AUTHOR: Star Sports Content

BEN’S BLOG: ‘TRUE STORY: The Three Musketeers’

ben_keith_team-150x150[dropcap]Y[/dropcap]ou will often hear a lot of squealing, from people that don’t understand the game, regarding ‘chasing’. Nobody seems to feel sorry for a bookmaker, when a punter, day after day, blasts his way out, to secure a profit. So much so, that bookmakers will often bottle it, and give up, against a big-hitting chaser.

Value waits. And it waits. And sometimes it waits longer than you can ever imagine. But if there is anything I could possibly, have the temerity, to advise another person on, it would probably be waiting for value. If you’re doing it right, eventually it’ll come good. If you’re not, eventually you’ll get found out. And when the pain comes, it can, more often than not, all come in one go.

TRUE STORY

Once upon a time, there was a bookmaker. Let’s call him ‘Dave’.

And he had a man working for him in his betting shop. Let’s call him ‘Woody’.

Dave bought a new shop one day. During the excitement of moving in, and sorting everything out, Woody The Staff, came along to help out.

safeThere was a fabulous safe in the back of the shop. It was discovered though, that day, that you could enter the area of the safe, from the floor above.

Anyway, Blog, forget about that for a while. Let’s move on.

Let’s move on about five years.

Woody had left working for Dave and, along with two friends, had come into some money.

And like all good punters, he saw this as his chance. ‘If I had big money, I could really kick on as a punter. It would all be so easy.’. They love that one…

Woody and his mates became big players at the local dog-track. Him and his mates had a system. Yes, they did, Blog!

So much so, that their nickname was….’The Three Musketeers’.

And they were to be known, from then, and forever more, as ‘The Three Musketeers’.

And Dave was their bookmaker.

The system was to win £4k. Yes, to just win £4k…whatever the cost.

BEAUTIFUL.

So, if the first bet lost, the next bet was to win their losses, plus four grand. And so on. And one night…so on.

The last bet was £36k on a 5/4 chance.

And it won.

And they just kept winning and winning.

CLEVER.

Where were the holier-than-thou committee, then, to defend Dave The Bookie?

One night though, when he thought his luck would never change, as Dave entered the track, there was a different atmosphere. The girl he fancied on the front desk gave him a nice smile. He had a joke with the old boy who prepared the track. And as he approached his pitch, there was a clear light over his board and personal space in the betting-ring.

IT WAS TIME TO PASS THE PAIN BACK.

Loser, loser, loser, loser, loser, loser, loser.

Woody had now arrived, mentally, at a new place. A place that he had flirted with, again and again. A place that, deep down, in his subconscious, he had always wanted to visit, just for a few moments, to see what it felt like. His conscious though, had become a lion. No bookmaker would be taming him, Woody used to think. No one was strong enough to stand up to the Three Musketeers!

WRONG.

Dave did.

That night, The Three Musketeers, knocked out all of their profits, plus the £60k starting float. The pain came – ALL IN ONE GO.

As Dave left the track that night, head held high, back where it should be, he knew that he’d held his bollocks in place, and got the prize he fully deserved.

He drove home, but of course, dropped his float back to the safe in his shop.

The next morning. A Sunday.

The phone rang,

‘Hello’.

‘Is that Dave Smith?’.

‘Yes.’

‘Mr Smith, your betting shop has been broken into and the safe raided.’

3mBut the robber had made an error, Blog. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. One of his sticky little fingers had left a present for the police.

So, what’s the moral of the story?

NEVER EVER, EVER, EVER TRUST A PUNTER.

Over and out, B x

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