Fitzdares Times | issue 7

N O M I N AT E D H O R S E R A C I N G B O O K M A K E R O F T H E Y E A R • F I T Z D A R E S. C O M • S E V E N T H E D I T I O N , C H R I S T M A S 2 0 1 7 • S T R I C T LY N O U N D E R 18 s

DIARY Fireworks in the corridors of power

CHILLS & THRILLS The art of skeleton sliding

BY GUIDO FAWKES

BY CLIFTON WROTTESLEY AND LIZZY YARNOLD

TOP TEN ‘Pricewise’ Tom Segal on his best ante-post tips ever

OSCARS TIPS An inside track on outside chances

BY JOE HODGSON

Alex MacDonald investigates the data revolution behind the search for future superstars ootball, to use a cliché, has gone mad. This year we have seen a summer transfer window where Premier League clubs spent more than £1.5bn, smashing the record set in 2016.

Meanwhile, not satisfied with breaking the transfer fee record for Neymar, Paris SaintGermain obtained the services of arguably the world’s hottest prospect, Kylian Mbappé, for a loan to buy in the region of £165m.

Mbappé is 18 years old.

At this rate, players will soon be signed on the quality of their kick in the womb.

But has football really gone mad? Behind these seemingly rash signings of relatively unproven teenagers is the most rational, logical methodology: reams and reams of cold, hard data. Our era is one of ‘Big Data’, in which the amount of data on earth more than doubles every two years, but the mystery is how to use all these numbers.

As Chris Anderson and David Sally wrote in their seminal book The Numbers Game, “The datafication of life has started to infiltrate football.” Indeed, how long will it be before we look at football not just as a contest between two teams and managers, but as a battle between the respective brain

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trusts in the two analytics labs? All 20 clubs in the Premier League employ data analysts to make sense of this information.

Manchester City have 11 of them. Purists suspect that football has been taken over by ‘spreadsheet-wielding boffins’ who believe footballers can be ‘datafied’ into numbers, crunched and scanned for patterns.

The millions involved mean clubs look into every area of a young player’s life before putting pen near paper.

However, Woody Dewar, Under-18s coach at Manchester City, states: “All the top European coaches use statistics, but football is still a long way from being a science, it’s still an art. Data is having an increasing part to play in football; however, it is still a long way from being dictated solely by it.”

Data can be used to effectively narrow down the search for potential ‘wonderkids’ based on key performance indicators (KPIs) such as physical size or pass completion rate, before scouts are sent out to watch them. If there is one shining example of

meticulous data and stats harvesting, one name rings out: Sports Interactive (SI), the team behind the iconic Football Manager game franchise. The series is more than a faithful virtual simulation of football, it is an invaluably deep reservoir for its real-life counterpart. It is made by 1,300 scouts in 51 countries and boasts the largest database in football, of more than 350,000 active players, each with 250 playing and mental attributes. To put that into perspective, Manchester City (or the City Football Group, with its four clubs) have 40 scouts globally.

The pure accuracy with which SI has been representing a young player’s ability (and indeed potential ability) for 25 years is scary – often unearthing gems years before the real-life footballing world takes stock of them (think the teenaged Kompany, Aguero, Falcao, Robben, Ibrahimovic, De Bruyne, Bale, and of course Messi). Yet if you delve into the painstaking methods utilised by SI, and their deep data network, then it becomes less surprising. The fact that some of SI’s scouts and researchers have gone on to work as chief scouts for major Champions League clubs is a testament to their ability. They have

partnerships with top clubs, and managers admit to using the database to find players.

A man at the heart of SI’s analytics machine is Stephen Davidson, who offers insight into the way they, and clubs, identify football’s next big star. “Data analysis is most powerful when used as part of a larger portfolio of scouting,” he says. “Raw data, used intelligently, can help a scouting department focus on young players.”

However, “Whilst Mbappé and Gabriel Jesus may have appealed because of performances at young ages, clubs wouldn’t simply act because the data looks promising.” couting the next big star is all about building up as comprehensive a picture as possible of a person, and the millions involved mean clubs look into every area of a young player’s life before putting pen anywhere near paper, Davidson explains: “Previous form, evidence of the eyes, post-match analytics, social media, fan forums, biographical information, anecdotes from teammates, former coaches and staff at previous clubs, marketability, media persona, relationships, medical →

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02 → and family history, even information gathered from private investigators.”

Has the ‘datafication’ of young talent always been on the money? SI admittedly can’t always spot a late bloomer: they apologised to Harry Kane for his mediocre stats as a youngster (“we get 0.5 per cent wrong, you were one that we got wrong”).

“Predicting the future is a job for someone with a crystal ball,” says Davidson.

“We stress the importance of evaluating players not for what they might do, but for what they have already done. Some players’ developmental curves go up and some go down – what we’ve found is simply that current and past performance can contain within them clues to future performance.” hat about young, relatively unknown players’ mental traits and personalities?

These are clearly abstract and subjective concepts – yet ‘aggression’, ‘bravery’, ‘composure’, ‘determination’, ‘leadership’ and ‘teamwork’ are categories in the SI database. Davidson argues that we are “simply talking about different types of data. We try to rationalise, quantify and simulate individual personalities, morale, team chemistry and dynamics, and social groupings within clubs. Our researchers don’t just attend one game and report back, they’re present at every game of the season, watch training, and continue to track any changes in a player over years.”

At club level, Dewar describes a process that is less focused on numbers: “At academy level, Man City will send several people to watch a player several times before signing them, and if possible bring them in on trial. A player’s statistics are rarely discussed when debating whether to sign him, other than basic stats of goals, assists etc. Physical data will normally be discussed as these attributes are becoming more and more essential in the modern game, especially the Premier League.

“Statistics and data can’t account for a

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Roberto Martinez and Arsène Wenger are keen disciples of the data revolution

player’s character,” adds Dewar. “This is even hard to judge with the human eye. Instead, a prolonged amount of time spent with the player or reliable character references are used.” He explains that “it’s hard to gauge a player’s technical, tactical or psychological profile without actually seeing them play.”

Davidson reveals that “analysing data can save time and money by reducing the need to train, support, pay and move scouts to all corners of the world, and the insight gained through effective data can provide a balancing counterpoint to those more traditional subjective ‘gut-feelings’”. He assures us that “science and numbers have been a part of football for a long time.

Football is a winning game, and anything a team can do to increase their chances of victory will appeal.”

So, is the beautiful game now all a science and numbers game, replacing ageold scouting? The answer is a resounding no. Even in the informational age of football, Davidson believes the two actually complement each other: “The sensible scouting department will use player data simply as part of a much more complicated process, one that still involves old-fashioned scouting. Using performance data alone without actually seeing a player should give

you some idea of what to expect. But seeing that player and doing a comprehensive due diligence job is the best way to stack the odds in your favour.”

Dewar backs up this view: “Data analysis and the natural eye are used in tandem; statistics are used to support or challenge a scout/coach’s opinion, not to stand alone.”

Scouts then, need not fear the data revolution and the increase in analysts in football – it simply augments their work, rather than dictating it. Without those wizened prophets by the training pitch and in the stands, data would be just that – numbers. Interpreting data is an art more than a science, and football will never be reduced to a soulless set of calculations.

However, football is getting smarter, and any club that denies the power of data is at an enormous competitive disadvantage. As the punters say, the only stat that matters is the one in the top-left corner of the screen.

Except for all the others, of course. n

O U R T R I B U T E TO T H E B E S T B E T S A N D C O M P E T I T I O N W I N N E R S

TOP BETS – JUNE TO NOVEMBER FRIDAY 16 JUNE INVESTED £10 E/W YANKEE SELECTION Rivet @ 20/1 St James’s Palace Stakes Heartache @ 11/2 Queen Mary Stakes Coronet @ 12/1 Ribblesdale stakes The Tin Man @ 7/1 Diamond Jubilee Stakes

RETURNED £9,539.76 SUNDAY 23 JULY INVESTED £900 TRIXIE SELECTION Alexander Noren @ 11/8 Alexander Noren v Rickie Fowler Rory McIIroy @ 4/6 Rory McIIroy v Ross Fisher Henrik Stenson @ 6/5 Henrik Stenson v Dustin Johnson

RETURNED £19,402.50 WEDNESDAY 26 JULY INVESTED £200 DOUBLE SELECTION Inflexiball @ 9/2 20:20 Leicester Gavel @ 10/1 20:50 Leicester

RETURNED £11,900 MONDAY 31 JULY INVESTED £20 SUPER YANKEE SELECTION Almoreb @ 9/2 13:50 Chelmsford City Aljuljalah @ 100/30 14:50 Chelmsford City Paint @ 5/2 15:40 Bath Realtra @ 4/1 17:55 Tipperary Mesbaar @ 11/4 18:10 Wolverhampton

COMPETITION WINNERS WEDNESDAY 18 OCTOBER INVESTED £1,000 SELECTION Persuasive @ 20/1 Queen Elizabeth II Stakes

RETURNED £21,000 THURSDAY 19 OCTOBER INVESTED £1500 FOURFOLD SELECTION Samcro @ 1/5 14:05 Punchestown Ben Dundee @ 5/2 15:10 Punchestown Death Duty @ 1/2 15:40 Punchestown Felix Desjy @ 11/8 17:20 Punchestown

RETURNED £22,443.75 SUNDAY 22 OCTOBER INVESTED £250 YANKEE SELECTION Arsenal @ 4/5 Everton v Arsenal Roma @ 10/11 Torino v Roma Atletico Madrid @ 21/20 Celta Vigo v Atletico Madrid Tottenham Hotspur @ 6/5 Tottenham Hotspur v Liverpool

RETURNED £17,635.14 FRIDAY 27 OCTOBER INVESTED £10 COMBINATION EXACTA SELECTION Flying Pursuit & Perfect Pasture 15:35 Doncaster

RETURNED £3,711 FRIDAY 12 NOVEMBER INVESTED £50 E/W SELECTION Patton Kizzire @ 66/1 OHL Classic

RETURNED £4,225

MASTERS COMPETITION 1 Slapper Moyes £38,790 2 Fletch 2 £8,620 3 Famous Five £6,034 4 Goalhangers 1 £5,172 5 Pleasurebeach £4,310 6 Wimbledon RFC £3,448 7 Bardo 4 £3,017 8 Reggies Rebels 1 £2,586 9 Nethers £2,155 10 Chippers £1,724 11 Tek Swing £1,293 12= Sea Millions £969.80 12= Brexiteers £969.80 14 The Silver Fox £775.80 15 The Mashie Niblicks £603.40 OPEN COMPETITION 1 Straight Down The Middle £26,505 2 @Golfbore71 £5,890 3 The Leak Lizard £4,123 4 Gino £3,534 5 Trojan Warriors £2,945 6 Split691966 £2,356 7 Five Eagles £2,061.50 8 Three of a Kind 1 £1,767 9 The Pinnacle £1,472.5 10 Team Tricky Toooo £1,178 11 Kung Kung £883.50 12 Colins Balls £736.25 13 True Lies £589 14 Charlies Folly £530.10 15 Albatross Club 7 £412.30

RETURNED £10,468.33 Congratulations on some fantastic picks in 2017, you all know who you are.

