Only fools and horses
INDUS VALLEY is an unremarkable horse, or so punters thought when it ran in the 4.25 at Kempton Park, a racetrack on the outskirts of London, on January 22nd 2014. Given that it had been beaten by an aggregate of 104 lengths in its previous four outings—and had not competed at all for two years—odds of 25-to-1 seemed generous. Indus Valley won. Two earlier, minor races at other English tracks that Wednesday had featured unlikely comebacks by mounts that had been out of action for months. The 6.25 at Kempton Park delivered a final surprise. Low Key—an aptly named horse given its lack of pedigree, more so since it was running its first race since being castrated—finished well ahead of the pack. Obscure midwinter horse-racing is often unpredictable; still, what were the odds of four horses who had not won a race between them since 2010 all triumphing on the same day?
The answer, as bookmakers soon discovered, was 9,000-to-1. Wagering just £112 ($184) on all four was enough to yield £1m. And thousands of pounds had indeed been wagered on two, three or all four no-hopers. Even before Low Key romped home with a length to spare, the writing was on the wall: the bookies had been hustled. And it wasn’t hard to guess the culprit: Barney Curley, a 75-year-old Northern Irishman, former aspiring Jesuit priest, low-grade horse trainer and professional gambler, had once owned three of the four winners. Their current trainers were former employees of his Newmarket yard or otherwise associated with him. Betting on horses blessed with a sudden improvement in form was as much a Curley trademark as the beige fedora on his bald pate.
Bookies denounced a “weapons-grade coup”. One, Paddy Power, said it had lost nearly £1m; pundits speculated about losses of £15m for the industry overall, though the true figure was probably nearer £2m (bookmakers exaggerate such hits to play up punters’ chances). Yet as in previous Curley plots—and there have been four decades’ worth of them—none found a reason not to pay up. Part of the ingenuity of the schemes, part of the chutzpah, is the way they mix subterfuge with respect for the letter of the law. This was a heist, but a perfectly legal one.
Play it again, SamWhen it comes to landing wagers on unlikely horses, Mr Curley has form (“Schemes, coups, call them what you like,” he says, amused by the mystique that surrounds him). The template is simple. A horse with proven ability is purchased, often from overseas. It disappears for months or years, perhaps recovering from injury. When it finally competes, its performance is appalling. Because, in most low-quality races, faster horses are given additional weight to “handicap” them, losing badly can help a horse in future events by lowering its rating. On its next outing, the bookmakers (having never heard of the obscure horse) lure punters with prices of 20-to-1 or higher. Lo and behold, the nag rediscovers its form, beats a field of weighted-down stragglers and enriches its backers—ie, Mr Curley....MORE
