SIMON NOTT blog: Gone to the Dogs

Badger was one of those old school bookmakers’ floormen who ducked and dived their way through their happy lives. I never even knew his real name but he was a lovely fella who’d always be able to save or get himself a few quid at the races, often both, writes SIMON NOTT.

Just to give you an idea, back in the days when racegoers would get a card badge on a bit of string when they’d paid to get in, Badger had that covered. He had a huge collection of them gathered over the years. On each day’s racing he’d compare the colours then offer up the nearest match, fool the gateman and get in for free. The badges would be punched with a hole on entry, so our hero had to be dexterous to cover them with fingers and thumb, especially as some of his badges were like Swiss cheese. Once in, he’d claim the official entry cost back from the boss.

Once at the races, he’d be eagled-eyed for a ‘scoop’, a stray banknote on the floor or floating in the breeze would rarely get past Badger, it would be in his skyrocket quick as a flash. Some days Badger would get the double bump. When Silver Rings were still vibrant, he’d sometimes be able to work for two bookmakers at once, on the radio in Tatts for a bookie in the cheap ring and working the floor for a layer in that enclosure. This of course was with each party oblivious of the other, it took some doing and he was always proud to tell you when he’d managed it.

When things were really ribby, Badger would go around the ring selling raffle tickets to bookmakers, not proper raffle tickets but the numbered cloakroom type. He’d declare the prize was a colour TV or a hi-fi and appear to sell quite a few that’s because he’d wait until the ring enjoyed a ‘result’ before scampering around. I don’t recall anyone actually winning a TV, if a ticket purchaser did enquire as to the winner of the previous draw, Badger wouldn’t tell them who had won, but gently break the news to whoever asked, that it hadn’t been them.

I used to think a lot of Badger, a lovely chap, always ducking always diving and always working, or so it seemed. The first time I visited Exeter greyhounds, he was there on the floor for a bookmaker. The dogs ran at the County Ground which was shared with Exeter Falcons speedway, I’d been to watch the Falcons several times as a kid, Stan out next door neighbour was mechanic for Scott Autry and Ivan Mauger, Exeter’s star riders. I’d seen the Tote betting kiosks there and often wondered why they were there as nobody bet on Speedway on course, or off back then.

Anyway, by the time I went to Exeter dogs it’s fair to say that they’d seen better days, the Tote windows dating from decades previous were no longer used, there were only a handful of bookies and the night I was there racing was held up for a bit while they welded the hare rail. Oh, and Badger tipped me a dog called ‘Hot Pasty’ it struck me funny at the time, if you were the proud owner of a dog, why would you call it ‘Hot Pasty’? Maybe the owner was called Greg, who knows.

Exeter dogs weren’t my first greyhound meeting I attended though, that was Swindon Dogs with the man who I have to thank for starting my charmed working life in betting, Dave Sims. Dave had taught me tictac in the Boar’s Head Inn and taken me to my first race meetings, the Mackeson at Cheltenham and Welsh National at Chepstow. We went to the dogs the night before one of those, if Dave reads this, I’m sure he’ll remember which, my brain’s like one of Badger’s card badges these days. The highlight of the night was that one race ended with a fairly close but not desperate finish. Dave was convinced a dog had won by a head or so.

Amazingly, the books were betting on it and offered about 1/8 over the ‘winner if I remember rightly, Dave had the lot on, everything he had, after all the dog had won. He was right, they called the result soon after and he went to draw from the bookie. He expressed surprise that the bookie had basically given him free money. The bookmaker told us that quite often the photo finish didn’t work so when the camera malfunctioned the judge called it a dead-heat. Realising how lucky he’d been, Dave suggested we headed to the pub instead, so we left well before the last.

Thinking back on it, my horseracing and greyhound racing as far as betting on it and being there in person goes, started almost in parallel. Horseracing got the nod as I suppose that’s where I got the offer to work for bookmakers, and had the ease to attend in those early days. My annual foray back into the dogs at Towcester brings back those memories.

‘The Dogs’ have outlasted horseracing in many ways, there’s still that edge to it, the characters you look at and think there’s probably a hell of a story, potentially a book’s worth, behind each of them and punters willing to back up their fancies with sizeable bets won or lost in races that are run in seconds rather than minutes.

Tremendous stuff, if you’ve not been and can get to Towcester, come and have a taste of how racing was, and only hazard a guess as to how frenetic Greyhound racing was in its heyday.