There’s nothing like a day at the track with mates who wouldn’t know a favourite from a frog.
Non-punters. I actually know a few. It’s my life mission to corrupt them.
For starters, they never have their own form guide. Which means they want to borrow mine. And as we all know, that’s awful luck.
They aren’t interested in Perth. They want to get a cab after the last, instead of seeking out the final get-out stakes somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere.
They get bored easily. Unless you find them a winner. So the key is to secure decent tips, and keep their fluids up.
I’ll be doing just that today. With three great old mates. Our annual get together. We’re all very excited.
One is a reformed punter. Much more responsible these days. Or so he tells us.
The other two bet on Melbourne Cup Day, and whenever they get stuck with me.
Where I grew up, we all played footy and punted. And enjoyed cool drinks on hot days.
Sadly, not everyone had such a privileged upbringing.
There are folk out there who haven’t embraced our love of the punt. Such a shame.
The things they must be forced to do instead on a Saturday arvo. Golf. Triathlons. Gardening. Computer games. What a waste.
I first met this lot in Cairns many years ago, on the coaching staff of a footy club.
After fun and successful times, we moved on, and elsewhere.
After a few years apart, a pact was made to get together every year, for a few giggles. And so we have.
Our weekend always includes a trip to the track. That was my idea. They agreed, only because I told them how easy it was to make money while drinking cold beer. Yep, they believed me.
Over the years I’ve dragged them to Randwick, the Gold Coast, the Cairns Cup, and a few places in between.
For some reason, we never win. Ever. I keep them interested with group trifectas, and doubles, and tips from the most reliable of sources. For absolutely no return.
Of course, they blame me. And declare how lucky they are to only go through these torture sessions once a year. Unlike their host.
It takes a steady flow of refreshments to ease the pain. Until the next morning.
This year will be different. Mark us down as good things at Doomben today.
We’ll pool some money, because that’s what happens when blokes with no idea want to back things.
Stewards have been advised of a change of tactics. A monster quaddie is on the cards. And yes, I’ll have to explain what that means.
Keep an eye out for us. Four old blokes looking uncomfortable in ties. One putting the bets on. Three others shaking heads.
Feel free to offer us tips. Just be prepared to spend some time explaining what they have to do if I’m not with them.
Like me, you should be doing your bit to educate a non-punter. Get them out to the track. Text them some tips. Make them think you win plenty of cash every weekend.
Just one rule. Don’t let them touch the form guide. It’s hard enough to find a winner, without that sort of cruel luck.