France to win the Fifa World Cup EDITED, DESIGNED AND PRODUCED BY FITZDARES LTD

· © FITZDARES

2017

04 SPEAKER’S CORNER Dr Paul Hawkins OBE

FEAR OF FAILURE

ear of failure is well known to be an inhibitor to success both on and off the sports field. In my own sporting experiences, I typically play better against better opposition, when I am excited by success rather than scared of failure. Professional sports people are not immune: England vs Iceland is a recent reminder.

Off the field, while every entrepreneur will preach that “failure is part of the journey to success”, this way of thinking has not passed the tipping point of acceptance within most sports governing bodies. Multiple stakeholders, conflicts of interests and public first impressions all heighten the fear of failure and hence inhibit the rate of innovation. While clearly there are exceptions, my general experience is that most sports administrators are passionate about their sport, desire for it to do well, and are frustrated by the effort it takes to make even the smallest of changes. The bigger the sport, the harder it gets.

My Christmas offering is to suggest a process that will not only surface a large number of new ideas for how to progress a sport, it will also create an environment where it is easier to try them with less of the negative consequences of failing – the equivalent of telling the England team that they will go through whether they beat Iceland or not. It is a process close to my heart, as it is how Hawk-Eye started.

The idea is to promote an “Innovation Amnesty”, which encourages all stakeholders, including fans, to submit their ideas for making a sport better. To direct thinking, there can be specific problems that the process aims to address (e.g. equipment to reduce concussion), in addition to generic categories: game format,

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Most sports administrators are passionate about their sport, and are frustrated by the effort it takes to make even the smallest of changes.

equipment, coaching, fan experience, etc. Ideas are put online to be commented on and added to, and to spark new ideas. The commitment from the governing body is to filter and give feedback and celebrate all submissions and provide what is necessary to help the seedlings of the best ideas grow. This might be investment, access or just connections to the right people.

Most ideas will not be viable, so the level of expectation is lower and the cost of failure eliminated. It’s much harder to be critical of Mrs Cove from Manchester’s idea than Mr Coe from Monaco. Periphery benefits: it is very sponsorable and creates an opportunity for a deeper engagement with the core fan base. The other key ingredient is having an established environment to test ideas properly and get quality feedback for the benefits and unexpected consequences. University sport feels like a good place.

A few stocking-filler example ideas to kick off the Christmas pub brainstorm: In cricket, trial two innings, 25 overs per innings. A point for winning each innings and a point for winning overall. At amateur level, allow substitutes between innings to accommodate people who can’t play all day.

In Grand Slam tennis, have a ranking points event during the second week for everyone who was knocked out in qualifying and the first three rounds. This would nicely complement the junior and wheelchair tennis on the outside courts.

A rugby sin bin served by a number of laps of the pitch, rather than 10 minutes, so the player doesn’t get a rest, and the faster you go the quicker you come back on (my 10-year-old son’s idea).

In junior rowing, apply inflatable stand-up paddle-board technology, to make boats easier to store, transport and maintain.

Change the football law so it’s the middle of the ball that has to cross the line, making it easier for the referee’s human eye to determine a goal.

Amateur referees wear a GoPro-style camera to review their decisions, provide evidence of verbal/physical abuse to act as a deterrent.

A 10k athletics race where competitors start at equal distances around the track and are eliminated if they are caught by the person behind them.

A simple app that empowers parents to help coach their kids, even if they didn’t play the sport themselves.

y final “big present” idea is the one that I believe would have the biggest benefit to watching some sports – and is the one least likely to happen, predominantly because of the fear of failure. The accepted practice in sports sponsorship is that a company buys the exclusive rights within an industry category. This exclusivity is closely guarded – for example, all Sony employees were instructed not to use the word “London” in any external email during the summer of 2012, because Samsung was an Olympic sponsor.

The essence of sport, with which companies are trying to associate themselves, is that competition makes you better. Andy Murray does all he can to win Wimbledon by maximising his ability, not by trying to stop Djokovic et al from turning up. As a consequence, most sports sponsorship is irrelevant to the narrative and goes unnoticed. How many Olympic sponsors can you remember?

Using golf as an example, a more interesting sponsorship concept would be to “challenge” your industry rival as co-title sponsor: eg the “BMW vs Mercedes Open”. The CEOs from each company would make their player picks for the event, and the winning sponsor would be the one whose players did better. TV would have a new A vs B team narrative, which is what makes the Ryder Cup such a great event, and the sponsors would become relevant. The new competitive tension among the marketing activation would also be a catalyst for innovation, and would sharpen the minds of the various agencies – which company got the most Facebook likes, and so on.

For the “But what if we lost?” brigade, I offer you this: Oxford and Cambridge are widely accepted as the best two rowing universities in the UK because they compete against each other in a high-profile event. When I was at university, both Oxford Brookes and Imperial College were better, but no one knew it. Much better to be the BMW or Mercedes who embrace competition than the Audi who isn’t even at the race. So, for the CEOs and sponsorship execs, why not make your new year’s resolution to pick up the phone to your biggest competitor, and challenge them to a competitive joint sports sponsorship? And if not, then sponsor a sports Innovation Amnesty instead! n

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Dr Paul Hawkins OBE challenges convention. He invented Hawk-Eye, a leading Failure can drive even elite sports figures such as Serena Williams to breaking point

innovator in sports technology which has become an integral part of over 20 sports.

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06

Denis Mann recalls the time he died on his feet – and lived to tell the tale

HUMILIATION ON LANGLEY STREET his is a story about loss. I could fill a book with stories about loss. How much time do you have? This story is different, however. It tells a tale of the very worst kind of loss, the loss of nothing short of the Big Kahuna. Dignity itself. Now, I ask you: what heavier loss could there possibly be? This incident happened to me the better part of 30 years ago. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Over the years, I have tried very hard not to remember. I have even tried to pretend (at least to myself) that it didn’t actually happen, or that it happened to someone else. But it did happen. And how do I know this? Because I was there.

It was 1987 and I had recently graduated from drama school, which is to say 18 months at the City Literary Guild just off Drury Lane. Newly graduated, and with a new agent to boot.

I’d even had a moderate degree of success, including a shower gel advert. I was working as a croupier to supplement my meagre income and two or three mornings a week got a call to attend some or other casting – invariably held at one of the production companies in and around Soho. This time was different, however.

“Denis, I’d like you to attend a casting in Covent Garden this morning.”

“Righto. What is it?”

“Oh, it’s a lovely job. Three weeks in Japan.”

“Sounds great. Doing what exactly?”

“Well, you’d be out there with Dead or Alive. You know, just sort of with and behind them. Just get yourself along to the Covent Garden dance studio for 11 this morning. Don’t be late.”

He didn’t really answer my question, did he? My mind was a tad foggy at the time. It was early. But I wish I’d pressed him

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on that. I really do. Anyway, I arrived on time and had a good look around. There were 11 other blokes up for the job. I knew they were looking for two. Good – a fighting chance of sorts. Then something odd happened. A choreographer arrived. What was a choreographer doing there?

(He was in fact, that Italian dude from Strictly Come Dancing. You know the one, Bruno something or other, though this was way before he was a famous face on Saturday night tellies throughout the land.)

We traipsed upstairs to a dance studio – ballet bars, fully mirrored. Then something really odd happened. The band arrived. Pete Burns himself (sadly no longer with us, though very much with us on this particular morning). Eye patch, big hair, large as life. He and his cohorts plonked themselves down in the corner, clearly to watch. But to watch what? I started to get a very uneasy feeling indeed.

Bruno stood to the fore and addressed us, as flamboyantly as only an Italian dance choreographer can. I don’t remember word for word what he said, though I do remember one sentence, and three words of that sentence very specifically.

“OK. We are going to have you out, a pair at a time and watch you do your stuff.”

Stuff? What kind of stuff? I haven’t got any stuff. What can he mean? What can he possibly mean? It was all happening very fast. Lord alive, he must mean dancing. What else can he mean? This is not good. Not good at all.

I should stress that I am not the world’s worst dancer. I’m what most people would term ‘average’. You know the score: a few beers, a club. But this was starting to look like entirely different gravy. It was at this point that I engaged myself in the first of two bouts of serious self-delusion. Yes, I was about to

07 look like a total buffoon in front of these people. But then, so too were this lot. We were all in the same boat, right?

Wrong. Why? Because they were dancers. That is to say, the other 11 who were there. Proper dancers. And they were not even common or garden professional dancers, they were (as I later found out) professionals who had trained at the Ballet Rambert and the Royal School of Ballet… and had turned contemporary. So, yes. We were all in the same boat – in the way that a chimpanzee in a leaky tin bath heading into a storm off Cape Horn is in the same boat as Bill Gates aboard a 250ft superyacht and cavorting with a bevy of supermodels (nude, of course) in a Jacuzzi filled with Cristal.

I was summarily ‘paired off ’ (with a guy I saw about two weeks later in a Bananarama video).

“Can you dance, chief?” I actually asked him that. He looked at me with something approaching disbelief.

“Well… yeah!” came the disdainful reply.

“OK. Yes. Righto.”

Bob Dylan was right, you know: you don’t have to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

“So, OK!” says Bruno, “Let’s have the first two!” And with that, he put the music on. (“You spin me right round baby, right round, like a record baby right round…”)

Pair number one got up and started to dance. But the word ‘dance’ cannot vaguely begin to describe what it was they were doing. They were not, in any sense, dancing in the way a human being might, or might even attempt, to dance. Not even vaguely as a person who might stand out in a snazzy Ibiza nightclub as being something of a ‘sexy mover’ might dance. No. That would be to compare a Ferrari Daytona to an Austin Montego Turbo.

