Tales From The Betting Ring – Kempton 19/09/13


Kempton race a lot, in all weathers and any day of the week so most people who go there on a regular basis know what they are going to get. It’s a racecourse designed for the heaving festive delights of the Boxing Day meeting so space is in abundance for summer all-weather racing. That is why they always seem to manage to bolster the crowd with one function or another. Tonight was no exception, I have no idea what the functions were but the vast majority of people in attendance were certainly not regular racegoers.

Like moths to a flame?

Like moths to a flame?

Betting was going on, but reported as small verging on microscopic in the first couple of races. A right shame that was too for the books on the rails. Why? Well although I was at Sandown so didn’t witness it but  those layers who bet here on the previous night said the business was much much better, and yes of course nearly all the favourites won. That Sod and his law eh?  And yes, of course tonight they had a couple of ‘results’ in the first two races and only the lucky brace who took a ‘carpet’ bet on each of the jollies had much to sing about after them.

Nobody at all admitted to getting the 4/5 shot in the book in the third, that got beaten too.

Oh well,it’s not like anyone expected much more, just the odd bet here and there and a bit of novice public money that you just stick into the hod and hope that they had guessed wrong enough to get the exes and some wages for the night. Things weren’t all bad, after all there was a lovely full moon out and as of yet there had been no need for too much howling at it.

It can only be guessed as to how far the layer jumped when given the fright of his life during betting for the penultimate, ‘£10,000 – £1000 Ace Of Valhalla please’. I don’t suppose the punter was too shocked to be halved, not to worry he had the rest next door and wandered off with just a couple tickets to show for his punting courage. The two firms holding the monkeys hardly had time to get their breath back when one of the high street firms caused shock number two by wading into the fray with bets with a healthy ring to them on Jazz Master the jolly. Either nimble fingers hedging or simply  balls of steel got the layers through the next one mile and three furlongs. They got them both beaten though, the jolly was runner-up and the grand bet out with the washing.

Would the mystery four-figure punter be back to chase it up? No of course he wouldn’t, betting took place on the lucky last without any drama at all. Over at the Clubhouse (thank goodness that ‘Clubhouse Turn’ from commentators nonsense never caught on though) there appeared to be a party raging, and fair play to them. I’d like to think the losing big punter was up there too, forgetting about doing his money, but that’s just me I suppose.

(C) Simon Nott   follow me on twitter and spread the word? Many thanks @SimonNott

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