Roving Reports: Aintree Mayhem geegeez.co.uk

As we come to the end of another jumps season, one in which my 6-1 Sean Bowen to win the jockeys' title was arguably the best-value loser I’ll ever bet (yes, get those tiny violins out for me), I’d better be telling you about what April has been like on the road for us, writes David Massey. And that means all roads leading to Aintree, to begin with.

I decided to drive there myself this year as, with the weather threatening all four seasons over the three days, I’ve so much clothing and rainwear that I can at least leave the majority of it in the car each day, rather than go through the laborious process of transferring it all to my lift, and then having to sit on a postage-stamp sized space in the back as there’s no room left for me. It’s a good decision, plus it means the music there and back is a sight better. (Aintree playlist: Orange Juice, The Fall (obviously), The Wedding Present, A Certain Ratio, amongst others. It’s basically the best Indie Disco you’ll attend.)

Thursday morning, 8am, and we leave the hotel for the track. And here’s the first result of the day, and what a result: the bookies car park, which for the last two years has resembled something that they might have held Junior Kickstart on back in the day, has been paved over! Okay, not paved, but they’ve put down a lot of stones to try and remedy the situation. It works, to a point - some water is still seeping through, but let’s not moan, at least we aren’t dragging the kit through muck and mud. They make sure we pay for the privilege, mind, with prices increasing 40% year on year. Up go the expenses…

For the bookmakers, Aintree is about a lot of standing around in the mornings. You have to be there early because the pick time for your pitch is around 10am each day, but of course there’s no point in starting to bet until midday at the earliest. So there’s not much to do. Thankfully, I can go and get some work done and, more importantly, grab a tea and bacon roll in the media centre, to which I have access. Enjoy the cold, lads, I’m off to find a nice warm chair!

Thursday is always the quietest day of the three, but equally you’re far more likely to bump into a lumpy bet, which is exactly what happens when we go 11-10 Sir Gino in the Juvenile Hurdle. Despite some sketchy leaps late on, our intrepid punter never really has that much worry and he duly lands him his £1100 quid profit. Four of the first five favourites going in is a disaster for many of the books, and they hardly get any respite in the Red Rum with second-favourite Sans Bruit beating the favourite. Only Diva Luna in the last offers any respite.

I’m Southport-bound Thursday night to discuss some racing business with friends. I can’t reveal too much at this stage but all I can say is stay tuned, some exciting developments are in the pipeline that we hope can shake up the status quo a bit! Exciting times ahead, but I will say if we pull it off, it’ll probably be the end of my days working with the bookmakers, as my time will be taken up elsewhere. So enjoy the tales this summer, they may be the last…

Anyway, back to Aintree and Friday, Ladies Day. Let’s give the ladies of Liverpool their due; they know £2.50 each-way is a fiver, and that if there’s seven runners, you’ll only get first two each-way. Been brought up right, in my opinion. It seems packed out and almost inevitably, the push-and-shove means two lads start scrapping right in front of the joint. I should point out this is before the first race, too, so they aren’t even tanked up yet. There’s no security around to stop it, and we try and alert a nearby copper, but sadly he’s out on the track and can’t actually do a lot other than report it in. It’s fizzling out but one of the lads is covered in blood. Remarkably, he’s still around come Race 5, hawking a docket around, not knowing which bookie he’s had the bet with, so it’s not as if the course got active and kicked them out either. A very scary episode, particularly for a lot of young ladies who almost got caught up in it all, who hid around the back of the joint.

Back to the on-track action. Friday is FOMO day. For those of you not down with the kids, like what I am, FOMO means Fear Of Missing Out. In betting terms, what this means is that every group of lads you come across that bet with you will all back the same horse, generally the favourite. Win together, lose together. Nobody in that group wants to be the one to say they backed something else as the rest celebrate a winner. Nothing worse. So for the first, they all want to be on Inothewayurthinkin and although at various times he looks in trouble thanks to some shoddy jumping, by the time we reach the last it’s game over for the books as the jolly romps clear. A big payout, and all they want to do is play it up on Kateira.

When that wins the second (from the unlucky Jango Baie) I’m already into the reserve float for more twenties, but they’re piling in now, and Mystical Power is their latest target. Bang, in it goes, and the punters are up 3-0. This is chaos now. More reserves are called for. Bet, bet, bet, pay, pay, pay. It’s just relentless and for all we’re trying to keep up, the queues look endless. It’s just one big party and it’s at the bookmakers' expense. Jonbon next, and they can’t shovel it on quick enough. £200 win bets come at you like confetti. There are reports coming in of books running out of money, many having to have back bets with each other in an effort to put on a tourniquet to stop the bleeding away of money. We pray to the racing Gods to help us out and get this one beat, but they’re JP fans too, and as the jolly Jonbon hits the front two out and goes on to win, it is PANDEMONIUM.

