Locals reveal their secrets, on how to back a winner at the Cairns Amateurs.

September 13, 2014

The best racecourses get you excited at the front gate.

Walk into Eagle Farm, and tell me you’re not tingling. Randwick too. You can’t help but breathe in the history.

Cairns does it to me every time. The walk to the entrance, reminds me of everything that is wonderful about the tropical north.

So it will be today. There will be a swarm of us, ready for the fun that is Amateurs.

Some, it must be said, will be dusty. Many of those dressed to the nines, will be showing remarkable powers of recovery.

Just hours ago, they were dancing up a storm at the Amateurs Ball. Screaming Shannon Noll’s name as if he was a short-priced favourite three lengths clear.

They will be sweating pure champagne. Such is the sacrifice that must be made for the North’s premier racing event.

Of course, it’s all well and good to be in the social pages tomorrow, but the priority today is to find a winner or three. Luckily, I’m here to help.

After shaking off the black-tie cobwebs, I’ve been able to canvass some experts in the field, to guide you in the right direction

The bloke two stools up at the early-opener told me we must follow that wily veteran Frank Edwards.

He may have been giving that advice for half a century, because that’s how long it seems Frank has been winning races up here.

But age shall not weary him, so don’t be afraid to get on today.

Another veteran hoop will be in action, and as sure as I’ll be late getting a winning bet on, he will win a race.

Robert Thompson could salute on a rocking horse. He’s been coming up here for years, showing the youngsters how it’s done. He might be the one to finance your lobster tonight.

What we don’t want, is to be following jockeys who were bopping to ‘What About Me’ last night.

They tell me he’s a fair dancer, but Chris Whiteley will be saving his special moves for this afternoon. My Gold Coast mates rate him at the top of the tree. Follow him with confidence today, even at odds.

Here’s hoping those three have us excited when we’re walking out of the gates too.

And one final piece of advice. If a woman in fancy headwear tips you something based on names, colours or lucky numbers, follow her. Funny things happen on Amateurs Day. That’s the beauty of it.

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An empty glass on raceday. Could this be the secret to successful punting?

June 15, 2013

In times gone by, it’s fair to say I’ve enjoyed a cool drink on a warm day. Sometimes, even on a cooler afternoon.

Those who’ve been following closely will know a medical hiccup has slowed me down in that regard of late. The big dry continues.

Several of my favourite activities would usually be carried out with an icy cold one. Or two.

There is no way a BBQ can be cooked without a beer. I believe it’s actually law. Here in Queensland anyway. Those in other states should make their own checks.

A day on the punt is no different. It’s what we do. At the track, brews will be had. The girls will find a decent chilled bottle. A win late in the day will send us to the top shelf.

At home, there are few finer things to do on a Saturday arvo than to raid the grog fridge while watching them run around. Break out the Smith chips and gherkin dip and you have the dictionary definition of Relax.

But professionals in the ranks will tell you there’s a downside to all this. That such consumption can lead to impaired judgement. And empty pockets.

It’s a theory I’ve always dismissed. Usually loudly. After the third shout.

Now, I’m not so sure. The last few weeks have shown me a very different way to approach the art of finding a winner.

I’ve been punting while sipping water. At one stage, there was even a cup of tea involved. Like one of those cardigan-wearing gents who arrives at the track at 8am to get the best table.

On each day, I’ve won late. Last race winners. Even a few trifectas. And not a hard luck story to have the most basic whinge about.

Can it be a co-incidence? For the first time since the great Bart was a silver-haired boy, I have cash at the end of the day.

I’m not missing races I have good things in. No ridiculous late changes from texting tipsters with less idea than me.

Because I’m stuck on the lounge, the winnings are staying in my account. Not being splashed over the bar somewhere. Or re-invested on the 1 dog later in the night.

Of course, it could all come crashing down today. In a perverse sort of way, I hope it does. I need an excuse to get back to normal in the weeks ahead. There’s a beer in the fridge with my name on it. I’m counting the days. Winning just isn’t as much fun, when you’re celebrating with Bushells.

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Watching the races, in the palm of our hands. What will they think of next?

April 27, 2013

There was a time when punters crowded around the radio to listen to the races.

Such activity often took place in a pub. The public bar. Loud-mouths had to be told to shut it, as Ken Howard brought the field into the straight.

This was before tv, and the internet. A few years after dinosaurs stopped roaming.

I can remember listening to the daily double at the kitchen table. Mum would have had a dollar or two on her favourite jockeys of the time.

Miss a race, through an unexpected visit from a thoughtless relative, and you’d have to wait until the Sunday paper to get the result.

If I’d suggested to Mum that she could find the placings on Twitter, seconds after they crossed the line, she’d have scolded Dad for giving me sips from his large bottle.

Who would have thought things could change so much? From crackly transistor, to world racing in the palm of your hand.

I now have an i-phone. Yes, I’m the last person on the planet to have made the change. And what a change it is.

Multiple betting sites are a tap away. Anywhere in the world. They will take my money, with another tap.

What’s more, I can actually watch races live, on my phone. Sitting on the bus, or the ferry. Or the toilet. With a tap.

There they are, running around Randwick, or Doomben, or Hollywood Park, and I’m not missing a second. On the same device that I can talk to my girls on, and use as a torch. Yep, it does that too. Who thinks of this stuff?

I should add here, for the benefit of any media company financial officers who may have stumbled across these pages, that I will never actually use such a feature on the company phone. I am fully aware of the contract involved, and there is absolutely no need to check my records each month.

No wonder administrators are having trouble keeping up. This new breed of racing fan is so tech-savvy, they expect nothing but the best when it comes to accessing our sport.

