Introduction

Horse racing as a sport has thrived in this country for over 900 years. It is said that the Crusaders returned from their battles with lightning swift Arab horses as early as the 12^th Century. Known as the Sport of Kings, it was the likes of Lord Derby (after whom the principle race in the UK flat calendar is named) and his moneyed cohorts who exclusively enjoyed the thrills of ownership for most of the intervening years.

Indeed, the colours of Lord Derby are still carried with honour, most recently by the incomparable race mare, Ouija Board.

Across ‘The Pond’, in America, it was also the British settlers who instigated horse racing as a sport. The first recorded US track was built at Long Island, on the East Coast, in 1665.

Both sides of the big watery divide, the single common element that increased the popularity of horse racing was that the outcome could not be predicted with any certainty.

And of course the consequence of an uncertain outcome is, and always has been, a wager.

Gambling continues to pay the way for horse racing everywhere, though for how much longer so much poor sport can sustain itself (especially here in UK) is in some doubt, in the mind of this scribe at least.

The point of this rather ragged and incomplete history lesson, lest you wonder, is to emphasise the fundamental role of betting in the sport.

Betting makes for winners and losers, and – in the case of horse racing – the result is binary. You either have a ‘1’, and a win and a payout. Or you have a ‘0’, and not a win, and a loss.

This risk / reward scenario has been embraced since time immemorial as an opportunity to make money.

Historically, when communications such as we have in this digital age were less plausible than putting a man into space, foul play abounded, and scams were commonplace.

It was a brave (or foolhardy) man who struck, or accepted, a wager. Of course, this ‘glorious uncertainty’ deterred neither the aristocracy nor the peasant classes from wading in with their size nine buskins.

In more recent times, with the formation of various governing bodies, from local to international levels, and the appointment of senior on-course judiciary, the scope for skulduggery has reduced manifold (despite what the conspiracy theorists and terminal losers will try to peddle to you if they think you offer even half an ear in their direction).

This makes the practice of trying to find winners more scientific and less susceptible to the unknown and underhand machinations of a preconceived plot.

With the possibility that science or at least artistic study could identify the most likely winner of a race among thoroughbreds, came the students to whose dedication to methodical analysis we owe everything we know today about what is commonly called ‘form’.

The interesting aspect, and the key theme of this mini-series, is the disparate evolution of horse racing form analysis that has developed on the two respective sides of the Atlantic.

The concept of collateral form – that is, A beat B by 5 lengths, and B beat C by 3 lengths; therefore, A should beat C by 8 lengths – is almost utterly alien Stateside. And yet it is the staple here in Britain and Ireland.

By the same token, the notions of pace, class and speed – which underpin US form study – are still the poor relations of collateral form in our verdant lands.

In the course of some of the following posts, I hope to introduce you to some of the key principles of US race analysis, and illustrate how prudent employment of these ideas can lead to real value in one’s betting here in Blighty.

Furthermore, if a methodology can identify the horse best suited to the prevailing conditions, or the fastest horse and, therefore, one to bet, it follows that the same methodologies can identify slow horses, or horses patently unsuited by the race makeup and, consequently, those to oppose.

In this day and age, this affords both bettor and bookmaker opportunities, and it is in both of these spheres that we should seek to take advantage of our window of opportunity.

And but a window it is. For, as with all systems and methods, its effectiveness will be finite and timebound. What works today because it is the premise of a minority of anti-establishment thinkers will tomorrow be the accepted wisdom of everyman.

Although it is sometimes difficult to take the less well-trodden route, it is unequivocally there that the path to financial gain lies.

Tomorrow, we’ll look at the history and evolution of UK form, and briefly consider its strengths and weaknesses as a means of identifying horses to invest in.

Matt

Back from the gym, dear reader, and my head is somewhat clearer.

Time to escape the murky waters inhabited by sharks on bicycles, and revert to what we all know and love best: dear old horses.

Alas, again, I can’t find anything to get excited about. It really is pretty mediocre fare this week. (Fear not, though, for Glorious Goodwood is next week!)

At Catterick, there is a pretty strong draw bias towards high numbers, and a rag with a squeak is Northern Candy in the 4.20. He’s only had four runs, gets weight (for age and claiming price) from most of these, and has the best of the draw.

His best run was last time, and might improve enough to hit the board at around 50/1. In a race full of professional losers, I’d rather tickle at an unexposed one than plunge on the favourite.

Elsewhere, and the Laying System selections today are:

Catterick 5.50 Rare Coincidence
Leicester 6.45 Art Master

Let’s hope for a change of fortune on what, thus far, has been a pretty miserable week in that department.

As promised, later I’ll be posting the introductory synopsis for a little alternative form study series I’m writing. Warning: if you don’t like my verbosity, look away now… (or at least then).

For now, ciao
Matt

Wow, I woke up this morning feeling sick to the pit of my stomach, dear reader. My head hurts and I don’t really know what day it is.

All I can remember is flirting outrageously with someone who, in the cold light of day, was clearly taking advantage of my good nature and advanced state of inebriation.

I am, of course, talking metaphorically about my worship of the false god who is Vinokourov. The man who was single-handedly building a Tour legend at this year’s event has failed (or should it be passed, if you are positive?) a blood test.

The test revealed that he had “old and new red blood cells” in his system on Saturday, the day of his monumental time trial success. This means he must have had a transfusion that day. If he rode like he had the power of two men, that’s because he did.

Blood doping, for those who don’t know, enables the body to take on extra red blood cells. These are the ones that carry oxygen round the body and sustain a rider’s stamina.

Vino is no sporting idol. He is just another cheat in a sport riddled with them. As I suggested in my preview, perhaps cycling was the fairest sport of all because they were all cheating. I had also intimated that that perspective was outmoded and that the sport was entering a cleaner era.

It seems this is not the case. Vino’s blatant flouting of the rules, allied to Sinkewitz (the T Mobile rider) already being sent home for testing positive for testosterone, and the growing raincloud of doubt over the head of Tour leader Michael Rasmussen, and the ongoing case against last year’s winner, Floyd Landis, make this arguably the darkest of many dark days for recent Tour history.

Indeed, for Rasmussen it has emerged that he did not just receive two warnings, but four, for failing to notify the drug authorities of his whereabouts. Three warnings is supposed to count as a positive drug test and a ban should ensue.

The authorities now have the extremely embarrassing situation where this year’s and last year’s Tour winners may be thrown out retrospectively.

I don’t know what to write, or to make of the current situation. I still love the sport, like I still love a drink. But sometimes when I wake up with a terrible hangover, I just feel I never want to drink again.

Even when there is a party that day, such as the sporting fiesta that is Stage 16 of the Tour today. 218.5km of fearsome climbs and descents: the toughest stage of the Tour. And the question everyone will be asking is, “Who’s clean?”.

TdF: R.I.P.

Sombre Matt