The year was 1975, and the Grand National captivated the entire nation as it always does. As a nine-year-old boy, I was drawn into the excitement and allure of this iconic horse race, but it was a particular horse with a unique name that caught my attention: L’Escargot, the snail. His name, seemed wonderfully ironic for a racehorse, especially one competing in such a prestigious event. This seemingly whimsical choice would plant the seeds for my future in horse racing betting.

Murder (redrum)

My Dad was always an avid follower of the races, and he placed a bet for me every year on the National. His advice was for me to back Red Rum, the favourite. Red Rum was the nation’s darling, having already won the race twice and looking to make history with a third victory. The whole country was cheering him on, swept up in the romance and drama surrounding the prospect of him winning a third Grand National.

It was murder (get it?) trying to resist Red Rum with all of the hype, but I did resist and found myself increasingly drawn to L’Escargot. Perhaps it was my young contrarian spirit or simply the appeal of cheering for an underdog. Despite my Dad’s gentle warnings and the overwhelming support for Red Rum, I insisted on placing my 5p pocket money on L’Escargot.

The Victory and the Lesson

L’Escargot, contrary to the nation’s expectations, won the Grand National by a mile (a horse measures a 1/15th of a mile in this shrewd calculation). My Dad looked at me with a mixture of surprise, intrigue and pride as he handed me my winnings—37 and a half pence, which he generously rounded up to 50p. It was a small fortune for me, and the significance of turning 5p into 50p in the time it took the Snail to romp 4 miles wasn’t lost on me. Despite my now obvious skills in this field, my Dad couldn’t be convinced of my need for him to put 5p on the 2.30 at Kempton Park (it might not have actually been Kempton) for me the following Tuesday and my fortune building was curtailed by only being allowed a bet once a year on the National. With the Snail retired, I backed Rummy each way the following 2 years and he came up trumps for me both times!

Of course this story can’t possibly be the genesis of my so called cold, calculating approach to betting—I just liked the cut of L’Escargot’s jib and his funny name, but I maintain I had to endure some pressure and hold my ground against those who thought they knew better than me, so there might be a kernel of my betting future self in there, who knows.

Over the years, a dispassionate approach has become the cornerstone of my betting strategy. I treat betting as a business, not a game, focusing on long-term profitability through rigorous analysis and disciplined bankroll management. I rarely watch a horse race being run, I never go to the races and I share a lot of the concerns that many people have about the game and the welfare of the horses. While others may be drawn to the excitement and hype that often accompany big races, I remain steadfast in my methodical approach, knowing from long experience that slow and steady wins the race.

Looking back, it’s clear that my early experience with L’Escargot shaped my outlook on betting at least in a small way. In the aftermath, I was fully absorbed in the seemingly alchemic process that had allowed be to turn a 5p coin into a 50p coin and not in pinning posters of L’Escargot to my bedroom wall. I think it might have lit in me a respect for the value of independent thinking and process, and the importance of staying true to one’s convictions, even in the face of overwhelming popular resistance. Driving on the wrong side of the road is often a very quick way out of traffic jams, but people will generally not understand or respect you for it. While the bookmakers may never round up the winnings like my old Dad did, the principles I learned as a nine-year-old continue to guide me today.

Funny as it might sound, I hope I can help to take the excitement out of horse racing for you. I believe betting should be approached with a clear, strategic mind, free from the distractions of hype and emotion. By focusing on careful calculation and thoughtful analysis, it’s possible to turn even the smallest bets into meaningful profits, just as my old pal L’Escargot and me did in 1975.