This post is a complete fiction. I made it all up. Don’t believe a word of it. Because, obviously, it can’t possibly be true. My family is more respectable than this.
It was in the early 70’s and my parents had just purchased the Sunol Ranch. My Dad agreed to let my Uncle George board a few race horses on the property. I have no idea how Uncle George ended up owning race horses, but then he was always up to something out of the ordinary.
My cigar chomping Uncle George
The thoroughbreds were beautiful to have around and I grew curious about the horse racing scene. Uncle George said he’d take me to the track and teach me a few things. My Dad, who loved horses, came along as well.
Uncle George proceeded to give me an education about handicapping horses. He was telling me about what to look for in a horse, about the jockeys, about how to bet various systems, and about studying the results to learn how to handicap future races. It was all very pragmatic and reasonable, as if you could handicap a race simply by doing your homework.
About the fifth race Uncle George said, “Okay, this is the race I’ve been waiting for.” He then whispered to me what was going to happen in the race. He explained how one horse was going to jump out to an early lead, the favorite horse was going to be caught in the pack and unable to make a move, and a third horse was likely to get an opening on the backstretch. He said that horse would then make a move and win. The horse was a long-shot (20-1, I think) and it seemed unlikely, but I just nodded my head.
Riding at the Ranch, circa 1970.
Sure enough, it happened exactly as he had predicted! It was like watching a play for the second time with the characters all performing exactly as you would expect, hitting their spots on the stage in a series of choreographed maneauvers.
As we cheered the winner I asked the obvious question, “How did you know?” He just smiled and shrugged. I had been around my Uncle George enough to know that this was his way of saying, “I’ll tell you later.” Which also meant he didn’t want to admit to anything in front of my Dad.
Later, in a private moment, I asked again. He smiled in a mischievous way and explained that the race was rigged. The jockeys had worked out a deal together and predetermined who would win. Somehow Uncle George had found out (he never did answer my questions about that).
We sat in silence as I contemplated this. I wasn’t sure that I believed him. I’m still not sure. It would be just like Uncle George to make himself look more connected than he really was. But still … he had predicted how the race would unfold and who the winner would be. And it was a 20-1 long-shot horse. My feelings about that were conflicted, to say the least.
Years later I reflected on the lesson from this experience. My Uncle George had explained all of the logical ways to handicap a race: look at the horse, check their records, compare the jockeys, consider the condition of the track, etc. But in the end all of that information wasn’t going to matter. Either there was a conspiracy among jockeys, in which case all the diligent study of the facts wasn’t going to matter, or there was a fluke winner that defied all of the odds.
The junkyard lesson that I learned that day? Well, two lessons really. First, the obvious, is that betting is foolish. Bet on yourself, but not on things you cannot control.
The second lesson is more subtle: look for the untold story. If you follow the rules, and assume that everybody else does, you are going to miss a lot of the details that really matter. No matter how well connected you are, there are conversations going on that you don’t know about. There are emails shared, looks exchanged, ideas considered … there are a lot of things happening outside of your control that will shape events. Never assume that things are going to go as they should.
It has come in handy to remind myself of that.