Jack Houghton's Betting Challenge Week Seven: Let me be profitable again

ICC Champions Trophy / Jack Houghton / 26 September 2009 / Leave a Comment

"I really haven’t got a clue what I’m talking about. The last I heard England were rubbish; receiving repeated drubbings from Australia. I looked at the team last night and saw no names I recognised. No Gooch, Gatting or Gower. No Robin Smith."

Jack Houghton explains why conversations with the betting gods can be a step on the road to ruin. Our man assures us he hasn't lost it yet before describing the England ODI cricket team as "the bet of the century." Should we be concerned? Only if we've run out of custard creams...

There is a truth professional gamblers hold to be self-evident: to be profitable, you must specialise. Losers gorge themselves of all that the great buffet of betting has to offer; winners only ever eat the cheese and pineapple sticks. Who knows what might be lurking in that couscous salad? Therein lies uncertainty, and winners have no truck with uncertainty.

Jack Houghton was a long-time follower of the specialisation theory. Many learned academics credit him with its invention. But now he's turned his back. August 2009. Armed with a £1,000 bank and oodles of likely misplaced confidence, he sets out to prove that, in a year, betting on everything Betfair has to offer, he can turn a profit.

* * *

Walking into town the day after the second miscarriage of a short year, my wife and I were accosted by a woollen-clad old woman offering heather: "Buy some for luck my dears?" As knives to the heart go, the scene was as piercing and rapier like as handing a newly blind person an art exhibition flyer.

Following behind the old lady were two younger women of the same brethren. Undeterred by the nonplussed reaction we had given the first offering, one reached out, clutching a withered piece of vaguely purple twig wrapped in tin foil. But before the sales' pitch was made, she tripped; disappearing past us to the pavement as the words, "Buy some for luck..." dopplered by.

The act, so perfectly wrapped with irony, was, to us, a portent of better things to come. We'd faced a couple of knocks, it was true, but the gods were now on our side and all would be well.

Just as it sometimes feels the gods are interceding in your real life; they can often station themselves firmly in your betting life too. Right now it feels like a support group of depressed betting gods - all in a terrible funk - are sitting atop my head, crushing any chance of betting wisdom. "Leave me you cruel and vengeful beings!" I would shout. If I were mental. But I'm not - not yet - so I won't.

Because, being honest, I long ago banished any thoughts of runic order lying behind sporting events. In sport, as in life, things combine together in chaotic randomness (or should that be random chaoticness), and assuming the presence of an overlord who needs to be pleased is not a profitable state of mind.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself. In reality they're still there - somewhere in the deep subconscious. And I've spoken with them again. Did my bet on the Fed displease you? Should I not have meddled in Formula 1? Why haven't I long ago learnt your oft-taught lesson about sprint handicaps? Forgive me oh glorious betting deities. Let me be profitable again.

Okay, it turns out I've lost it; but that's not going to stop me - in fact it's what's driving me forward - ploughing on in to another sporting field I know nothing about. Cricket.

The ICC Champions Trophy (that, it seems, much like the Champions League, doesn't warrant an apostrophe). On Sunday, England play South Africa. Taking a recent 100 per cent record in one-day internationals to South Africa's 50 per cent, it is hard to see why England aren't favourites. Especially as they've just wrapped up a win over Sri Lanka, who in turn beat South Africa last time out. If recent collateral form means anything, England is the bet of the century.

I really haven't got a clue what I'm talking about. The last I heard England were rubbish; receiving repeated drubbings from Australia. I looked at the team last night and saw no names I recognised. No Gooch, Gatting or Gower. No Robin Smith. But I need some juicily priced winner, so the [3.0] on England is too tempting to pass up. I'm having £20 on.

Retreating to more familiar ground, in the Queen Elizabeth Stakes on Saturday afternoon, Rip Van Winkle looks a horse to be against. Although he has posted the strongest clock performance of the field, he set that when allowed to run near perfect fractions chasing home Sea The Stars over ten furlongs.

The conditions he faces Saturday afternoon - a small field with no obvious pacemaker but himself, over a mile - will make it hard for him to repeat that peak, and he is likely to be vulnerable at a very short price. The Ballydoyle team clearly feel their horse will win regardless, which is why no pacemaker is running, but at likely odds of around [1.7] I'm willing to bet they're wrong. I'm laying him at BSP for £10 in the win market and £30 in the place market.

Now you have read this, go to your cupboards. Find a custard cream. Place it outside your front door. It's an offering. The betting gods like custard creams. And I need all the help I can get.

This week's bets:

£20 Back of England at [3.0] in ICC Champions Trophy match against South Africa.
£10 Lay of Rip Van Winkle at BSP in QE2 win market.
£30 Lay of Rip Van Winkle at BSP in QE2 place market.