Part 18

II.

Betting on greyhound coursing, especially in connection with the struggle for the Waterloo Cup, run for amid the distraction and ditches of Altcar, is assumed to be gambling in excelsis. When a person backs a horse for a race, the event is decided, so to speak, in an instant; there may of course be a dead heat, but dead heats are sufficiently rare, and need not be calculated upon. When a man bets on the Derby, he is delivered from all suspense within three or four minutes after the fall of the starter's flag. But it is not so in the case of the dogs. On the average of the courses decided at Altcar, a brace of greyhounds will keep the bettor in suspense for six minutes or so, and when it is considered, in the case of a stake in which sixty-four dogs take part, six races must be run before the backer of a dog to win the Cup can receive his money, it will be sufficiently obvious that very long odds ought to be obtained against those dogs which take part in the struggle. Such, however, as a rule, is not the case, and sanguine men have been known to accept odds against a dog which had six races to run, which they would have indignantly refused against a horse which had only to run once to win or lose them their money. In the case of one Waterloo Cup the winning dog actually ran eight times before it was declared to be entitled to the Blue Ribbon of the leash. What, then, it will be asked, by those who are unfamiliar with the incidents of coursing, are the rate of odds given and taken on such occasions? And if the odds offered are false, what are the figures which would really represent the true chances of the animals competing in a Waterloo Cup sixty-four?

Some questions, as all the world is aware, are much easier to ask than to answer, and the question just formulated is one of them. If the form of the sixty-four dogs which are nominated for the Waterloo Cup was utterly unknown, the price of each could only, of course, be represented at what may be called a very long figure--say, for the sake of even counting, 100 to 1--and when the first round of the struggle was finished, and thirty-two of the dogs defeated, the odds, even in that case, against the thirty-two survivors of the first act of the battle should still be considerable, five rounds of the battle having yet to be contested. But as the form of the dogs had become known from what they had accomplished in the first course, it is vain to expect that 40 to 1 will be offered by any of the bookmakers--although it is fully that sum, and much more, against half the number--because as the event proceeds sixteen of the dogs must be beaten, and so on to the end of the stake; the sixteen victors will in time be reduced to eight, four, two, and one. The task which is originally set before the bettor on the Waterloo Cup is, as a matter of fact, to select out of a pack of sixty-four dogs that one which will in the end be declared victor, and it is assuredly no easy task even to persons who are familiar with the previous performances of the animals. In dog races as in horse races, the favourite sometimes wins--and the Waterloo Cup has been taken more than once by the same animal--the winner on the second occasion starting at pretty short odds. Master McGrath, a dog belonging to the late Lord Lurgan, won the Cup three times, whilst the successes of Fullerton have been recently chronicled.

It is impossible to tell what may happen to dogs in such a struggle as the Waterloo Cup. Some which have previously shown good form in other coursing matches, even on the same ground, prove worthless while the battle of Waterloo is being fought, going down before, perhaps, a foe of no fame in the very first round. Even the very best greyhound must have good fortune on its side to achieve such a victory; it must, too, be in the best of health, it must get well away from slips, and be slipped against a lively hare, and then it must do all it knows to beat its opponent. A judge is appointed at all coursing meetings in order to decide which is the best dog in every pair that is slipped. He judges after a given fashion by awarding to the runners the "points" which they make, the dog which makes the greatest number being declared the winner of the course.

To those who are not "up" in the mysteries of coursing a brief explanation of the mode of judging may be given. Great powers are invested in the judge; what he says is law, and from his decision there is no appeal. The brace of dogs being in the slips are let loose by the slipper "at" a hare, which he runs them on to, so that they may see it. The speediest dog from the slips will receive one, two, or three marks, as the judge may determine, the number given being dependent on the opinion he may form of the race. For a "go-bye," the judge may award two or even three points. A "go-bye" is when a greyhound starts a clear length behind his companion, then passes him and gets a length in front. For turning the hare one point is given; for a "wrench," which means diverting the hare from its course at less than a right angle, half a point is awarded. For a "trip"--a trip is an unsuccessful effort to kill the hare on the part of the dog--one point is given by the judge. The killing of the hare obtains two points if it prove a very meritorious one. To the dog which, in its course, is awarded a majority of these marks the victory is given.

