The Punter's Eye - Cheltenham Week In The Bookies

Cheltenham week, and the experts, the dim and the dopey rush through the doors of the local bookies shop, and why? Because they’ve got a tip, a hunch, a fiver, a chance. The hum of expectation hangs on the now fanned air of the shop floor, and the unflappable anticipation of victory peters out with a fall, a stumble, a dodgy jockey, and the inconceivable ‘donkey’ he rode in on.

Students flood in, Mothers ask questions of taking odds, businessmen loosen their ties and the weight of their wallets, eating a sandwich, catching a race on their lunch break. Snubbing the intrusion of the strangers, the usual punters accumulate on the lower chairs, chewing on the tips in The Star, The Irish Field, The Racing Post, and with them all mulled over, they sit none the wiser with a case having been made for every horse in the ‘big one’. They take issue with the newcomers, and stand, tapping their feet impatiently behind the clueless young fella waiting to place a bet, and share the same few words with the young, uninterested girl behind the glass.

One of those days?

Horses circle at the post in the three o’clock, and the anxious old men circle each other, cursing the trainers and jockeys before a fence is tackled, fearing the loss of their precious few bob. As Ruby falls at the last, the carpet of the shop is decorated amply with crumpled betting slips. The aul lads scorn the celebrating students as lucky, because the ‘smart money’ was on Ruby, and they take comfort in that. The fences are too big after all, and sure wasn’t the ground a bit soft for him, over-watered by the English.

With the lads a couple of quid down, the intruders disperse following the last at Cheltenham, but they are sticking around to chase losses in the evening meetings, in places as glamorous as Kempton and Newcastle. Now that the lads can concentrate, and can actually hear their ears, the winners will fly in, and Paddy Power will fly off the handle at all the money he’s lost. The evening meetings come and go, and the betting slip carpet is thicker still, but the aul lads’ spirit is unshaken; “Jaysus, I’ll tell you one thing, and I won’t tell you two things, I fancy Ruby in the big one tomorrow.” “Same here, sure he won’t be beaten.” Nothing surer!

Chin up pal!