Horse handicapping exists on two levels.
One level is us against the horses.
The other is us against them.
We're the people making a bet.
They're the ones who know a little something that's not in the past performances.
Knowing something without making it public is not illegal. What's a trainer supposed to do, have the track announcer come over the loud speaker and say that the horse's foot was sore last time, but is a lot better now?
Inside information is taken as a perk. If you stay up late nights with a horse, you seem to think that you have a little something coming.
Going up against somebody who knows something is one of the perils of small-track handicapping, because there's so much to know, so many injuries and ailments from which to recover.
Knowing something is not a fix.
But it might be an edge.
Usually what's known is the horse is not as bad as it was last time.
Inside information shows up on the tote board in the form of a bet that doesn't make sense, a legitimate 30-1 horse that has been bet down to 10-1.
Seeing that inside money has been bet on a recent stiff is a handicapping element every bit as important as a fast workout. In fact, that's probably exactly what a $100 win bet on a horse off three 12th place finishes means, a quick run that didn't make the Form.
So in other words, once you have analyzed a race's numbers, that's only part of the contest, depending on where you are. Now you must watch the bets.
Money left on a horse to open the wagering is not what you would call smart money. More often than not, it's drunk money. A Bud-soaked hundred-dollar bill can make a plug 1-5 without having any meaning at all.
Horses that open shorter than should be the case don't bother me; horses that get short late sometimes have legs.
Somebody knowing something is not always a call to the ATM machine.
What if somebody dumb knows something?
Somebody dumb could know three or four things that nobody else in the world knows, and the horse still runs seventh.
Here's what I've noticed about money that comes from thin air: Smart money comes from smart people.
Real gamblers sometimes laugh at Quinellas. But Quinellas were made for covering 5-1 shots that should be 15-1. Horses backed by people who know something that's not on the Form usually run second. Perhaps this is the Lord's way of telling them that they should be better than that.
During a live meet several summers back, a friend and I once paid a college student to watch the tote board for unusual bets.
People who know a little something seem to fear being shut out.
So usually you'll have a couple of minutes to think about whether you want to top a bet from left field with a couple of bucks.
As they say on the midway, there's a winner every time.
Sometimes they win.
They got me the other night.
A horse was 10-1 on the morning line. It seems like some of the morning lines this season are being done by sons or daughters of the owners of the tracks. I have never seen so many terrible morning lines. But this one looked about right. The horse in question had been off more than three months and had one average work in the meanwhile.
The odds on it ticked down to 8-1 during the parade and didn't vary much one way or the other before the post.
The horse won and paid $22 and change.
The third choice ran second at about four bucks.
But the Exacta was only in the forties.
The prehistoric manner in which exotic payoffs are made available makes a person think about taking his money to the Keeno table, where at least you usually get to look at a short skirt.
If somebody who thinks that he or she knows something actually does know something, and if he or she hits the All button on the Exactas, here's hoping the 10-1 winner was named same as your cat and you got a share.
Sometimes you have to work so hard for a winner, you arrive home looking like you were run over by the field in the last race.
http://espn.go.com/horse/columns/misc/1561131.html
One level is us against the horses.
The other is us against them.
We're the people making a bet.
They're the ones who know a little something that's not in the past performances.
Knowing something without making it public is not illegal. What's a trainer supposed to do, have the track announcer come over the loud speaker and say that the horse's foot was sore last time, but is a lot better now?
Inside information is taken as a perk. If you stay up late nights with a horse, you seem to think that you have a little something coming.
Going up against somebody who knows something is one of the perils of small-track handicapping, because there's so much to know, so many injuries and ailments from which to recover.
Knowing something is not a fix.
But it might be an edge.
Usually what's known is the horse is not as bad as it was last time.
Inside information shows up on the tote board in the form of a bet that doesn't make sense, a legitimate 30-1 horse that has been bet down to 10-1.
Seeing that inside money has been bet on a recent stiff is a handicapping element every bit as important as a fast workout. In fact, that's probably exactly what a $100 win bet on a horse off three 12th place finishes means, a quick run that didn't make the Form.
So in other words, once you have analyzed a race's numbers, that's only part of the contest, depending on where you are. Now you must watch the bets.
Money left on a horse to open the wagering is not what you would call smart money. More often than not, it's drunk money. A Bud-soaked hundred-dollar bill can make a plug 1-5 without having any meaning at all.
Horses that open shorter than should be the case don't bother me; horses that get short late sometimes have legs.
Somebody knowing something is not always a call to the ATM machine.
What if somebody dumb knows something?
Somebody dumb could know three or four things that nobody else in the world knows, and the horse still runs seventh.
Here's what I've noticed about money that comes from thin air: Smart money comes from smart people.
Real gamblers sometimes laugh at Quinellas. But Quinellas were made for covering 5-1 shots that should be 15-1. Horses backed by people who know something that's not on the Form usually run second. Perhaps this is the Lord's way of telling them that they should be better than that.
During a live meet several summers back, a friend and I once paid a college student to watch the tote board for unusual bets.
People who know a little something seem to fear being shut out.
So usually you'll have a couple of minutes to think about whether you want to top a bet from left field with a couple of bucks.
As they say on the midway, there's a winner every time.
Sometimes they win.
They got me the other night.
A horse was 10-1 on the morning line. It seems like some of the morning lines this season are being done by sons or daughters of the owners of the tracks. I have never seen so many terrible morning lines. But this one looked about right. The horse in question had been off more than three months and had one average work in the meanwhile.
The odds on it ticked down to 8-1 during the parade and didn't vary much one way or the other before the post.
The horse won and paid $22 and change.
The third choice ran second at about four bucks.
But the Exacta was only in the forties.
The prehistoric manner in which exotic payoffs are made available makes a person think about taking his money to the Keeno table, where at least you usually get to look at a short skirt.
If somebody who thinks that he or she knows something actually does know something, and if he or she hits the All button on the Exactas, here's hoping the 10-1 winner was named same as your cat and you got a share.
Sometimes you have to work so hard for a winner, you arrive home looking like you were run over by the field in the last race.
http://espn.go.com/horse/columns/misc/1561131.html