Critics and tipsters who attempt a week or ten days before the battle begins to point out the victor have a rather hard task set them, but on some occasions the winner is "spotted" with wonderful precision. As a matter of course, in dog prophecy as in predicting winners of horse-races, the tipsters either "follow the money" or depend on "public form" to pull them through.

Great complaints have been made in various quarters about the chicanery which in some years has been associated with the Waterloo Cup. Certain members of the committee are very jealous of the honour of this great coursing match being kept as free from any stain as possible; but those who have carefully studied the incidents of the great Altcar gathering are perfectly convinced that there is in connection with it, to designate it mildly, a good deal of "finessing": and a large amount of the gambling element has long been a most prominent feature of the meeting. In some years plenty of wagering takes place. The Waterloo Cup being set for decision at a season of the year when much horse-racing cannot take place, and when betting on horse-racing is not at all brisk, commands the speculation of the moment, and gives rise in consequence to a vast amount of gambling. As a popular writer on the turf says, the dogs give occasion for "one of the biggest gambles of the season."

So long as the Cup is constituted as at present, this game of speculation will continue. The gentlemen who have subscribed to the stake do not require to nominate the dog they intend to run till the evening preceding the first day of contest. It is obvious, therefore, that by this plan of procedure there is room for any amount of "manœuvring," and that a nomination may be backed to win perhaps £20,000 at pretty long odds, while in the end a dog may be named to fill it which, had its name been known, would have caused the nomination in which it was to run to become first favourite. This will be better explained by imagining that the present year's winner will be able to run again next year; if so, and the nomination in which it is to run be made public, it will assuredly be backed at a very short price, say 7 or 8 to 1, long before the night of the draw; indeed, the moment betting begins, which is usually about the middle of January or earlier, it will figure in all the lists as "first favourite." But supposing the dog were next year to belong to a gambling owner, he would never be a party to its running at any such odds as has been indicated; he would want most likely, for the benefit of himself and friends, to back the animal to win some £20,000, and the longer the odds he could obtain the less risk he would have of losing money; therefore, he looks about him to find some gentleman possessed of a nomination but without a dog good enough to run in such an important stake as the Waterloo Cup. That gentleman's nomination may be quoted in the public betting at 50 or 66 to 1, so that if it can be arranged that he shall run the dog, a large sum of money may be won (in the event of victory) at excellent odds as prices are now arranged.

This sort of thing has occasionally taken place, some of the tactics employed being scandalous enough; but where there is gambling there must in time be scandal. Large sums change hands over this great dog contest, because, in addition to the "long odds" against a dog winning the stake right out, there is an immensity of speculation on every separate course, when the "short odds" are taken against one dog beating the one which goes to slips with it. Probably there will be five or six thousand persons present at the contest busy betting on every course, and in this way, in the course of the three days during which the battle wages, many thousand pounds will certainly change hands.

Prizes are provided for the thirty-two dogs which are beaten in the first round of the Cup; these are the Purse and Plate, on which (locally) a vast amount of betting also takes place. No calculation of the amount of money which changes hands or is betted on the great Altcar contest has ever been made. It has, however, been more than once publicly stated that a Waterloo dog can be, and has been, backed to win a sum of £40,000 for behoof of its owner and his friends and followers, while it is often enough the case that dogs hailing from some populous locality, dogs which have a name, are entrusted with the sovereigns of four or five thousand persons. It would be no exaggeration to say, generally, of the Waterloo Cup that probably a dozen out of the sixty-four dogs nominated will be backed on the average to win (at the long odds) £25,000 each, whilst ten may be entrusted with the odds to win some £10,000, making for these dogs a sum of £400,000, which has been laid at various rates of odds, and it may be taken that the other forty-two dogs will be backed before the contest is over to win £100,000. Only one dog, of course, can win, so that as a rule bookmakers should be largely in pocket, especially when most of the favourites are beaten in the first round--no improbable event; other animals then come into prominence and are heavily backed. A provincial bookmaker, who never betted to more than pound stakes, told the writer that on the first two days of Snowflight's year (1882) he gained a clear profit of £279, and being quite pleased, stopped business and contented himself the last day with looking on at the gambling of others, and so making his visit to Altcar a profitable and pleasant holiday.

