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Michael Atherton Book 'Gambling' Cheltenham Festival Extracts

As we all know Michael Atherton the former England cricket captain is a very keen horse racing fan and in his recent book 'Gambling' he has a very good overview of the Cheltenham Festival where he compares Cheltenham as the Las Vegas of the racing world. Its Gold Cup champions' chase pulls in all the highest rollers. But, explains Mike Atherton in this exclusive extract from his book Gambling, it can be a surefire way to lose a fortune."Son, no matter how far you travel, or how smart you get, always remember this: some day, somewhere, a guy is going to come to you and show you a nice brand-new deck of cards, and this guy is going to offer to bet you that the jack of spades will jump out of this deck and squirt cider in your ear. But, son, do not bet him, for as sure as you do, you are going to get an earful of cider." - Damon Runyon, The Idyll of Miss Sarah Brown

It is two hours before the start of racing and the Guinness tents are thronged with punters. A band strikes up an appropriate Irish tune and the queues are five deep at the bar. Paddy Power, the Irish bookmaker, is brazenly offering 2-1 on 200,000 pints of Guinness or more being drunk during the festival and this is one bet that the punters have some control over and are determined to win. Everywhere, groups of men and women - young and old, well dressed and shabby, hands thrust deep into coat pockets to protect them from the biting chill - are chatting animatedly with the unmistakable air of anticipation.

At the heart of gambling is a communion with the future: a way of buying hope, however transitory. Over the next four days, hope will, more often than not, turn to disappointment and many a now bulging wallet will be emptied. But the first day of the Cheltenham National Hunt Festival is not a time for pessimism, or even realism. It is a time for optimism..

It is a meeting for the true believers, a proper racing and gambling crowd, unlike the social occasions-cum-fashion stakes that characterise some race meetings during the flat season, or the once-a-year dabblers who blindly stab at finding the Grand National winner. As a punter, it is hard to win at Cheltenham. Most of the races are championship affairs, races full of the highest class of horseflesh. This often means that very good horses go off at seriously tempting prices, which has lured many a dreamer to an early financial grave. Because of this potential (for reward and ruin), Cheltenham attracts the high rollers of racing, just as Las Vegas is a magnet for the high rollers of the poker table. It is a place of fearless betters and equally fearless bookmakers, a place where the frisson of danger is never far away.

This year the gravest financial danger is to nine anonymous punters who are the subject of an article in the Racing Post. The nub of the story concerns the fitness of an Irish horse called Kicking King, the new 7-2 favourite for the Cheltenham Gold Cup feature race of the meeting. Kicking King is trained by Tom Taaffe, the son of Pat Taaffe, who rode the legendary Arkle to three successive Gold Cup victories, and it is in the bar named in that horse's honour that my friends and I are chuckling over the now traditional pint of Guinness. Two weeks before the festival, Taaffe announced that the horse had trained badly and was subsequently found to have mucus in his lungs. Taaffe pulled him out of the Gold Cup reckoning. Accordingly, his odds on Betfair, the online betting exchange medium, had drifted out from 7-1 to 999-1, reflecting the fact that his chances of landing the crown had all but disappeared.

Gamblers are always on the lookout for a risk-free bet. For these nine punters, Kicking King's withdrawal represented such an opportunity. They decided to "lay" Kicking King to win the Cheltenham Gold Cup odds at 999-1 (that is, they were playing the role of the bookmaker, offering odds of 999-1, which other people could accept). Some people did accept and these nine punters eventually found themselves laying £54 (ie an average of £6 per head) at 999-1. Their stupidity can only be marvelled at: they were willing to risk £53,946 for a potential gain of £54 (although they believed their risk to be nil, since Kicking King had been withdrawn from the race).

It was now Tuesday. The moment of truth for Kicking King, and nine very nervous punters, would come at 3.15pm on Friday, the day after St Patrick's Day.

The Gold Cup is the zenith of the Cheltenham Festival when the best chasers in Britain challenge each other over a punishing three and a quarter miles. It is the ultimate test of a horse: the stiff fences test a horse's jumping prowess and the final gruelling hill its stamina and its heart. The greatest names in the history of jump racing have been inextricably linked with Cheltenham and its Gold Cup, among them Golden Miller, Desert Orchid, Dawn Run, Best Mate and the incomparable Arkle. The Grand National may be the nation's favourite race. The Gold Cup is, unquestionably, the race of champions

As we waited on Kicking King's moment of truth, what were the nine anonymous punters feeling? Were they sweating up nervously, as the horses that were about to put their courage on the line were surely doing? What had they done since they had struck their lunatic bet? Had they reduced some of their liability by backing Kicking King at 7-2? Were they at Cheltenham to watch? Or had they merely done an ostrich impression for the duration of the day, hoping that when they emerged, blinking into the sunlight, the world would not seem such a cruel place and that they would be, communally, £54 richer instead of the best part of £54,000 poorer?

The off was greeted by a thunderous roar - matched by the growing excitement brought to bear by a grand old grey horse, the 11-year-old Grey Abbey, who led the field through the first dozen fences or so. The public for some reason always takes to a gallant grey.

Kicking King took quite a keen hold early on, expending too much energy, which must have worried his jockey, Barry Geraghty, as his mount was not certain to stay the trip. Kicking King had won once before over three miles, but that was at Kempton - a sharp, flat track - very different from Cheltenham's undulations and its punishing uphill finish. Geraghty, though, settled his mount soon enough.

Of the other fancied horses, Celestial Gold, trained by the champion trainer Martin Pipe, clouted the first fence and never really recovered; Strong Flow travelled well until the downhill sweep to the third last caught him flat-footed, and Sir Rembrandt, who had joined Grey Abbey at about halfway, also failed to go the pace on the downhill stretch.

With two fences to go, it was between Kicking King and Take the Stand - an unfancied 25-1 shot trained by the little-known trainer Peter Bowen. Briefly, as they turned for home, Take the Stand looked as though he might spring a surprise, only for his challenge to fade up the hill. Kicking King's class showed through and, with 200 yards to go, his coronation was a formality. And so it came to pass, on a glorious spring afternoon, the day after St Patrick's Day, that Kicking King powered clear of the finest horses in the British Isles and came home to general Irish hoopin' and hollerin'. Sir Rembrandt finished a tired but creditable third.

The Irish claimed a memorable treble - Cheltenham Champion Hurdle , Cheltenham Champion Chase and now the Gold Cup - which would be a long enough tale to fill the 360 evenings until the moment came to pack their bags for another trip over the Irish Sea. Somewhere in the ether of the betting exchanges £53,946 had just changed hands and nine punters had cider squirted in their ears.

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