My mouth was beginning to water. A technicolour yawn threatened to give rise in the back of my throat. My heart beat wildly as my stomach turned cartwheels. You might reasonably at this point ask the question: why did you not just put your hand up and say, “Hey! I’ve been miscast! I’m not a dancer. I’m an actor! I shouldn’t be here!” I really don’t know. I wish I had an answer. The best I can give is that I felt like a rabbit stuck in the headlights of an 18-wheeled articulated lorry. A rabbit set for nothing less than a pancaked visit to the promised land.

Having finished wrapping their left ankles around their right ears and contorting themselves into shapes no human being should ever be expected to, there was nothing but silence.

Silence! Why? Why was everyone not cheering and clapping wildly? Why was not everyone standing on their feet and shouting: “Bravo! Bravo! That is the most amazing thing I have ever seen!” Furthermore, why was everyone now not waving the white flag and trudging sullenly toward the exit sign along with Michael Flatley and myself?

At this point, I should say that courage is not a quality for which I lack. I have parachuted from aeroplanes and hot-air balloons. I have stepped into boxing rings and engaged in all manner of adventures, not to say death-defying escapades. This notwithstanding, I now found myself gripped by fear. But, like a drowning man trapped in a preposterous bout of unfounded self-delusion, I grasped for the second and shortest, of my ludicrously short straws. Perhaps it’s just those two? Perhaps everyone else will be as bad as me? Perhaps everyone else is an actor in the wrong place and is shaking inside with the same stomach-churning terror at the prospect of following these twins Nureyev?

Up step pair number two. THEY WERE EVEN BETTER THAN THE FIRST TWO GUYS! Charles I of England was asked by a scribe of the day how it felt, knowing he was to be beheaded in the morning.

“It concentrates the mind wonderfully,” he apparently replied. You may draw your own parallel. Given the option, I might well have considered trading places with him.

Eventually, Bruno asked for… pair number four. I stood up and started ‘boogying around’ the floor like a demented wild man, like the total and utter moron I knew I looked. And at one point I glanced up. What a mistake.

There I saw myself, the leading man! Starring in my very own real-life nightmare. Here, on this bright summer’s morning with nowhere to hide, my head glowing red, like a belisha beacon. saw my ‘partner’ doing double takes of disbelief at what was occurring beside him. And at this point, I knew: it is simply not possible to die of shame. You would have read of it on the front page of the Evening Standard otherwise. The coroner’s report stated that the cause of death was, ‘shame’, arising and stemming from, ‘extensive loss of dignity’.

As the seconds (read ‘hours’) ticked by… and I concluded making a total and utter spectacle of myself, Bruno gave a brief clap of his hands. (You can take my word for it when I tell you that never has a brief clap so perfectly encapsulated the words “Don’t call us, we’ll call you”).

“Thank you very much,” he said (this while unable to keep the astonishment from his voice). Bastard. Eyes firmly fixed on the floor; I sat with my head between my knees: “I hope I never see any of these people again for the rest of my life”, “I hope I never see any of these people again for the rest of my life”, “I hope I never see any of these people again for the rest of my life”.

I didn’t get the job.

So what did I take away from this debilitating, demeaning experience, my worst ever loss?

Well not my dignity, that’s for sure. I left that languishing on the floor of that Covent Garden dance studio. I can only point to Italian maestro midfielder Andrea Pirlo. Pirlo is something of a philosopher and Renaissance man. Apart from looks, wealth and talent, I might suggest we have much in common. Pirlo’s AC Milan side, a team of global superstars, had led my beloved Liverpool by an unassailable 3-0 at half-time in the 2005 Champions League final in Istanbul.

But, having traded at odds in the region of 200/1 at half-time, Liverpool went on to win…

This as quoted directly from Pirlo’s autobiography: “There are always lessons to be found in the darkest moments. It’s a moral obligation to dig deep and find that little glimmer of hope or pearl of wisdom. You might hit upon an elegant phrase that stays with you and makes the journey that little bit less bitter. I’ve tried with Istanbul and haven’t managed to get beyond these words… For fuck’s sake.”

Welcome to my world, Andrea. Welcome to my world. n

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Denis Mann is a former soldier and actor who has run a casino in Moscow and worked at Aspinall’s before joining Fitzdares.

RED FACES ALL ROUND...

Blessing Okagbare-Ighoteguonor, Nigeria’s 2008 Olympic long jump silver medallist, had an unusual first attempt at this year’s Oslo Diamond League event. While she made it to about 6.50m from the board, her wig escaped from her head on landing and lay further back in the sand – reducing her distance to a moderate 6.21m. A bad hair day!

Martin Palermo’s international career with Argentina was seemingly over when he managed to miss not one, not two, but three penalties in a single game in the 1999 Copa America! Redemption came ten years later, though, when he scored a 93rd-minute winner against Peru to help Maradona’s Argentina towards World Cup qualification.

Wim Esajas would have been Suriname’s first Olympian in the 1960 Games in Rome. Alas, he was given the wrong starting time for his 800m race and slept through the event.

Following Wales’s win over Scotland in the 2010 Six Nations, Andy Powell was in the mood to celebrate. In the early hours, Powell drove a golf buggy down the hard shoulder of the M4 to a service station. He was arrested, dropped from the Wales team and banned from driving for 15 months after pleading guilty to the incident.

Powell originally claimed he had taken the trip in search of food, but he admitted years later that he was actually in search of cigarettes.

Jockey Blake Shinn showed a little more than he should have in a 2015 race at Canterbury Park in Australia. After his elastic waist pants slipped mid-race, Shinn gallantly continued, finishing in second place while also treating the crowd to an unexpected full moon (see right). Fittingly, the horse that came in third and thus had the best view of Shinn was called Modesty!

Back in 1929, the Rose Bowl was the biggest game in American football, so when a Georgia Tech runner fumbled and the University of California's Roy Riegels pounced on the ball, this was his chance to be a hero. Riegels pivoted and set off towards the end zone. His 60-yard sprint was ended when he was

tackled on the 1 yard line – by his own teammate! Only then did Riegels realise he had been running the wrong way, towards his own end

zone. On the next play UC’s punt was blocked, handing a safety and two points to Georgia Tech – who eventually won the game 8-7.

08

THE BROWNITE CABAL

David Cameron is an unlikely hero for the anti-fixed odds betting terminal (FOBT) brigade. Dave wasn’t so interested in whacking bookmakers when he was in office, but his defeat of Ed Miliband in 2015 was the seminal moment for the great gaming machine debate. If Miliband the younger had made it to Number 10, his Brownite clique would have ushered in a new era of roulette free-wheeling. We would have had Chancellor Ed Balls, famously old pals with Gala boss Neil Goulden. Balls’ ex-SpAd Gary Follis would be in government, rather than spinning for the Association of British Bookmakers. As culture secretary, Michael Dugher would have surely helped out his old chum Malcolm George, the betting industry’s foremost lobbyist.

Without the defeat of Miliband, the changing of the Labour guard and the rise of Jeremy Corbyn, a £2 maximum FOBT stake would have been beyond the wildest dreams of the bookie bashers. Instead Follis, Dugher and George were reduced to chancing their arm these past few weeks at lobbying parliamentarians over pints on the Commons terrace. “It was Dave wot won it. If Miliband had won, Balls and co would have killed it,” says an anti-FOBT man.

DIARY

by Guido Fawkes

RAISING THE STAKES

The first meeting of the All-Party Parliamentary Group on FOBTs set the tone for the triennial review. Chair Carolyn Harris told the room she would be holding a “select committee-style inquiry” to find evidence that a £2 stake was the way to go. “Hang on a minute, Carolyn!” thundered Tory Philip Davies. “I don’t know what sort of select committees you’ve been involved in, but we usually listen to the evidence before coming to a conclusion...”

The real trench warfare would take place on the political blogs of Westminster, where pugnacious activists paid for adverts machine-gunning their opponents.

The Campaign for Fairer Gambling dubbed the Remote Gambling Association the “Repulsive Greed Agency”, photoshopping CEO Clive “Horrible” Hawkswood as a representative of the undead on Halloween. The Stop the FOBTs group called the ABB the “Association of British Bloodsuckers” and accused it of spreading the “ABBola virus”. Things came to a head when the antiFOBT campaigner Matt Zarb-Cousin, Corbyn’s former spokesman, clashed with Malcolm George at the Labour conference. George accused his adversary of being funded by the casino industry, only for Zarb-Cousin to lawyer up in response. Play nicely, chaps...

CARTWHEELS ALONG THE CORRIDORS OF POWER

WHAT CHANGED WATSON’S MIND?

One old Brownite bruiser had something of a conversion to the cause. Tom Watson never seemed to care much about about gaming machines when he sat on the Culture, Media and Sport select committee inquiry into the Gambling Act in 2012. “He didn’t turn up to one evidence session,” recalls a fellow MP on the panel. Only a cynic would note the generous donations received by Watson from Derek Webb, founder of the Campaign for Fairer Gambling, who was more of a Lib Dem than Labour man when it suited him. Allies of Watson argue it was his former aide Adam Allnutt, a former betting shop employee, and a trip to Australia to meet anti-pokies campaigner Paul Bendat, that changed his mind. Whatever the reason, Watson soon became greatly excised about FOBTs and led Labour’s charge for change.

CALL IN THE LAWYERS

“I don’t know what sort of select committees you’ve been involved in but we usually listen to the evidence before coming to a conclusion…”

In truth you could count those scurrying to the chancellor’s office arguing the bookies’ case on one hand. Philip Davies and Laurence Robertson gave it their best shot, but the odds were stacked. There was no point trying to convince gambling minister Tracey Crouch, who had long signalled she was in favour of a clampdown. Nor could Theresa May’s occasionally puritanical former Chief of Staff Nick Timothy, still influential at Number 10, be lobbied to change his mind. Even Philip Hammond, despite the Treasury’s concerns about losing tax revenues, assured the Bishop of St Albans that he would take his letters into consideration. Treasury aide Chris Philp was unresistant, telling friends the money not handed to the bookies would be spent in the wider economy instead. Insiders predict the chancellor will raise taxes on other forms of gambling as he looks to balance the books.

