How To Win Money At The Races

The Trouble with the Racing Tips is That—So Painfully Often—They Contradict Each Other

HEYWOOD BROUN

PERSEVERANCE, courage, acumen, unceasing vigilance, hard work and application are all required of the man who would win money at the races. He should also have some capital in easily marketable securities.

During his preliminary days at the university, the man who would win money on the races should specialize in sciejice. It will be quite impossible for him in his later career to tell whether his selection was beaten by a nose or a head, unless he is absolutely familiar with the bone structure of the horse (Equidoe), (Ungulate), (E. caballus). In freshman zoology he will learn that, at the highest, the teeth number forty-four, and that the horse as a domestic animal dates from prehistoric times. This will serve to explain to him the character of the entries in some of the selling races.

Geology will make it possible for him to distinguish between "track —slow" and "track—muddy". The romance languages need not be avoided. French will enable the student to ask the price on Trompe La Morte without recourse to the subterfuge of, "What are you laying on the top one?" In spite of the amount of science required, the young man will find that he has small need of mathematics. A working knowledge of subtraction will suffice.

Heeding Mr. Hindoo

AS has been well said in many a commencement address, college is not the end but merely the beginning of education. The graduate should begin his intensive preparation not later than twelve hours before going to the track. He will find, that the first edition of The Morning Telegraph is out by midnight. Hindoo's selections are generally on page eight. I have never known the identity of Hindoo, but there is internal evidence pointing toward President Harding. At any rate Hindoo is a man who has mastered the pre-election style of the President. His good will to all horses, black, brown and bay, is boundless.

In studying Mr. Hindoo's advice concerning the fourth race at Belmont Park last week, I found, "Captain Alcock—Last race seems to give him the edge". If I had gone no further, my mind might have been easy, but in chancing to look down the column I noted, "Servitor—Well suited under the conditions"; "Pen Rose—Plainly the one that is to be feared"; "Bellsolar—May be heard from if up to her last race". On such minute examination the edge of Captain Alcock seemed to grow more blunt. "Neddam", I discovered, "will bear watching", and "Hobey Baker may furnish the surprise". To a man of scientific training such conflicting testimony is disturbing. What for instance would the world have thought of the scholarship of Aristotle if, after declaring that the earth was spherical, he had added that it might be well to have a good place bet—at two to one—on its being flat.

As happens all too often in the swing away from science, mere emotion was allowed to rush in unimpeded. Turning to a publication called The Daily Running Horse, I found the section dealing with the fourth race to be run at Belmont Park and read, "Captain Alcock is a nice horse right now". That settled it. All too seldom in this world does one find an individual who has the edge and still refrains from slashing about with it and cutting people. Captain Alcock was represented to us as "nice" in spite of the fact that he was "in with a second rate lot", as The Daily Running Horse went on to state. Later it seemed to us that the boast was in bad taste, but this factor, which we recognized immediately after the running of the fourth race as groundless condescension, appeared at the time a rather fetching sort of democracy. Captain Alcock was willing to associate with second raters and didn't even mind admitting it.

Feminine Duplicity

HE price was eleven to ten, and after we made our bet the bookmaker revised his figures down to nine to ten. There was a thrill in having been a party in "hammering down the price". Soon we were to wish that Captain Alcock had been much less nice. Away from the barrier he went on his journey of a mile with a lead of two lengths. Next it was four and then five. His heels threw dust upon the second raters. Around the turn came Captain Alcock flaunting his edge in every stride. As they straightened out in to the stretch the man behind us remarked, "Captain Alcock will win in a common canter."

The Captain was content to do no such thing. Although in with second raters he remained a nice horse and he was willing to do nothing common even for the sake of victory. He began to ease up in order to become companionable with the field. Evidently he had felt unduly conspicious so far in front. Winning in a common canter was not cricket to his mind. He wanted to make a race of it while there was still time. And as the speed and the lead of Captain Alcock abated, down the stretch from far in the rear dashed the black mare Bellsolar. Suddenly I remembered the ominous words of Hindoo, "May be heard from if up to her last race." Evidently Bellsolar was up. Captain Alcock was carrying the business of being nice much too far. Before he could do anything about it, Bellsolar was at his shoulders. She did not stop for greeting, but dashed past and w»n before the genial Captain could begin sprinting again.

It was a bad day all around and largely so because of a neglect of the scientific method. Take the very first race for instance, "For three-year-olds and upward. Selling. Six and a half furlongs, main course", after examining all the selections and past performances, the consensus, and a marked program I had firmly made up my mind to bet on Stromboli. I suspected that he was very old, although the program discreetly said "aged" and let it go at that. It was a man I met who dissuaded me. He explained that Stromboli's legs were bad. It was doubtful, he said, if the horse could finish, let alone win. And he told me that he, that is Stromboli, was ten years old and named after an extinct volcano.

Still, I might have stuck to my logical deductions, if my friend had not mentioned Major Parke as a substitute. Even then the horses were parading to the post, and Major Parke stood out because he was the one coal black horse among a lot of merely brown ones. I never can see anything through field glasses, and so I like to bet on black horses because it is possible to identify them all the way around. White horses would be even better. There was a gray mare once called Herodias which stood out of a mass of running horses like the plume of Navarre. At the finish she stood out even more because the other horses generally ran away from her. Still it was fun to bet on Herodias because, from the very beginning, you could see by just how much she was losing.

The result of the first race can best be described in the terse manner of the chart, "Fin. V/2"

As a matter of fact, it was not until the next day that I appreciated just how much wisdom had been contained in 7'he Daily Running Horse, advice which I had neglected. Turning back to the first race I found, "Advised play— None, too tough". If the tipster had only kept up that pace throughout the afternoon all his followers would be winners at the track.