Two thousand people, it is averred, will each bet, on the average, £1 over every course which is run at Altcar, which, on the Cup alone, would represent in stakes alone a sum of over £125,000. These figures--they are but rough calculations at their best--may be taken for what they are worth, as affording an index of the gambling which is incidental to the modern "Battle of Waterloo."

Apropos to the name "Waterloo" Cup, it may be mentioned that it is not at all of heroic origin; as a matter of fact, the stake originated in the Waterloo Hotel, at Liverpool, which has long since disappeared, its site being included in the buildings of the central station. This hotel was in its day a hostelry of some degree of fame and a choice resort of the coursing fraternity. In that house, then, in the year 1835 the stake was originated, and run for in the following spring for the first time, eight dogs only taking part in the contest, the winner being Melanie, a dog belonging to Mr. Lynn, the landlord of the house. Such was the origin of the present great Altcar contest. At first an eight dog stake, it speedily became one for sixteen and then for thirty-two greyhounds. In 1857 the Waterloo Cup reached its present dimensions, and has ever since continued a sixty-four dog stake.

III.

Many who desire to become rich with rapidity think the turf a smooth road to fortune. Every few weeks an appetising paragraph "goes the round," telling the world that another fortune has been won on the racecourse, that Mr. So-and-So has "landed" £25,000 by the victory of a horse in one of the popular handicaps! Such an announcement excites the cupidity of hundreds, and so a rush takes place to back many horses for the next important struggle. Very few who try succeed; fortunes, they soon find out, come only to the fortunate, and in time many of the eager fighters for the favour of the blind goddess find themselves hors de combat, and then retire disgusted from the arena. A few doughty combatants fight on in the hope of ultimate success, one of them, perhaps, to find, after many days, that he has become enriched during the struggle.

Some who think themselves wiser than their fellows come early to the conclusion that the indiscriminate backing of horses, or even tipsters, or newspaper selections is a blunder, and so resolve to try a "system," feeling sure that by speculating on a well-defined principle they must make money. In due time the cleverest think out for themselves or are put on a plan by some friend, which is morally certain to prove successful. It may be one of the many systems known in connection with turf speculation, "following the favourites," or backing one's own fancies, or it may be the following of jockeys.

To back the horses ridden by certain jockeys has for years past been one mode of speculation on the turf. It was first brought to the notice of the public by a Mr. John Denman, who acted for a time as a racing commissioner, and who maintained (he published an elaborate essay on the subject) that it would prove profitable to back horses ridden by men who were always winning.

In persistently following Barrett, Watts, Woodburn, Canon, or Loates, or any other jockey, the plan of putting down a given sum on each mount, win or lose, may be adopted, or a particular jockey may be followed in sequences of six or seven trials, or even a lesser number at pleasure, the stake being doubled on each occasion of a loss, till the end of the sequence, and in cases--no uncommon occurrence--of a sequence running out before a win has been secured, beginning again. There are many, some even well versed in turf affairs, who probably think it almost impossible that Loates, Canon, or Barrett or some equally clever horseman, could be unsuccessful for seven consecutive turns; but should the jockey selected prove unsuccessful even four times running, and then at the fifth trial score a win, the very meagre price usually offered against a popular rider proving victorious--indeed, the horse entrusted to him very often starts with odds betted on it--renders the winning account, on most occasions, anything but profitable. It is not sometimes a very easy matter to invest a large sum on a comparatively small race, and in connection with the mounts of the more popular jockeys the investment of £320 would not often cover previous losses; it might happen on occasion that £100 would require to be risked to win £30, so that in the event cited a loss of over £224 would be sustained on the run of six non-successful mounts in the sequence, and it is needless to say that a series of such misfortunes would speedily exhaust a pretty well-filled bank.