BETTING THE HOUSE

And lo, Crouch announced that the government would consult on limiting the maximum FOBT stake to between £2 and £50. The word is both sides have been advised against seeking a judicial review of the eventual decision; they’ve been told they won’t succeed in challenging the process because it was so extraordinarily long and vigorous that no judge would order it to be rerun. Yet, as the lobbyists claimed victory, the bookies’ shares rose, with City analysts predicting a compromise of a £25 maximum stake. Are the photoshopping firebrands of the anti-FOBTs campaign celebrating too soon? n Guido Fawkes reports from the bowels of Westminster at www.order-order.com

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MY FINEST FILLY No horse brought quite as much joy to owner-breeder Robert Gibbons as Hunters of Brora

There are some racehorses’ names which resonate with the public and racing community long after their careers are over. Hunters of Brora is one of them. I started racing and breeding from our small family stud operation when I took over from my late father in 1970.

My first horse was trained by Paul Smyth, son of Vic Smyth, in the days when Epsom was still a major training centre and Burgh Heath Road was full of yards, not bungalows.

Paul and I had been at school together and he purchased for me a horse called Happy Escape, named after a near miss I had in a plane crash that year. Happy Escape was my first winner, at Warwick. Good fortune has helped me over the past 40-odd years to have more than 150 winners and as many placed horses. Given that I never have more than three or four horses in training at any one time and they are mostly home-bred, I like to think it is a good performance for a small owner-breeder.

Which brings us back to Hunters of Brora. I had the privilege for many years to be legal advisor to the Maktoum family. I was lawyer to Sheikh Rashid Al Maktoum, father of

Sheikh Mohammed and Sheikh Hamdan, and the late Sheikh Maktoum. It was in the mid-1970s that the young Sheikhs took an interest in racing, although I had taken their father to Ascot on one occasion. I used to talk a lot to them about racing as I raced Arab horses in Cairo. I had a horse called Matine, which turned out to be the Frankel of Egypt, and I was champion owner in 1974. The horse was unbeaten in 14 starts.

Their interest took off when they decided to start their own racing and breeding operations in the UK, and I helped start the process. For a number of years I was chairman of Sheikh Maktoum’s and Sheikh Hamdan’s racing operations.

When I was chairman of Gainsborough Stud, Sheikh Maktoum gave me a filly by Sharpo, bred by Gainsborough. The filly arrived in the spring at our stud at Lawers in Perthshire where I live, and we named her Hunters of Brora, after the Scottish woollen mill of which I was chairman at the time.

I am not in the habit of running two-year-olds. Hunters started her three-year-old career winning twice from six starts and placed twice during the 1993 season, trained by James Bethell in Middleham. From that beginning, we knew we had

something special, so there was anxiety when she developed a serious sinus problem. This affected her breathing and we thought it was the end of her career until she had a successful operation to remove the trouble. After some six months off, and under James Bethell’s skilful care, Hunters came back into great form and continued her career, earning £152,000 in prize money over six years.

October 1994 saw the start of some bad luck with Hunters. Under Richard Hills, she was coming in to win the Cambridgeshire, the winning post a furlong away, when along came Halling and that was that. Sheikh Mohammed told me that Halling was supposed to go to Dubai before the race and was never intended to run that day at Newmarket.

My bad luck. We took a chance in the Royal Hunt Cup at Ascot in June 1995 and came a good seventh. The ground really did not suit her; it was good to firm that day and she ran her best on good to soft.

Things did not go right for us again when we effectively won the Newbury Spring Cup in April 1997, with Darryll Holland on board, only to be disqualified. Under the old rule 153, the stewards found that Darryll had made a move which effectively interfered with the second horse. Standing in the paddock that day, waiting for the result as a Jockey Club steward having viewed the race again from the television screen, I feared the worst. I later took the matter up with the powers that be and the rule was subsequently altered, so under the new dispensation we would have kept the race, but that is all history. In my steward days, I always felt that a horse that got to the winning post first was the winner, and in more than 25 years of stewarding I think there were only two occasions when I was involved in a change.

Hunters’ finest moment was Doncaster in March 1998, when she won the Lincoln under a splendid ride from Jason Weaver. The large silver bowl I was presented on that day as a winner holds pride of place on our hall table. The only journal which had tipped her was Country Life, which provided readers with a photo as well in an article on the Lincoln prospects for the following week. Hunters also went on to win the Newcastle Gold Cup that summer.

We never seemed to be able to get listed, although Hunters’ racing career certainly warranted it and, coming home as a brood mare, she has done nothing but produce offspring nearly all of which have been winners, who in turn have produced offspring winners themselves. Her grandsons and granddaughters are well represented in the stud. For Hunters of Brora herself, she is enjoying life in retirement and acts as a great companion for her daughters and granddaughters. At 28, she remains in good health. n

DRAKES.COM

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EAU FOR OSCAR Not all monsters are welcome in Hollywood these days, but one might shock us all, says Joe Hodgson penned Molly’s Game. And don’t be at all surprised if you see Meryl Streep knocking around these parts again – she could garner her seven billionth nomination for The Post.

Another familiar award-hogger may also reappear in the Best Actor listings. Daniel Day-Lewis gathers Oscar nominations like most people gather debt and disappointment, so it’s likely he’ll feature in this season’s collection for his portrayal of a 1950s dress-maker in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Phantom Thread, although it has yet to be seen by human eyes.

But it looks, for once, as if his darned good effort will come apart at the seams – because everything seems to have been tailored to fit Gary Oldman on this occasion.

His interpretation of Sir Winston Churchill in Joe Wright’s drama Darkest Hour has wowed in all the right places, and he’s as due as they come after his many years of scenestealing turns. There should be no cause for fighting on the beaches or the landing grounds of Los Angeles following his speech.

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hange is afoot in Hollywood. As we begin our leisurely gallop towards the Academy Awards ceremony on 4 March 2018, everything somehow feels a little different. For starters, the voting pool has expanded – it’s now much more diverse. Online streaming services, such as Netflix, are beginning to land a few more telling blows on the major movie studios. And, as lurid stories and allegations continue to emerge from behind golden-starred doors, there is a burgeoning sense that the industry – and its old, unpalatable ways – are going to have to adapt if they’re to survive.

I’m also hearing rumours that the traditional pre-Oscars night comedy roast of Harvey Weinstein will be replaced by an actual roast, and passers-by will be able to prod him with a grilling fork as he rotates slowly over hot coals in a Sunset Boulevard shop window.

Perhaps partly as a result of the above, this also appears to be the most low-key start to awards season in ages.

At this stage last year, everybody was writhing on floor in violent paroxysms of screeching ecstasy over La La Land.

Until everybody actually saw it, that is.

And then they were quickly, and mercifully, sedated by its inescapable, soul-numbing blandness. But at least there was an initial buzz. The only noise that is being generated so far is the sound of someone shrugging their shoulders with vague indifference.

Can this situation be rectified?

Well, fortunately, yes it can. Because the good thing about not having early, runaway leaders is that there might actually be some genuine contests in a number of major categories this year.

The blue riband award of Best Picture is a prime example. Current predictions would have us believe that the favourite to win is Christopher Nolan’s war effort Dunkirk. But not only is it rare for a film released in the summer to still have momentum by the following spring, I also don’t see it chiming too emphatically with the current mood. Despite its technical innovations, Dunkirk is, at heart, fairly archaic fare and seems only to have been made in order to bag an award for its director (which it may well do).

I believe that significant competition will have emerged from the depths to challenge, and possibly sink, Dunkirk to claim the top prize come early next year: specifically, Martin McDonagh’s Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri, art-house

OSCARSODDS Will the awards flow for The Shape of Water and its (human) star Sally Hawkins?

Don’t be surprised if you see Meryl Streep knocking around these parts again…

BEST PICTURE

romance Call Me by Your Name, and Steven Spielberg’s unseen-at-the-timeof-writing journalism drama The Post.

However, buoyed by last year’s lastsecond curveball Moonlight, I think it could be an even odder fish that hooks the catch of the day in 2018. Which is why I’m stuffing all my sea-based analogies crudely into a metaphorical lobster pot for Guillermo del Toro’s bizarre aquatic love story The Shape of Water to win Best Picture.

The Best Actress category also appears to be very competitive and unpredictable. British actress Sally Hawkins is very likely to be nominated for her lead role in The Shape of Water, in which she plays a mute woman who falls in love with a sea monster (you see, I told you it was bizarre). Former winner Frances McDormand could land a second gong for her performance as a bereaved mother in Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri. There are good shouts too for last year’s winner Emma Stone as Billie Jean King in the timely Battle of the Sexes, and for Jessica Chastain in the Aaron Sorkin-

Dunkirk 3/1 The Post 4/1 Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri 4/1 The Shape of Water 5/1 Call Me by Your Name 8/1 BEST DIRECTOR Christopher Nolan (Dunkirk) 1/3 Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water) 100/30 Luca Guadagnino (Call Me by Your Name) 9/1 Kathryn Bigelow (Detroit) 20/1 BEST ACTOR Gary Oldman (Darkest Hour) 4/9 Daniel Day-Lewis (Phantom Thread) 5/1 Timothée Chalamet (Call Me by Your Name) 9/1 Denzel Washington (Roman Israel, Esq) 12/1 BEST ACTRESS Frances McDormand (Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri) 7/4 Sally Hawkins (The Shape of Water) 2/1

Continuing the theme of uncertainty, though, are the Best Supporting categories, where random names are being wafted around and blurted out as if being announced by Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway.

On the actress side I’ve heard talk of Laurie Metcalf (Lady Bird) and Allison Janney (I, Tonya) winning; and on the actor side garbled murmurings of Willem Dafoe (The Florida Project) and Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards). But the way things are going, Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson’s biceps might end up being nominated in both categories for their prominent role in the movie Baywatch.

On the morning of 5 March 2018, you may wish to dig out this column and point and laugh at all my naive mistakes and errors of judgement.

So, in response to you, I would just like to take this opportunity to say the following: I actually have no recollection of writing the above predictions. I wasn’t in the room when they were written. And I was very drunk when they were. In fact, I’m still drunk today. But if I did get anything wrong, I wholeheartedly apologise to all the parties concerned. It’s just that, in my sozzled state, I really, really liked the idea of a crazy-sounding film about a sea monster winning Best Picture at the Oscars. n

Emma Stone (Battle of the Sexes) 12/1

Joe Hodgson is a writer who blogs at

Meryl Streep (The Post) 14/1

www.fitzdares.com and tweets @fitzdares

LIFESTYLE MANAGEMENT

14 Two top skeleton sliders reveal the training secrets behind their success in this terrifying sport

curiosity as it looked quite exciting, so I had a vague idea of what it was like. I remember thinking, maybe I should give it a go. How many people can say they are an Olympian, after all?