And they have zero patience. Don’t give them what they want, and they’ll be gone. To the next smart sport, that provides better online ways to have a punt.

Sadly, I’m unable to offer any help. I’m struggling to make a phone call on the bloody thing. And I don’t know how to retrieve voice mail. Leave me a message, and I might get back to you next year.

But with any luck, I can watch them run around next time I’m at a school dance concert. Mum would be looking for that large bottle right about now.

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Dressing for success on Oaks Day. Fashion secrets to make any racing bum a winner.

June 2, 2012

I’m not one to notice fashion at the track. Good or bad. Mine, or anyone else.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy for you to get dressed up. Ditch the thongs and find some sensible shoes. But there are other things to concentrate on. Like finishing the day with bus fare.

Oaks Day is one of those great occasions, where lots of non-racing people head to the races. Stylish women who might not see a horse all afternoon. Refined men who toss the form guide away to get to the theatre guide quicker.

And that’s just fine. The fashion parades, and the young fillies and stallions, add to the fun.

Of course, we need to find the winner of the Oaks. Pretty clear-cut I reckon. But first, tips that are even more important. What you should be wearing.

If you’re lucky enough to be in a fancy box today, well done. You’ve obviously grovelled to the right people. The aim now is not to blow it, so you get another invite next year.

For the blokes, it’s pretty simple. Dust off your best suit. Iron a decent shirt. Check that you can do up the top button. Believe me, those collars shrink each year.

Never wear new shoes. Shine up your old favourites. Grab some comfy socks. You’re now set to sprint through the betting ring to snap up the best odds.

There’s another advantage to this strategy. If you have to walk home, branded one of the day’s great losers, at least you won’t get blisters.

Don’t wear a tie that has a cartoon on it, or a flashing light. No-one has ever had a successful day on the punt with Bugs Bunny hanging from their neck.

Unless you’re a member of a Royal Family, or you’ve just had scalp surgery, don’t wear a hat. Those close to you saying it’s a winning look, are secretly making a documentary on your worst fashion moments.

You might think that I wouldn’t dare give fashion advice to the ladies. And you would be right. Not that they would listen to me anyway. I have enough trouble remembering to put a belt on.

My Kiwi friends are not known for their sartorial elegance either. They’ll be required to check in their fleecy overcoat at the front gate.

What they do know, however, is how to train winners in the Queensland winter. If it’s a distance race, double your bet.

They’ll pinch the Oaks today. John Sargent has trained Quintessential to the minute. She’ll be saluting, with my Kiwi mate Damian Browne in the saddle.

A word of warning though. Go easy if it gets too wet. One of the few New Zealanders who doesn’t grow a leg in the mud. That could bring Miss Artistic into the picture. That’s right. Another Kiwi.

So there you have it. Everything you need to make the big day a success. Making money and looking good, all in one afternoon. Unless your tie is flashing. If it is, good luck with that walk home.

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Let the Magic begin. Why only racing’s bravest survive the Gold Coast’s biggest week.

January 7, 2012

It’s Magic Millions week. I hope you’ve been in training.

Seven wonderful days. Eight, if you joined them for the Sportsman’s Lunch at Northcliffe Surf club yesterday. Thank the Lord I didn’t know about that one.

Now, you need to forget all about those piddly one day racing events. Or the so-called Big Weekends. This festival of fun lasts a full week. Like that fancy one in Melbourne come November.

There are some highlights, that everyone will attend. The main race day of course. This time next week. Millions on the line, at a jam-packed Gold Coast Turf club.

The sale across the road attracts buyers from all over the world. Four unique days. Cashed up lovers of young thoroughbreds. Most of them will be wearing shorts.

Others will spend a few hours around the sale yard, enjoying cool drinks. There will be banter, and dreaming. Thinking of a winning purchase next year. I’ll be in that category.

True Magic Millions fans, however, have plenty more to do. No rest days. A survival of the fittest. With fresh tans.

Are you up for it? Of course you are. That’s the beauty of this week. Everyone is on holidays. Ready to play.

Today is Ladies Day at the track. A taste of things to come next weekend. With a tough eight race card.

The highlight is the Bat Out of Hell, a 900 metre scamper. I have never backed the winner of this race. Ever. Let’s move on.

Sunday and Monday are a little quiet. Good chance to inspect the yearlings at the sales complex. And for the girls, Monday’s ‘Magic in the Clouds’ luncheon is a must. Apparently.

Tuesday is when things gets hectic. Up early for the Barrier Draw, now being held at the beach. Good chance for a swim to shake the cobwebs off.

The Carbine Lunch starts at midday. At Jupiters Casino, of all places. Pat Welsh hosting. Don’t tell anyone, but he would actually pay them to do it.

Somehow, the party set must stay tidy, for the official launch that night. Invitation only. Mine must have been lost in the mail.

The boys get a sleep in the next day. Not the girls. They have to back up for a Sparkling Ladies lunch, at Palazzo Versace. Another must. Apparently.

Thursday is my favourite day at the sales. Day One. Always a buzz. The cool drinks will be icy, shared by some characters. Often into the evening.

The fairer sex get to show off their best headwear, at the Marriott’s Hats & High Tea. An annual favourite. I’ve been tempted to buy a fancy lid just to join them for a quality cuppa.

There’s a gala dinner on the Friday night. The rest of us will be doing the form. Trying to find some winners to pay for the previous few days.

Saturday is Race Day. The toughest will cross the road after the last, and finish things off at the sales. I’ve only ever made it that far once. Something about a false bid that caused a minor stir. I believe the ban might still be in place.

Is the week done? Who cares. That’s enough for most of us.

Let me know how you fare. If you make it to everything, I’ll push for some sort of award. Maybe a nice hat. It could be handy next year.

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