To the uninitiated in turf mysteries, for whom this book is more immediately intended, it may be necessary to explain that a "sequence" may be arranged to extend over any number of mounts from two to twelve, or even a greater number if that were practical, which it is not, because in such case the sum to be invested could not be "got on," it would have become so large. The sum fixed upon as a stake may be for any reasonable amount from £1 to £20, only it is not desirable to fix it at a very large amount for the reason just given--it would swell to an unmanageable size. Taking £5 as a representative sum, it will be seen that before the seventh trial, should the six previous efforts have failed, a smart sum of money will have been expended--the following amounts, in fact: £5, £10, £20, £40, £80, £160, or a total of £315. The next stake invested, in the event of none of the six having proved fruitful, would amount to £630, and if that also should be lost, it would, of course, swell the total. On the other hand, £630 invested on a race at 2 to 1, would yield a return of £1,260, and thus, after deducting the money lost, yield a capital profit.

The vicissitudes experienced from time to time by backers of horses would, if related at length, fill a volume. Many anecdotes are in circulation of men who have been ruined by backing horses, as well as of others to whom the turf has proved a stepping-stone to fortune. I remember when there used frequently to be recorded a suicide over the Derby, which was said to be the result of losses sustained over that highly popular race, but such narratives were usually taken cum grano salis. It is not over such races as the Derby that the common run of backers come to grief, because that race does not present such favourable opportunities to speculators as the popular handicaps.

The Derby is a race for which the general public evince much partiality, and on which a large number of persons who never bet on any other race risk a sovereign. Professional bettors, of course, bet on the result of the Derby as they do on all other contests; but the "form" of the horses which take part in the struggle having generally become well known, there is not the same temptation presented to speculators as in some other events where the odds obtained are more liberal. On the other hand, some men prefer to back the favourites for such races as the Derby and Oaks, being contented with the twos to one and sevens to four which can be procured from the bookmaker; but persons who like the twenties, thirty-threes, and forties, which can often be obtained against handicap winners at some period before the race, do not readily accommodate themselves to the large expenditure involved in accepting small odds. I remember a well-known betting man who is a keen hand and speculates in large amounts, taking £2,000 to £1,000 that Bend Or would win the Derby, and every person knows what a very narrow squeak he had for his money. The same person, incited by his success in backing the winner of the Blue Ribbon of the Turf, backed Versigny to win him £2,000, and by doing so required to risk about £1,200, so that he had only £800 of his Derby gains left, a portion of which was lost over Master Kildare in the Gold Cup.

The person here alluded to, who is well known by his nickname of "Public Form," is a very heavy bettor, putting down at three out of every four of the race meetings which are held stakes of from £50 to £200 on even the smaller races, whenever in fact he thinks he has got hold of what is called "a good thing." In some seasons "Public Form" has been very successful, although from the state of the odds against the horses which he backs he seldom "lands" a big win; but if he thinks the chance an extra good one he will not scruple to give odds, but will put down £700 to win £400, or he will take even money against the chance.

It will be obvious enough that a person betting such large sums runs heavy risks, more especially as he so seldom goes for big odds. Risks, however, are comparative, and it should be easier, therefore, to realise a 7 to 4 chance than to obtain a win when the odds are at the rate of 66 to 1; in the latter case the bettor only requires to risk £15 to win £1,000, while in the former case to win a similar amount a sum of nearly £600 will require to be risked. Some bold spirits on the turf, when they think the opportunity has befallen them, "down the pieces" in the most fearless manner, or rather they go in for big money at the risk of those who will give them credit. On some occasions a lucky coup will be made that may prove to be the precursor of good fortune. A man may bring off a double event or may win a few hundred pounds over a handicap, and so be able to inaugurate a successful career on the turf. On the other hand, a person may bet for a season with all his might, and with fair knowledge and experience, and lose more than another man may pocket. Numerous instances of such being the case might be cited. It is not long since the sporting journals related the downfall of a backer who in one season made a tolerably nice little fortune by backing the mounts of the chief jockey. In a few months the thousands which that person had realised had taken unto themselves wings and flown away, and so he became "broke," like similar speculators.