After an unfortunate incident on the Cresta in the 1999/2000 season, I made up my mind. I called up the Brits that summer, and they suggested I go to a one-week skeleton school run by the military. Then I asked them to send me on a course run by the International Bobsleigh and Skeleton Federation – I did this

Lord Wrottesley finished fourth in the 2002 Olympic men’s skeleton

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came to skeleton relatively late in my sliding career. My background was always on the Cresta Run, where I was just making it into the top tier of riders in my late twenties.

I would describe the Cresta as agricultural, whereas skeleton is much more about finesse. On the Cresta you really need to heave, shove, and tug yourself down the track. Recently, I was hooked up to sensors that measured how much force a rider applies in steering, and the forces I was applying coming from the Cresta were ten times those needed for the skeleton. It was a real eyeopener for me to see physical evidence of the difference.

for a week in Igls, Austria.

However, I didn’t stand a chance of making the GB team as they had already invested heavily in three sliders, so they weren’t prepared to throw scarce resources after a forlorn hope.

If I had any aspirations of being an Olympian I would have to slide for another nation.

Fortunately I had an Irish passport, so I approached them and was pretty much pushing against an open door. It was a quick rise from then on: I competed in the Intercontinental Series (Europa Cup and America’s Cup) in 2000/2001, and by the end I had qualified for the World Championships. The following

In 1997 I was headhunted by Tony Wallington, performance director for British Bobsleigh, who thought that if I could ride the Cresta, I could drive a bob! I did this for a year, driving for the Brits on the Europa Cup circuit.

However, I wasn’t nearly as good as Tony had hoped – essentially I ran out of talent – so, swallowing some pride, I headed back to the Cresta. I figured I was best suited to what I knew, and that was bombing down a track head first on my belly on a ‘toboggan’.

In the summer of 1999, they made skeleton an official Olympic sport. During my torrid time bobbing for GB, I had had a go at skeleton once, more out of

year, an Olympic year, I qualified for the World Cup. I definitely had a taste of what elite performance training was about with the British Bobsleigh team. I trained with Mark Tout (previously the GB1 driver), so I got in vague shape. But in 2000 I had to take my training a hell of a lot more seriously. My single biggest challenge was that I wasn’t an athlete – I had never really trained as a youngster and didn’t have that solid base that others starting out would have had.

I had always been a good rider on the Cresta, so to a certain extent, once I got sliding on a

stage I was at in the season (put together by my strength and conditioning coach, Adam Pengilly). This would be the same with circuits, or I would go to the running track and do some sprint or push training.

skeleton track sorted, the next ‘easiest’ tick in the box was the start. By the Olympics, I was within a quarter of a second of the quickest starters. Although it doesn’t sound like a lot, in terms of split times even that quarter of a second translates to half a second, three-quarters of a second all the way down to the bottom.

the bottom of my sled and push them along a running track – and there was only one track nearby that had a smooth enough surface. That was the only way I could practise my start.

My ‘tick list’ extended to getting the right people behind me whenever I could. I was exceptionally fortunate to be given a physio for the Olympic season by my father-in-law, and he became my currency: where other teams and other individuals might not have a physio on the circuit with them, I would ‘trade’ him for advice, information and favours.

I would call him my ‘performance multiplier’. At one time or another he worked on all three

I was training six days a week, sometimes twice a day. My routine was quite rigid: I would have breakfast, then be off to the gym or running track. If I went to the gym I would do circuits or weights, and within my weights programme I would adjust my workout to suit the

In terms of intensity, my training was probably not too dissimilar to what they do today, but in terms of being sport-specific it was nowhere near. For example, we didn’t have a push track (not even GB had a push track!), so I would have to put roller-blade wheels into the runner boxes at

A GOOD LINE ON SHUTTLECOCK Former Shuttlecock president Clifton Wrottesley gives us the inside track on what the Cresta Run entails To become a member of the Shuttlecock Society, you have to have come out of the track at the Cresta Run’s infamous Shuttlecock corner. You receive a tie, with every year the club putting on a party where a new president is elected. The president’s duties are overseeing the running of this great yearly event.

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The Kulm Hotel and the famous lunches are part and parcel of being a Cresta rider. You have to put up with the odd five-hour lunch. There are a lot of Cresta riders who go to St Moritz but have never skied in their lives, even though the skiing there is incredible.

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I don’t know exactly how many times I’ve come out of Shuttlecock, but it’s around the 30 mark. I like to think I probably come out once every other year now! Shuttlecock is such an eminent threat, there definitely is a specific technique to getting around it: push yourself back on the sled in order to lever yourself around it. To get round it really is about applying a certain amount of brute force. More force.

You do need an iron constitution: the life of a Cresta rider tends to involve being out until 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning, up at 8am to go and ride the run, and then a long lunch, by which time there’s no time to ski. It’s not for the faint-hearted.

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athletes who won gold, silver and bronze and, as they didn’t see me as a threat, they would give me their track notes and tips in return. So he became a very useful tool in my armoury.

I also had a sled technician who was vital in the whole process, because he was able to look after my sled and runners completely so I didn’t have to worry about them. Even some of the biggest nations didn’t have sled technicians travelling with them. My time here was better served by training, preparing, administering my team and resting. My team and I were definitely exploring what was possible during that time, but nowadays they certainly formalise it, and it becomes much more part of their day-to-day.

I’ve been very lucky regarding injuries. I’ve never sustained an injury that I couldn’t walk away from, or even one that has stopped me riding the next day.

Staying injury-free on the Cresta is difficult, as you always pick up bumps and bruises, whereas with skeleton you get the odd graze, so you survive relatively intact.

I would love to race Lizzy Yarnold down the Cresta, and I would beat her!

However, if you gave her another two or three years at it she would probably whup me. If she returned the favour and we raced skeleton, she would beat me by a second or a second and a half, at least. Combining the times, Lizzy would come out on top, but she does have a few years on me! n

in terms of how hard I train, is huge. I train far more frequently now and, as is my nature, I push myself to the limit every day.

My schedule can be quite repetitive, it’s fair to say. I don’t get up really

Lizzy Yarnold is the reigning Olympic women’s skeleton champion y transition to skeleton was quite random. Athletics was always my main passion at school, especially the heptathlon, because there were so many events to keep me busy.

Sadly, when I reached university, it became clear I wouldn’t be able to fulfil my dream of becoming an Olympic athlete in this sport.

Luckily, I saw a flyer for a talent search called ‘Girls for Gold’ and that led me to a testing day at Loughborough University.

I was subjected to a host of physical testing, looking at the raw data behind my speed, strength, height and arm span, among other things. I wanted to get into the modern pentathlon as I had ridden and swum through my childhood. However, they identified my sprint speed as being key for the skeleton, and before I knew it I had been whittled down from a group of 1,500 females to just ten.

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The first time I tried it, I was in Norway with the group and it was terrifying. I made sure to learn all the corners so I knew what I was doing, but as soon as it started it was just so quick – I had no idea where I was going and in the end I was just holding on for dear life! By the end, your whole body is shaking. The next few runs were actually worse, believe it or not, as I knew what was coming. The pressure on your head is immense, and I ended up with bruises and ice burns all over from hitting the ice wall.

I just love the process of getting better at a sport, and here I saw a chance for real improvement and ultimately an opportunity to win at the highest level. I benefited hugely from the knowledge and coaching in place which had produced medals at the previous three Olympic Winter Games. The difference between when I started and now,

early as it’s important to get at least nine hours of sleep if I can.

I know it seems a lot, but I even nap in the afternoon for half an hour too! It’s not just a physical tiredness – when you’re sliding and your brain has been going down a track at 70-80mph, it’s very cognitively draining. You have to sleep just to switch off your brain and calm everything down.

Once I’m up, there’s always a session around lifting weights, core and sprint training, and just generally getting physically tuned up. The quads and your neck, in particular, can get extremely tight, so a lot of the work in the gym also revolves around using foam rollers to properly stretch out the muscles and tendons.

The main injury problems arise from lifting the equipment.

The sled is just under 30kg, so that has given me quite a bad back, including some back spasms and torn discs. One time it was so bad, I was crawling on the floor trying to pack my bags, thinking that was entirely normal. I couldn’t walk or even stand for three days. It’s terrifying the first few times, but it’s just one of those things.

I’m gearing up for the PyeongChang Winter Olympics in February, and as there are limited tracks in the world I’m

about to head to South Korea to train at the actual course. All the competitors have been allowed 40 attempts before the real thing, so it’s a great opportunity to get my head around what the track is like. Sometimes, if there’s lots of humidity, it can be very frosty, otherwise it could be slick on top.

My coaches are there on the corners, filming with their iPads, so in the evenings we can review how I’ve done.

One thing that has changed a lot, as in most sports, is the nutritional side.

I worked out pretty quickly that eating was all about having a balanced diet, keeping both happy and healthy. I’ve got a lovely nutritionist, Freddy, who makes sure my diet is both beneficial and something I can enjoy. So it’s not like I can’t have chocolate or anything. In fact, I always make sure there’s room for a bit of jelly in the evenings – I love jelly!

If I have any time off, I will get out of the team environment, go and have a coffee somewhere or buy lunch, and I always bring my own magazine with me.

The Sunday paper is essential reading too. It is important to have these things to break up the repetitiveness of my daily routine.

Maybe on one of my days off I’ll even get to have a go at the Cresta. I’ve been asked a few times, and I do love the fact that the skeleton came from the Cresta, although I’d love it even more if women could compete every day of the season! n

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Model shown: Continental GT

18 Henry Blofeld has been watching England and Australia go to war over a tiny urn since 1948. Here the newly

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here is nothing in cricket which quickens the pulse more than an Ashes series.

Before England started another five-match adventure in Australia, expert and not so expert opinions were flying all over the place. There was a good deal of propaganda, too, much of it on the Australian side of things. Tempestuous opening batsman David Warner was shooting his mouth off in typically abrasive fashion.

It is never easy to forecast the outcome of these things with any certainty, and this is the eternally fascinating aspect of battles for the Ashes. If England’s numbers two, three and five are still unable to score runs – and on recent evidence they are unlikely to – it is difficult to see the present holders of the Ashes hanging on to the old urn.

This is before we tread delicately around the Ben Stokes question. Obviously England will be a weaker side without him and my feelings are that it would be wrong to send him to Australia whatever the police finally decide to do about that incident in Bristol.

