollar or so to see if the grandson is a chip off the two old blocks.

All this information is available also to Trackman. In addition, he can note the training progress of these baby horses. One or two workouts may mean little or nothing, but steady improvement during the long training may enable one horse to show up as being much better than another one.

The professional selector, as he sits down to figure out a race, acts according to a pre-arranged formula which he may have originated himself or which may have been handed down to him. Each selector's method differs because each one will put a different value upon the several variables.

Naturally, no selector relies upon one or two variables only. One selector, however, may put his major stress on speed, or if he doesn't stress it that strongly, he still may give the nod to the horse showing the best speed record. Another selector may believe that consistency is the true gem in the racing crown and put his major emphasis upon it. His colleagues may favor other variables as being the most important although all of them must be taken into consideration. This difference in operation among professional selectors accounts for their failure to agree many times on the first, second or third choices among the entries.

These professional selectors should be the one group above all others who can show a profit year in and year out. Owners and trainers might be too biased in favor of their own horses to render an impartial verdict in considering all horses in the race. The public, of course, cannot be expected to excel the professional selectors. The track handicapper must abide by certain rules and conditions and, moreover, he must arrange his weight tables so that the race is interesting to the public and attractive enough for owners to want to enter their horses.

None of the professional selectors, however, winds up the year with a profit. The job of trying to tell the winners of more than 1,000 races a year is further complicated by the necessity for the selector to deal with every race. That means the selector must try to guess form in the early spring when the horses which raced during the winter are tapering off or have been retired in favor of the horses just getting into their stride after a long rest. In the fall, some horses are unwound and some are tuned up for the winter season.

But during the height of any particular season, the selector has two major handicaps. As an extreme example, let's take a race in which all the entries are what the fan colloquially calls "dogs." He means horses which are cheap and which have little form. Such a horse might run like Man-O-War today and five or six days later come back and act as if his feet are cased in concrete.

Obviously, such variables as speed, consistency, etc. are valueless among these horses. The fan can take one look at the race and pass it up. The selector, however, must devise some formula for arriving at a winner even in such a race. Often the only tangible variables the selector has for such horses is to look at the class of company in which they have been racing. The selector may pick a horse solely because today he is running for $2,500 and in the past he has been entered for $3,500 or $4,000.

The selector must guess if the drop in price finally will put the horse down among his own kind or whether he still must go lower before he wins. If s a guess but the selector has no other basis upon which to judge.

On the other hand, some races are difficult to evaluate because two, three or more horses may be pretty evenly matched on the basis of the different variables. Suppose three horses which won their last races are today packing the same weight within a pound or two and are going the same distance and being ridden by good jockeys. The selector, although he wouldn't let his friends know it, may find it is just as satisfactory to put the names in a hat and draw out one. For the winner probably will be the horse which gets the racing "breaks." A fast break and a strong ride may be all that any of them need to win.

When the fan strikes such a race, he can sit this one out also. Or since he is bound under no obligation to readers to do his best, he may decide to take a "flyer" on a long shot and this may be the day for long shots.

Each selector also chooses his best bet at each track. The selector, in effect, says that of all the horses racing that day, this best bet is most likely to win. Here the selector should end up the year with a profit, but unfortunately these best bets never return again.

In the first place, the best bet usually is made in a race in which good horses are entered. That means competition is extremely keen. But more important, the best bet is apt to be a substantial horse whose consistency and other records are excellent. The public is well aware of the horse's qualities and back him so heavily he may go to the post even money or less.

A good percentage of these best bets may win but the low price eats up profits fast when some losers are encountered. For example, five best bets require $10 to play provided the bets are the usual $2 ones. Three of the five may win but the total price paid by the three may be less than $10. The percentage of winners—60 per cent —looks good on paper but the actual return in money means a loss to the player.

The factor, however, that throws the selector for his greatest loss is the simple realization that selecting is not a science. Difference of opinion makes horse racing and it also makes selectors, too.

The fact that no set of rules can be devised that can pick the winner of a race with 100 per cent certainty is one reason racing still exists. Any sure formula would give everybody the winner and the track would fold.

Some players find fun and profit, in fact, in going down over a selector's choices and noting the comments about each horse. When they find one which reads: "way over his head, pass him,'* they put down a wager. Such horses win seldom but when they do, the payoff is in bundles.

The player who believes selecting is a cinch should try to pick the horse which will run last in a field of 10 or 12 or more. Next to selecting the winner, the most difficult task is to point out the worst loser. And sometimes it is a lot more difficult.

Some players have attempted to add to the list of standard variables—speed, consistency, etc.—but most of the time their additions have been disastrous. Some time ago, a man did a brisk business selling a method that had just one simple rule: play the horses that also ran yesterday. In other words, if a horse is racing today and he also raced yesterday, he is a choice no matter what other conditions prevail.

At first thought, this may seem like a logical method. A horse that ran yesterday should be in form and also be sharp. The percentage of such winners is small indeed although no one will know exactly why until the horse takes man more into his confidence. A good assumption is that a horse, like a man, cannot go all out physically two successive days. A baseball pitcher needs three to four or six days rest between mound assignments and perhaps a horse requires a layoff, too.

In addition to arranging the variables into some pattern, selecting also involves, at times, guessing both the intentions of the trainer and of the horse. The trainer may be giving the horse just one more race as a "tightener" before he sends the animal for the money. Or if both trainer and jockey know that "today is the day," the horse may not feel like cooperating. Or they may have forgot to tell him that this time it was for "keeps."

Although handicapping (or selecting as we have called it) is not an exact science and at times is more of a contest among track handicapper, trainer and horse, the player should not ignore the men who make a living by attempting to pick winners. The ordinary fan can never hope to know as much about horses as selectors have crammed into their heads.

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