LOOK SHARPE: Gambling On The Record(s)

Sports betting PR legend GRAHAM SHARPE brings you his latest ‘LOOK SHARPE’ column…

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TALK ABOUT BEING typecast. I’d only been in my friend Julian’s record shop, Second Scene, in Bushey/Oxhey for a few minutes when he stopped flipping through the pile of discs he was pricing up and threw one of them towards me: ‘Here, you’re into gambling, you can have this. It’s only valued at six quid and I’ll never find anyone to buy it.’

The LP was by a solo singer who, even in 1958 when it had been released was hardly the trendiest of performers – Ronnie Carroll, but the cover of the album boasted an image of a playing card – the King of Hearts, with Ronnie’s face also presented as a version of the three of spades. Who knows why – there was no reference at all to gambling in the songs, other than the title of the record, ‘Lucky 13’.

Anyway, I took it to add to my ever increasing pile of gambling-related records, built up over many a year. There are some obvious ones – Abba’s ‘Winner Takes It All’ is often referenced when I ask others about this theme – ‘Bet Yer Life I Do’ by Hot Chocolate, ‘Betcha By Golly Wow’ by the Stylistics both come up frequently – but other suggestions slightly twist original wordings to reflect the betting angle – ‘Spencer Davis’ ‘Keep In (On originally) Running’, ‘Paul Young’s ‘Wherever I Lay My Nag (Hat) That’s My Home’ and a greyhound-related one I really like – ‘Roulette (Who Let) The Dogs Out’.

But the most ingenious example – from one Andy Dekka – I’ve heard is a variation on a popular Beatles’ track – When I’m 6/4′!

I’m sure my Star Sports’ colleague, Simon Nott, a fellow vinyl freak, will have some examples of his own…..and by the way, you may be interested to know that my latest book about vinyl records, with and without racing/gambling titles or themes, is called ‘On The Records’ and has just been published by Oldcastle Books.

On to a more somber subject – the time I was possibly the victim of attempted murder, maybe manslaughter – by form-book.

I used to have an office in which I had stored a cache of form-books dating back many a year – as far back as 1960, in fact. Back then and for many years after these book came in the form of loose-leaf pages, collected between plastic or, I rather thing, ironically enough, vinyl covers. They were the preferred method of collecting the form on a regular basis back in the days when the internet had yet to achieve its current pre-eminence.

Not that long ago, I had caused to need to discover the outcome of a number of races from years gone by for a piece I was writing, so I decided to consult the stash of hard copy form-books, by now gathered together in a cupboard.

There were fifty-plus volumes, which I got out and began looking through, noticing as I did so that the plastic/vinyl covers of several of them had deteriorated somewhat and looked as though they were actively melting. They were also emanating a rather pungent scent.

Undeterred, I worked on, leafing through the books, gradually teasing out the required information.

As I did so I began to feel somewhat queasy – which I put down to not having had chance to take any sustenance while becoming wrapped up in what I was doing.

Once I’d finished my delving into, and searching out of results I realised that I now felt distinctly ill, and appeared to be suffering from unpleasant stomach cramps.’Swine flu or somesuch’ I reassured myself, before struggling up to the bedroom and taking to my bed, feeling iller and iller. That was a night I would not wish to suffer ever again but I finally managed to drop off to sleep and awoke definitely feeling much better.

I still hadn’t twigged the reason for this experience, until I returned to the form books – and the moment I caught a whiff of the cover of one of them the ill feeling began to emerge again.

I took immediate but very drastic action and consigned the whole heap of form books to the dustbin, quashing the thought that they were probably worth a nice few bob to a racing book collector.

I rather think that as an author of a good many titles over the years, this was an occasion during which I was almost brought literally to book!

I recently met up with a few pals of vintage years who I have known for a great deal of my time on the betting business – amongst them, and possibly the youngest of us around the table, (actually, I’m pretty sure he’s older than me, but I don’t want to upset him) was the ever sprightly Wally Pyrah, now to be read tipping up winners (occasionally) in City AM newspaper’s coverage of Hong Kong racing. I met Wally way back when he used to be the spokesperson for a large bookmaking company. We were rivals, of course, but friendly ones.

However, despite having now known him for decades I’d never been aware that his Dad was a bookie – if not exactly a legalised one. Wally’s grandmother owned a pub in Morecambe before betting shops were legalised, and her son, Harry – Wally’s pater made a book for the customers. All went well until the 1948 Grand National was won by 50/1 Sheila’s Cottage – who, ironically, Wally’s dad had tipped to many of his punters.

Harry, also a greyhound owner, brought his family south when he got a job as a settler for a credit betting company – and it was his influence which resulted in young Wally becoming a school bookie in Croydon – which resulted in him being referred to the headmistress on Derby day 1958 – however, as he had tipped her the 18/1 winner, Hard Ridden, he got off lightly….

Wally fancied becoming a jockey and even worked for trainer Staff Ingham in Epsom but eventually literally outgrew his ambition, becoming too tall.

He joined Raceform in Battersea, then the Evening Standard, working on their racing desk for a dozen years, eventually leaving and moving into the bookmaking world. The biggest compliment I can pay this ever-smiling pal is that he certainly doesn’t live up to the usual use of his abbreviated Christian name, to describe someone in a critical manner Wally is no ‘Wally’!

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Views of authors do not necessarily represent views of Star Sports Bookmakers.

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