(This piece is being written before they have announced their decision.) If Stokes does join the side, he may feel he has got away with it, which would be wrong. The Australians, being the Australians, will try to lure him into every available bar in the hope of a repeat performance. If that happened, it would surely finish his career for good.

One thing is sure: he needs counselling for both anger and alcohol control. If he

remains in England, he will not fail to realise the enormity of what he has been up to – the 15 punches thrown on that video recording cannot lightly be brushed off. He will receive the counselling he so badly needs. The Stokes who will then rejoin the England side next season will be a man who is much more likely to have come to terms with his demons and to be able to control them. He would then surely have a long England career ahead of him.

If he goes to Australia and falls again at the fence of temptation, it may be the last we shall see of him, which would be most unhappy for the game of cricket as well as for England. Few players come along with the talents of Ben Stokes, and to lose him now would be awful.

The game of cricket was already well and truly racing through my veins even though I was not yet nine.

Now that I am wearing my carpet slippers, theoretically at any rate, I shall be fascinated, happy, disturbed, irritated and whatever by events going on in Australia.

Of course, while watching and/or listening I will be flooded with memories of Ashes contests I have lived through both there and here at home. My first memory of the Ashes takes me cavorting back to Lord’s towards the end of June in 1948. This was my first visit to the ground and it was for the third

day of the Second Test against Don Bradman’s Australians. The game of cricket was already well and truly racing through my veins even though I was not yet nine.

It was a lovely day and we sat on a rug on the grass in front of what was then Q Stand, later to become the Allen Stand.

England lost their last remaining wicket in the first few minutes and then we sat back to watch Australia build on the big lead.

Arthur Morris and Sidney Barnes put on 122 for the first wicket with great composure.

Morris was then bowled by Doug Wright and as he returned to the pavilion, I remember kneeling and straining my neck (I was forbidden to stand) to see the arrival of the next man, to great applause. He was small with a determined stride and a huge baggy green Australian cap pulled firmly down over his ears. This was Don Bradman, going out to play his eighth and last Test innings at Lord’s.

In his previous two innings in this series, he had been caught round the corner at backward short leg by Len Hutton off Alec Bedser. Both Bedser and Hutton were soon in position, but that particular form of lightning did not strike again. Bradman seemed completely in control.

I remember Yorkshireman Alec Coxon, playing his only Test match, running in quickly from the Pavilion End and the Don pulling him two or three times, along the ground of course, to the midwicket boundary where I was sitting with my parents eating strawberries. Once I actually touched the ball after it had come over the

rope and been mostly stopped by the man in front of us. What a moment!

For the record, he made 89 and then edged Bedser to Bill Edrich at first slip, where he took the catch up by his shoulder.

I can see it now in my mind’s eye as I write these words. He walked briskly and unfussily back to the pavilion. Australia won by 409 runs, but that didn’t matter: I had seen Bradman bat.

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y mind now flits from Frank Tyson’s fast bowling which won the series in Australia in 1954/55, to Jim Laker’s 19 for 90 at Old Trafford in 1956, to Richie Benaud’s roundthe-wicket legspin which gave Australia victory by 54 runs on the same ground in 1961, to Derek Underwood’s thrilling demolition of Australia on a drying pitch at the Oval in 1968 after Basil d’Oliveira had made 158. A few days later, d’Oliveira was not picked to tour South Africa – a decision which must have had more than a little to do with South Africa’s subsequent sporting isolation until apartheid ended.

I shall never forget the tour of Australia in 1974/75, when Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson began their formidable fast bowling partnership and 42-year-old Colin Cowdrey flew out as a batting reinforcement for England.

In March 1977, England were back in Australia for the Centenary Test match, played exactly 100 years after the first ever Test match had been played at the

19 retired Test Match Special legend recalls the most dramatic Ashes moments he has witnessed

QUICK-FIRE QUESTIONS WITH BLOWERS Melbourne Cricket Ground in March 1877.

Australia had won that first Test by 45 runs.

Now, mainly as a result of magnificent fast bowling by Lillee and in spite of a miraculous innings of 174 by Derek Randall in England’s second innings, Australia won this match by the identical margin of 45 runs. What an occasion it was, too, with all the former Test cricketers of both countries who had taken part in Ashes matches there to celebrate the occasion.

It was only six months later that Kerry Packer’s intrusion into the world of cricket, initially on behalf of his Channel Nine television network, split the international world of cricket in half. Channel Nine had been refused the right to buy exclusive rights to televise international cricket in Australia by the Australian Board of Control. The 1977 series in England saw Ian Botham’s debut for England at Trent Bridge, in a series England won against a depleted Australian side because some of their leading players were preparing themselves for the Packer fiesta which was shortly to follow.

I have written about the Ashes matches from my earlier years which by no means everyone will remember, and yet they still have me jumping up and down with

excitement. But now, to end, fast forward to the most exciting series on which I ever commentated. In 2005, Michael Vaughan’s shrewd captaincy took England to their first Ashes victory since 1986/87.

Glenn McGrath destroyed England’s batting at Lord’s. Australia’s last-wicket pair of Brett Lee and Mike Kasprowicz almost saw Australia home in the next match. As it was, Steve Harmison flicked Kasprowicz’s glove and England won by two runs.

Australia’s last pair just held on at Old Trafford. Shane Warne then nearly won the day for Australia at Trent Bridge, before Ashley Giles shovelled him to the midwicket boundary and England won by three wickets. At the Oval, Kevin Pietersen’s magnificent 158 just enabled England to hang on for the draw that gave them the series and the Ashes by two matches to one.

As I write, it’s all about to begin again, with Joe Root’s side taking guard in Australia for the next instalment of a sporting event which surely even cricket’s sometimes less than reliable governing body will not bring to an end. n Henry Blofeld OBE joined the Test Match

Special commentary team in 1972 and retired earlier this year

1. Best/worst sledge you’ve heard?

Australia had Mike Atherton caught behind in Sydney in 1990/91, but he was given not out.

Wicketkeeper Ian Healy called Atherton a “fucking cheat” for not walking (which Australians never do.) Atherton smiled, prodded the pitch and replied: “When in Rome, dear boy.”

2. Most entertaining co-commentator?

Brian Johnston and summariser Vic Marks.

3. Favourite flavour of cake?

Moist, ‘brandyfied’ fruit cake.

4. Most memorable Test match?

England v Australia, Leeds 1981. Botham 149 not out: Australia set 130 to win, out for 111 with Bob Willis taking 8/43.

5. Best individual performance you’ve witnessed?

Gordon Greenidge, 214 not out in West Indies’ nine-wicket victory at Lord’s in 1984.

6. Strangest incident you’ve seen on a cricket pitch?

In a minor county match between Norfolk and Hertfordshire in the early 1950s, play was interrupted when a bull which had escaped from Norwich market came charging on to the field.

7. Buses, cranes or helicopters – in preferred order?

Buses, helicopters, cranes.

8. Most awkward moment in the commentary box?

At Chennai last December, when my eyes suddenly went blank. Legspinner Mishra was bowling to Liam Dawson. The roar told me he was out. When my vision cleared I saw the two short extra covers jumping about and said he was caught at short extra cover. Sunny Gavaskar, my summariser, said: “No, Henry, he was bowled.”

9. Most interesting character you’ve come across in cricket?

John Arlott.

10. Will England win the Ashes?

No, if they do not score runs at 2, 3 and 5.

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In the chic surrounds of THE NED, there was incredible talent on show: in support of grassroots boxing and the stars of tomorrow, we co-ordinated four fights featuring the best up-and-coming prospects from legendary London gyms Fitzroy Lodge, Finchley ABC, Dale Youth, Lynn AC and Lewsey. We hope one or two of them might represent Team GB at the next Olympics, if they haven’t already turned professional – watch this space.

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Members can see upcoming events on our new online calendar at fitzdares.com/events – please join us for a festive drink at Cheltenham racecourse in December. And we have much in the planning for 2018!

22 Norton’s Coin wins the Gold Cup

A casual start in bookmaking at Sunderlands became a 40-year passion and career for Paul Brown

ACCIDENTAL BROKER

I

got into horse racing by mistake, really, having no interest in the sport, and only watching it on television because my dad loved ‘the sport of kings’. How things changed very quickly. I was one of those youngsters who was too much into football and cricket, although I did reach a reasonably high standard, playing cricket for London and football for Blackheath district. My claim to fame was playing as a semi-professional alongside Ian Wright for Greenwich Borough, where I earned £30 a game, the same as Wrighty.

Sadly I did not keep pace with him, or go any further in the game.

I had four cousins who worked for Sunderlands, and they needed a board boy to work on Saturdays,

Paul Brown as a budding cricketer – bottom right

so I went to see the manager Cyril Caley at his house on Thornsbeach Road, Catford, with my dad.

Cyril was definitely the old-school type of person – every sentence ended in “chum”. My cousin Barry picked me up on the Saturday and drove me to the office on Clifford Street, just off New Bond Street.

I was expecting a large, spacious office, but instead it was very small, with a kitchen and another room on the side, the manager’s office. I remember looking at the windows and seeing that they were covered with Sporting Life pages, stuck with tape.

In the Seventies they had a chalkboard where you would put up the results, plus a blower (speaker) to blare out commentaries and betting shows. It was even worse on bank holidays, when

We would take a view on a horse and lay it accordingly, ‘live and die by our convictions’ so to speak.

there were about 16 zmeetings. You had five meetings covered by Extel (now SIS), and the rest of the results came through the ticker-tape machine, which could take anything from 30 minutes to an hour – it was extremely difficult to keep an eye on all the bets.

After my first Saturday of real hard graft, they paid me £4, and when I worked during the school holidays I would get £24 for the week, which went a very long way back then. It was a bit confusing when I started full-time as I only got £17 a week – there were these things called taxes and National Insurance, which I found to be very unfair.

The settling of bets was always done manually, and this was frustrating at the best of times.

However, it was also a great way to hone your maths skills. Back then the dial phones seemed hitech, but in this day and age they would not have looked out of place in the British Museum. The accounts were processed manually, on a weekly basis, and comparing them to today’s instantaneous email and bank card transactions it makes me laugh how much technology has advanced.

Sunderlands was owned by Pat Densham, a big, tall, intimidating man, who did not suffer fools easily. The company was named after Sunderland flying boats, which he flew with No. 10 Squadron during World War II. Although he did not speak much about this period of his life, we all had the utmost respect for what he went through. Pat worked mostly on the course, and was a regular feature at all the big meetings. Times have changed betting-wise on the course – the bookmakers back then seemed to take a view on a horse and lay it accordingly, “live and die by their convictions”, so to speak. Today bookmakers are more cautious when laying horses, and they have the safeguard of internet betting with sites like Betfair and Betdaq.

