Racing can’t survive without crowds

We all have weeks when every win bet finishes second and every each-way comes home in fourth. You begin to feel as though the Fates have something against you personally, as with the American punter who had lost his job, his wife and his home. Call him Fred Jones. On a seaside racecourse he invests his last ten dollars on a Tote jackpot. All six horses come in, but as he approaches the pay window, joyfully brandishing his win ticket, a gust of wind whips it from his hand and blows it out to sea. Despairingly, he sinks to his knees and implores aloud: ‘Just what have I done to deserve this?’ At which point the thunder clouds part for a moment and a voice from above declares: ‘I really don’t know, Jones. It’s just that there’s something about you which pisses me off.’

I have just had a Fred Jones-ish week.