I cannot, in words, give you a real sense of how bad things are at this point for some of the books but I kid you not when I say one more bad result and it might be the end for a few. Thankfully our tank is big enough to cope with another monster payout but we are eating through it. The crowd know they can’t lose on the day and they’re all-in on Shakem Up’Arry for the Topham.

You can almost hear the collective sigh of relief as ‘Arry is in no ‘urry to win, dropping right away on the home turn, and the 20-1 winner Arizona Cardinal is an excellent result for most of the books. It somewhat kills business off, with many punters pulling stumps well in front, which is a shame as the last two results are decent. Especially for me - I’ve backed El Jefe at 66-1 the day before, and it gets a right old roar as it comes from nowhere to win the lucky last. Oi oiiiii! First round is on me tonight, lads….

Grand National Day. I’m on a diet, which I might have mentioned before (just over a stone, thanks for asking) but stuff it, I’m having a full English, as it might be the only time I get to eat before it goes dark tonight. Extra bacon, extra hash brown. It’s on the expenses, after all.

We’re on track for 9am, and have a think about where’s best to bet. Last year we bet at the bottom of the “ramp” and it worked well, so that’s where we’ll go again today. Once in, I disappear off to the media centre for the final time. The champagne is out, and as it would be rude not to, I have a small glass. Unbeknownst to me, young Sam Boswell is live on Sky Sports Racing doing a piece and I manage to stand behind him in my salmon-pink shirt quaffing champagne, which causes a bit of merriment in the studio! Sam, I can only apologize…

Anyway, back to the joint at lunchtime and away we go. The earlier start time for the Saturday means it’s a little slow to get going but not too bad. Some of the books need a very good day to get in front after two days of being bashed from pillar-to-post. “If I just get the expenses for the week after today, I’d almost say that’s a result”, complains one Midlands bookie.

If we were hoping to get off to a good start, then Gwennie May Boy gives that a good kicking. Almost to the exclusion of everything else, it was money for either him or West Balboa. Into the float we go again.

“Please tell me we can get Brighterdaysahead beat, Davey Boy…”. Pinno has the prayer mat out already. I shake my head, as I think she’s a good thing. So she proves, and Bugise Seagull rolling in third (that’s surely spelt incorrectly, isn’t it?) at 50s smashes the each-way up as well.

Cruz Control is better in the Freebooter and Strong Leader is even better in the Liverpool Hurdle (it’s at the bottom of the board numerically, remember what I told you? Punters work from the top down when they don’t know what to back) but then it’s National time. Business for the big one is strong, with plenty of money around. Sadly, the majority of it is for I Am Maximus and Limerick Lace, and whilst the latter fades out of things in one of the most open Nationals I can remember for a long time, the former powers clear in the style of a good horse and the payout queues are long ones.

I say pay out - many of the lads, fuelled by some of Kimberley Ales’ finest, throw the lot back on Found A Fifty in the Maghull. With an hour’s gap between races, once they’ve had their bets they disappear off, which is just as well as the weather takes a terrible turn. The wind whips up, causing a tsunami of plastic pint pots to come tumbling down the ramp towards us, and the rain starts lashing in. This is reminiscent of a couple of years ago when similar happened, and it cleared the place in ten minutes then. None of this matters as Found A Fifty, who looks beat at the last as Master Chewy takes it up, rallies to the cause and gets back up. The roar is deafening and that’s basically game over.

Most don’t stick around for the last, preferring to take their hard-earned winnings and get going, which is a shame as the weather gets better but, alas, all too late. On the plus side, I find the winner of the bumper merely by watching them go to post, which was nice and will pay for the petrol home. It’s been three days to forget for many of the bookmakers - one of the major Festivals that they would expect to win at, for many a disaster, and that coming off the back of a mediocre Cheltenham for them will mean a major Spring rethink.

For me, this will be my last Aintree on the books. Next year, something completely different, as Monty Python might have said. Can’t say what yet, but whatever it is, I’ll not be getting any 6-1 about Sean Bowen winning the jockeys' title again. Not that I’m bitter about that, or anything…

- DM