I remember back in 1983, when Saxon Farm won the Triumph Hurdle at Cheltenham. Unaware that it was a very big loser, I decided to cheer as it jumped the last in the lead and pulled away. It was my biggest bet ever at the time as I had £10 E/W at 20/1 ante-post. Pat’s son, Martin Densham, took me

23 MARTIN DENSHAM 1950-2017

Them good old days

into his office and gave me the biggest telling-off, and that’s putting it mildly – it was not the final time Martin and I clashed. Also, at the same meeting, Forgive ’N Forget landed a massive gamble in the Coral Golden Handicap, being backed down from 8/1 to 7/2. It was a bad Cheltenham that year.

The office relocated to Croydon in January 1988, to a more modern establishment. Then, at Cheltenham in 1990, Sunderlands took the hardest hit in their history. The horse responsible was Norton’s Coin, who won the Gold Cup at 100/1.

Every bookmaker was probably cheering from the rafters, but not us. We had representation in several of our clients’ private boxes, and we laid the horse heavily. Our staff could not contact the office or get down to the pitch in time. That result cost the company hundreds of thousands of pounds. Heads did roll.

Sunderlands took over the sponsorship of the Imperial Cup from 1992 to 2008, where they offered a £50,000 bonus for the winning horse of this race going on to win any race at the Cheltenham Festival the following week. Three horses did the double, all trained by the Pipe family: Olympian (1993), Blowing Wind (1998), and Gaspara (2007). A running joke in the office was to make sure Mr Pipe’s cheque was ready to go.

S

underlands merged with Guntrips in 1992, with Laurie Wallis in 1998, and with Habbershaws in 2005, where they shared plenty of success. Simon Wallis came over from Laurie Wallis bookmakers and became one of the directors at Sunderlands.

Circumstances changed when Martin Densham got very ill and could no longer take his business where he wanted to: at this point Sunderlands merged with Fitzdares.

This chapter in my life was just as daunting as all the others before them – the industry has changed so much. Now, liquidity in the markets dictates so much of what is possible to lay, especially in the mornings leading up to racing. I guess that’s just how the bookmaking industry is

evolving – like with everything it is results-driven, so there has to always be an element of protection for us brokers and the company. Technology has come on leaps and bounds too. So much is automated and systems are ever-changing, but don’t get me started on those headphones! I must say, though, the Fitzdares team welcomed me, Barry and Pete wholeheartedly from the very first day, and it’s been a fantastic 18 months.

In the time it has taken me to write this article, Martin Densham has sadly passed away. As I eluded to earlier, we did not always see eye to eye.

However, in the last 30 years of knowing him, I came to discover that he was a kind, loyal and generous man who looked after his staff impeccably and took it all on the chin, the good with the bad. I am proud to call him my friend, and he will be missed by all who knew him. n Paul Brown is a broker at Fitzdares

Results came through the ticker-tape machine, which could take anything from 30 minutes to an hour.

born at the family home ‘Sandown’, Martin was educated at Millfield. He joined Sunderlands, the family business founded by his father (who sadly also passed on 22nd November) in 1946, named after the plane he had flown in World War II. In 1982, Sunderlands acquired T Guntrips, with Martin taking over as MD in 1990, building up one of the largest and most respected credit businesses in the country. In 1998, he acquired the Laurie Wallis business, adding Habbershaws in 2005, for many years also serving on the Tattersalls committee.

Martin’s leadership made Sunderlands unique. His compassion and fairness set him apart from so many. When he was sadly diagnosed with leukaemia, he asked Fitzdares to take on the running of his off-course business.

Balthazar and his team had always admired Sunderlands and the loyalty of their clients, so rare in today’s betting world, and were delighted to take on the responsibility. At the same time, Martin and Simon Wallis joined forces with John and Russell White to create White Sunderland, which is now one of the largest on-course operators in the country.

Martin was a true gentleman both on and off the racecourse. On the rails you would be greeted like a long-lost friend, asked how the family was, and given a great bear hug. When you asked for a price on a horse he would say: “9/2, but to you how about a little 6/1?”

We remember one day at Ascot when a client was bemoaning the fact he hadn’t managed to back his horse, which had won. Later that day, Martin thought it would be a nice gesture to put £50E/W on his account. “That’s very kind,” a member of staff said. “What price was it?” “66/1,” he replied. His generosity extended to his 15-year sponsorship of the Sunderlands Imperial Cup, where he initiated the £50,000 bonus should the winning horse go on to win a race at the following week’s Cheltenham Festival. The bonus was won three times, once by Peter Deal, who is ever grateful to Martin as he spent the money on his lovely honeymoon.

The phrase ‘larger than life’ was invented with Martin in mind. He was loved by everyone: his warmth and bonhomie were felt whenever you were in his company, and his tremendous laugh would light up any room. He and his dearest wife Jan were the most tremendous hosts – from Imperial Cup day to the Sunderlands tent at Cheltenham, to the many wonderful luncheons at Motcombs, Langan’s, Boisdale or the Ritz. There was also the legendary Sunderlands Christmas party at the Royal Automobile Club, serving up the finest English fare, washed down with magnums of champagne and French wine, and epic turf tales regaled amongst his guests and friends.

He was a long-standing member of the Guild of XIX Lubricators, kindly donating his time and money to events where substantial amounts were raised for charities, such as the Anthony Nolan Trust and the Royal Marsden.

Racing has lost a true friend, one of the last old-fashioned bookmakers, who added so much colour to the racing scene. Martin is survived by his wife Jan and sister Penny. There will be a memorial service in the New Year, the date of which will be announced in due course. n

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REMAINSOFTHEDAY There are two great traditions on Boxing Day: watching sport and eating Christmas leftovers. Whether you’re heading to a local race meeting or match, or planning an afternoon in your armchair in front of the King George, here are some quick-fix recipes from Anna Kibbey, food writer at 2Forks.co.uk, to keep you fuelled for the action

Turkey, cranberry and bacon club

Cheeseboard toastie This toastie requires a morning raid on the Christmas cheeseboard. Stilton gives great flavour and Cheddar a lovely stickiness, but you can’t go wrong with a good creamy hunk of Brie or Vacherin either. A quality sourdough will do a great job of containing it all, and it keeps very well for a few days if you’ve bought it before Christmas. Note: one layer of cheese is enough, two comes with a health warning. Makes two sandwiches.

Ingredients Enough cheese to cover two slices of bread 2 tbsp red onion or fig chutney 4 slices of good-quality sourdough (seeded works well) 2 spring onions, milder green sections, finely chopped Olive oil for cooking 1. Slice your bread into 1cm slices. This will ensure the cheese filling melts before the bread burns. 2. Spread a generous layer of chutney over two of the sourdough slices. 3. Cover with your choice of cheese, broken up into small pieces so that it cooks quickly; a light scattering of spring onion slices; and the top slice of bread. 4. In a heavy frying pan, heat a little olive oil over a medium flame. 5. When the cooking surface is hot, place your sandwich carefully into the pan and apply a little pressure with a spatula to encourage it to melt.

6. When one side is golden brown after 3-4 minutes, add a dash more oil to the pan and flip, being careful not to spill the contents. .7 When your sandwich is golden on both sides and the contents have melted, serve with some grapes from the cheeseboard. Eat ASAP!

This sandwich is hearty enough for the coldest of Boxing Day settings and handsome enough to be unwrapped in public. Without straying too far from the classic recipe, we’ve tweaked the classic club sandwich here to include cranberry sauce to go with your turkey cuts (include the skin if there’s any left over), a mustard-laced mayo and a minor concession to virtue: avocado instead of the traditional boiled egg. This is one instance when regular sliced white bread works best of all, so don’t be tempted to upgrade. Makes two hearty lunches.

Ingredients 4 thin slices of turkey breast (enough to cover two slices of bread) 8 rashers of smoked streaky bacon 1 ripe avocado, thinly sliced 2 medium vine tomatoes 3 tbsp mayo 2 tsp wholegrain mustard 2 tbsp cranberry sauce 2 handfuls rocket 6 slices of medium sliced white bread 1. Lightly toast the bread (a hot griddle adds good chargrilled flavour if you can be bothered) and allow it to cool.

2. Meanwhile, fry the bacon in a dry pan over a medium heat to crisp it up perfectly. Dry on kitchen paper. 3. Mix together the wholegrain mustard and mayonnaise and spread over four slices of the bread. 4. Spread the cranberry sauce over the remaining two slices.

5. Layer the first slice of each sandwich with a handful of leaves, 3-4 thin slices of tomato and a layer of turkey.

6. Top each with the third slice of toast, cranberry sauce side down to sit next to the turkey. 7. Layer on the avocado (use a fork to push it down into the toast slightly so it doesn’t slide out) and the crispy bacon. 8. Add your third slice of toast to the top, press down and skewer each quarter with a cocktail stick, before slicing diagonally into four with a sharp knife.

Roast vegetable and barley salad with honey, mustard and parsley

AFTERCHRISTMAS COBBLER Jack Chaplin of Rum Runner has taken a classic sherry cobbler and added a Christmas twist.

Smooth and fruity, it has enough sharpness to wake you up on Boxing Day. Cocktail ingredients Serves 1 75ml Tio Pepe sherry 1/4 Clementine 15ml star anise syrup* 2 slices of lemon 6 redcurrants 1. Place all your festive ingredients into a cocktail shaker, with a sufficient amount of ice.

2. Gently shake for 30 seconds and strain in glass, over ice.

Garnish ideas Redcurrants Mint sprig Icing sugar *The perfect star anise syrup Toast 3 broken-up star anise in a pan for 30 seconds. Add 500ml water and 500ml caster sugar and let simmer for 5 mins.

Make sure the sugar has dissolved, remove from heat and leave to chill.

Strain out remaining star anise.

rumrunner.co.uk

This is a robust winter salad that can be packed for a car park picnic or eaten with cold turkey, sausages and ham at home. Use whatever veg you have left over: roast carrots, parsnips, pumpkin or squash, red cabbage…even Brussels sprouts or broccoli (though they’ll need a quick charring on the griddle first to revive them). The secret to bringing leftovers back to life is texture and colour; here, roasted hazelnuts, chopped parsley and pomegranate seeds elevate the veg and grains. Serves four as a side.