There are, however, men on the turf at the present moment who are worth money, and who earned what they possess by betting. The persons here alluded to have proceeded on the lines that "small fish are sweet," and have been contented with modest profits, taking care to keep carefully what they gain. "Old Thatchem," who is the happy possessor of a whole village in a well-known racing county, made all the money with which he bought or built his houses at the race-meetings held in his own shire. His first bit of luck--he was then a day labourer--was in realising a bet of £10 to 10s. on Princess for the Two-year-old Stakes at Doncaster, in 1843. A sum of £10, forty years ago was thought by a labouring man to be "money," and such was the opinion of "old Thatchem." Not a penny of the £10 was parted with till next year, when a sovereign invested on Kedge for the Champagne Stakes doubled the sum, whilst £2 invested on Bee's Wing for the Gold Cup added £16 to the hoard. In three years the old man was worth a cool hundred, which he invested in the purchase of a house. His ambition being stirred, he continued his careful and successful career, and soon became an adept at his business; not that he was always successful; oh, no, many a time he felt the frost of speculation; on such occasions, like a prudent general, he wisely desisted from business for a brief period that his luck might have room, as he was wont to say, to turn itself round.

By way of contrast to this prudent Yorkshireman, take the case of a young fellow who a good many years ago flashed upon the turf like a meteor. Winning £300 when Caractacus won the Derby, he followed up his success at Epsom by bagging a large amount at Ascot, and the like good fortune attending his efforts at Goodwood, at the end of the year he left off with an addition to his bank account of £2,700. Extraordinary to relate, he was equally successful in the following year, but a change of fortune overtook him at last, and from being a swell of the first water, constantly in luck, always feasting on fat things, he gradually fell and fell till, in a few years, he was glad to earn a shilling or two at race meetings by acting as a peripatetic tipster. Many stories of a like kind are doubtless known to persons who are acquainted with the ever-changing incidents of our race meetings.

Apropos to betting for cash, one of the most singular utterances that has ever appeared against the "principle" of betting for ready money is that of Mr. William Day, published in one of the monthly miscellanies, and in which he describes that mode of betting as a "pernicious system," as "the greatest pest of society, the current evil of the day." Further, Mr. Day says the practice of ready money betting is "a blot on the nationality of every Englishman!" Unfortunately for himself, Mr. Day stultifies his own arguments against ready money betting by his advocacy of the Pari-mutuel plan of backing horses, which is a ready money system of betting par excellence, the adoption of which Mr. Day thinks would put a stop to reckless speculation, as, indeed, would ready money betting conducted through the medium of the bookmakers (who ought to be licensed).

The writer of these pages, as is obvious enough, is quite of the same opinion as Mr. Day, that "so long as a man can go into the ring and bet his untold thousands upon race after race, not having as many hundreds to pay his losses with, so long as he can find usurers to supply him with the needful to be paid on the Monday after, then so long, too, will he continue to bet, little caring what he pays for the convenience; as things are he is compelled to raise funds to save his credit and his respect among his aristocratic associates, but in the other case (of Pari-mutuel betting) there would not be such pressing necessity for him to have the money."

A very excellent reason was recently given for the adoption of a ready money system of betting by one of the "big bookmakers" of the day; it was pithily expressed to a gentleman who was complaining of the small odds now laid to bettors. "Look you," said the layer of the odds, "I have thirty-three per cent. of bad debts to contend with every season, and so have some of my friends. When we have ready money betting there will be no bad debts, and the odds will then extend by twenty or thirty per cent." An extension of the odds, say all backers of horses, is certainly much needed; of late years prices have been growing small by degrees and beautifully less.

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