Salad ingredients 150g pearl barley Left-over roast root vegetables, cabbage or griddled Brussels sprouts/broccoli 1 tbsp roasted hazelnuts, chopped 2 tbsp pomegranate seeds A handful of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped Dressing 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 1 tbsp balsamic vinegar 1 tbsp white wine vinegar 1 clove garlic, crushed 2 tsp wholegrain mustard 2 tsp honey Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper 1. Remove the left-over veg from the fridge and bring back to room temperature. 2. Cook the pearl barley in advance, so it’s allowed to cool. Drain it when it feels a touch underdone – you want it firm to the bite, nutty rather than sticky and starchy. 3. Mix the dressing ingredients together in a jar and shake well. 4. When it’s cool, mix the barley with the dressing and most of the chopped parsley. 5. Gently fold in the veg – you don’t want to mash it up.

6. Transfer to a long serving plate or a flat board (more visually appealing than a salad bowl) and sprinkle with the roasted hazelnuts, pomegranate seeds and the rest of the parsley.

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26

Tom ‘Pricewise’ Segal’s top ten tips from a hugely successful career 1. Papillon 2000 Grand National, Aintree

The Grand National is by far the biggest horse race of them all, and it was the ‘plunge horse’ Papillon’s win in the 2000 renewal that set me on my career path. Papillon was backed in from 33-1 to favouritism on the day, the whole race went in slow motion for me as Ruby Walsh gave him one of the best rides you will ever see. In a chaotic race, he never looked like he was going to do anything but win.

2. Tominator 2011 Northumberland Plate, Newcastle

Probably the one tip that most racing fans remember, mainly due to the Racing Post portraying me as ‘The Tominator’ in Arnold Schwarzenegger garb on the front page the following day. Boy, was I a long time in make-up!

I have always thought that the best edge punters have is when a horse is doing something different from what they’ve done before. Tominator was stepping up to 2m for the first time and he improved markedly for it.

3. Attache 2003 Buckingham Palace Stakes, Royal Ascot

Having tipped for a very long time now, there is one day that stands out and that was 20 June 2003. It’s hard to have one winner at Royal Ascot, but Attache was the third winner in the space of an hour and I have never had, never will have, a day like that again.

4. Sharoura 1999 Tote Brian Taylor Stakes, Yarmouth

No one but me and her owners will remember Sharoura winning an irrelevant sprint handicap at Yarmouth in 1999.

All of us need that one break to open doors, and she was that one. She had run a sneakily good race in a better race the time before and was my first big-priced winning tip for the Racing Post.

5. Imperial Commander 2010 Cheltenham Gold Cup

The 2010 Cheltenham Gold Cup was considered a match between the greats Kauto Star and Denman, but Imperial Commander was a hugely underrated chaser who proved himself in their class that day. Paddy Brennan spent the last half-furlong with his finger to his lips, quietening the crowd – and he wasn’t the only one.

6. Monty’s Pass 2003 Grand National, Aintree

I got into horse racing watching Lucius win the 1977 Grand National and while most people my age were out partying, I spent most of my days trying to work out who was going to win the National every year. Having seen him finish second in the 2002 Topham, I was convinced Monty’s Pass was going to win the next year’s National. Ninety-nine per cent of my thoughts are hopelessly wrong; that one wasn’t.

7. Sergeant Cecil 2005 Northumberland Plate and Ebor

One win in one of the biggest betting races of the season can be a fluke, but two certainly can’t. That’s what Sergeant Cecil achieved in 2005, winning both the Northumberland Plate and the Ebor. I had seen him loop the whole field at Epsom on Derby Day, and he was another horse that just had to improve stepping up in trip.

8. Pipedreamer 2007 Cambridgeshire, Newmarket

The Cambridgeshire has always been a race that has suited my style of punting, and Pipedreamer’s win in 2007 stands out. He was a John Gosden special in that he was a top-class horse running in a handicap. As commentator Richard Hoiles pointed out as Pipedreamer went clear, “he was a sheep in wolf ’s clothing”.

2015 until a chance meeting in a fish and chip shop in the town centre. Not feeling my best having been out for a few, I happened to bump into some of Kim Bailey’s staff, who told me Darna was working the house down after a wind operation and would win the following day. It’s not all science and hard work, you know!

10. Sea The Stars 2009 2000 Guineas, Newmarket

If, like me, you spend an awful lot of your time watching horse racing, there is nothing like unearthing a superstar horse early on in his career. It’s doesn’t happen very often, but Sea The Stars was a rare exception. While most were concentrating, quite correctly, on him winning the Derby, it was his ‘Coronation Day’ in the 2000 Guineas that proved what I was convinced I already knew. n

9. Darna 2015 Brown Advisory, Cheltenham

Tom Segal, aka PRICEWISE, has been the pre-eminent tipster in horse racing for 20 years – an unheard-of innings in the industry’s trade

Right place, right time. Cheltenham was proving tough in

paper The Racing Post

27

WINTERREADS

Five of the Fitzdares team recommend a variety of books to enjoy when the worst of the winter weather strikes Bunce’s Big Fat Short History of British Boxing

Hunger

Sixty Years of Jump Racing: From Arkle to McCoy

By Robin Oakley This is an exceptional book for any sport lover, let alone National Hunt enthusiast.

It chronicles the social and economic changes which have brought the sport its many ups and downs. From the development of sponsorship and syndicate ownership to the near loss of the Grand National and the growth of all-weather racing to meet bookmakers’ demands for betting shop turnover, it really does have everything.

Pace and colour are provided by stories of horses who have won the hearts of the racing crowds, from the Irish-trained hurdler Istabraq to Best Mate, the three-time winner of the Cheltenham Gold Cup. Famous rivalries and memorable races are relived, with key victories revisited in portraits of and interviews with the owners, jockeys and trainers who have dominated the sport.

There is never a dull moment – this is a book I keep by my bedside.

Ed Guiver, Head of Horse Racing

By Knut Hamsun This 1890 novel helped Hamsun win the 1920 Nobel Prize for Literature – and it’s an intense winter read if ever there was one! It’s a seminal psychological or stream-of-consciousness novel, having influenced writers such as Joyce, Kafka and Camus.

The book follows the monologue of a ‘tortured artist’ in Oslo, lurching from one absurd encounter to another, struggling for literary inspiration, while descending into madness and alienation within the modern city. A central theme is, as the title suggests, the narrator’s abject hunger, physical and mental deterioration (one to consider while devouring Christmas dinner).

Despite being devoid of plot, it’s a page-turning masterpiece, but although it’s full of dark, sardonic humour, be warned: this novel won’t be providing you with festive warmth!

Alex MacDonald, Marketing Executive

Citadel

by Jordan Wylie An inspiring, gritty real life adventure.

Jordan Wylie is a young man from a tough area of Blackpool, where kids often went off the rails, who chose a life in the army. He served in Iraq, then suffered an injury, spoiling his chances of climbing up the military ladder.

When an old army colleague suggested he join a security team on a tanker in Yemen in jumped at the opportunity. Ex-servicemen were often offered dazzling salaries and `James Bond' lifestyles between jobs protecting the super-tankers carrying consumer goods to Europe and the US. In Citadel, Wylie writes a first-hand account of these dangerous years from someone ‘at the front’. A young soldier from the streeets, he was determined to make the most of life. To his surprise, he found the answer in the perilous waters of ‘Pirate Alley’.

Peter Adams, Broker

THE FITZDARES TIMES CROSSWORD ACROSS

DOWN

1.

2018 Winter Olympics host (11)

1.

Tennis player, stabbed in Dec 2016 (5, 7)

7.

Vessel of the seas (5)

2.

9.

Dual King George VI winner (4, 3)

Suffragette killed during the 1913 Derby (5,7)

10. Slavic ethnic group, Djokovic (4)

3.

Ex-England rugby player; the sun’s zenith (4)

14. Rotorua-born England rugby player; first name (5)

4.

Steven Gerrard’s wife’s maiden name (6)

16. Hunting animal (5)

5.

Temple for athletes (3)

18. Racing’s terrestrial home (3)

6.

Norse God (4)

19. 2010 Supreme Novices’ Hurdle winner, trained by P J Hobbs (7)

8.

Twelfth of a foot (4)

20. National boating governing body (3)

11. Ian McEwan novel turned film, starring Daniel Craig (8,4)

21. Worn by jockeys (5)

12. Boxer between 115 and 118lb (12)

23. Eddie Jones’s maternal homeland (5)

13. A rudimentary exercise (4,2)

24. Tennis beauty, Enrique Iglesias’s long-term girlfriend; first name (4)

15. Current Spurs, Argentinian winger (6)

26. Founded in Woolwich in 1886 (7)

22. To practise boxing (4)

29. Palindromic Inuit boat (5)

23. Current world heavyweight boxing champion (IBO, IBF, WBA) (6)

30. Step towards political removal (11)

17. Diminutive rowing crew member (3)

25. A tide (4) 27. Biblical, saved our horses (4) 28. The only way to travel on snow (3) For answers email rory@fitzdares.com

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By Steve Bunce Starting in 1970, Bunce takes us on a journey from Joe Bugner beating Henry Cooper to an explosion in the sport’s exposure to the British public, with 22 million watching Barry McGuigan win his world title. All boxing royalty is here – Bruno v Tyson; Hatton’s Vegas visits; the nineties British legends, Benn, Eubank, Prince Naseem; and Lennox Lewis through to stadium-fillers such as Calzaghe, Froch and Haye.

Besides the fighters, there are the fixers, the managers, the trainers, the duckers and divers too.

‘Bunce’s Big Fat Short History of British Boxing’ has every high and impossible low, tragic deaths and fairy tales. It is a record of British boxing, boxing people and 50 years of glory, heartache and drama. It’s essential reading for the pugilist in us all.

Charles Lee, Head of Trading

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By Fredrik Backman I love all the classics! ‘The Great Gatsby’ is my favourite book of all time, but one of the most enjoyable reads I had this year was ‘A Man Called Ove’.

Very different from any other book I have read, this will leave you crying tears of both laughter and sadness in equal measure.

It is a heart-warming story, easy to read with real characters that everyone can relate to. Based on a grumpy old man struggling with the monotony of everyday life following the loss of his wife, he strikes up an unusual friendship with a young family who move in next door. While bringing chaos and comedy, Ove’s new neighbours help him transform his life and get through his overwhelming grief.

It’s a great feel-good read for the Christmas period and, I guarantee, one you won’t be able to put down.

Eloïse Boyle, Finance 5

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