Professional Gambler & Bookmaker: Freddie Williams

It's November 2005. The location: Cheltenham racecourse. It's about an hour before the first race - the opening day of the Paddy Power Gold Cup meeting. 

Under a grey sky, with steadily dropping temperatures, the crowd gathers. In the betting circle bookies are pitching. 

Barry Dennis shouts prices back and forth. Gregory and John Hughes watch the crowd. Andy Smith and John Christie await the first bets of the day. Mickey 'The Asparagus Kid' Fletcher, his face like a 'Wanted' poster, scowls from the sidelines. But Scotsman Freddie Williams, a famed drama actor, hasn't yet arrived.

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Miniature in stature he may be, he's known as the biggest bookmaker at Prestbury Park.

Freddie delays his entrance, sitting comfortably in his Jaguar a hundred yards away in the members' car park. His daughter Julie, and other members of his on-course team are already in place on the pitch. I bet he was never tempted by pokies online or any other slots for that matter. Freddie, the softly spoken boss, confers with them by phone, always monitoring the early activity and estimating the moves of the day. At the Cheltenham Festival in March 1999, JP McManus - a feared pro gambler of racing legend - has a colossal £100,000 each way at 7/1 on his own horse in the Pertempts Hurdle Final. This wasn't some transaction by chance. It was a very deliberate, planned, almost hand-to-hand combat in the heat and gun-smoke of the Festival. Shannon Gale, trained by Christy Roche, finished fourth and JP collected £175,000 from the each-way part of his wager. If he had finished first, Freddie Williams would have had a payout in the ballpark of the £900,000. To clearly understand what makes him such an accomplished man we need to take a look at his whole life. What makes his story so interesting is not just his enthusiastic embrace of customary betting and his detest for the cautious, corporate approach of the big betting-shop chains but also credit that this is a man came from a modest beginning and earned the right to be a player on the greatest racing stage of them all.

Freddie was born in 1942 in Cumnock, East Ayrshire. His father was a miner, like his father before him. Freddie, like the rest of his male relations and colleagues, would have gone down the pit himself had he not failed the medical exam at the age of 15. Instead he became a mining engineer. He wasn't interested in betting for fun although many a punter has been tempted to visit gambling360 online casino to see what all the fuss is about. Unlike the Williams family I really should have considered the probability of winning and losing. After a few years Freddie went to work for a soft drink company. Everyone knew bet in those days, and the backbone of gambling in the mining communities was 'pitch and toss'. Horse racing, especially jump racing, was exerting a far greater allure.

I was lucky to earn a pound a week at the time. I kept my money in a tin box. There were illegal betting offices all around Ayrshire and I put every dime I could on Pas Seul. He made it to the last stretch but then he fell.' Williams laughs sorrowfully at the memory. 'Kerstin stayed on to win the race.

Pas Seul made no mistake the next year, though.' Freddie's was not alone in his love of a punt.In fact it was shared by his workmates at Currys.

He bought his first bookmaking pitch at Ayr in 1974, followed by one in Hamilton and one in Musselburgh. He would go on to own seven betting offices. After Currys was bought out again in 1991, Freddie, already worth over a million, started his own bottled-water business called Caledonian Clear.

Some of competitors like to say that it must be very nice to try bookmaking when you have another job paying your bills.However, Freddie emphatically denies racing job is some sort of sideline. 'Bookmaking is my livelihood and my passion in life.' Freddie has said.

The enthusiasm and nerve Freddie brings to his job is something the Southerners had not witnessed for themselves until the massively overdue reforms that allowed racecourse pitches to be bought and sold at public auction in the late 1990s. The old-fashioned system of Dead Man's Shoes, the bookmaking pitches were restricted to successive generations of the same family, was a sort of Masonic protection swindle that shut out new money and new faces from the ring.

The Scotsman got an early start on 1st January 1999 and again in March. It didn't take McManus to seek him out. As well as conflicting Shannon Gale, the bookmaker also accepted Nick Dundee. Dundee was the Irish banker of the week. The young novice ran in the colours of McManus' close friends John and Sue Magnier. But Freddie didn't fancy Nick Dundee. 'I was going 11/8, One gentleman wanted £80,000 on, and I laid it to him, but I didn't take down the price. He looked at me for a moment then asked for the bet again. So I laid him another £110,000 to £80,000, but I still not taking down the price.'

It was a close-run race. Then it happened Nick Dundee's legs buckled landing over the third last fence. Plus, presumably, the sound of one Scottish heart beating faster. Freddie was not always so lucky.

Although the bookie and punter seem to be natural enemies, they also tend to respect each other alot. 'We're friends,' says Williams sincerely. 'John was in business as a bookmaker for 15 years. He had a good bet on Dawn Run when she won the Gold Cup in 1986 and that helped him to change his life. However, he told me that if she'd lost, he'd have been skint the following week.'

Freddie admits, 'Festival trading is totally draining, which is why I stay in a nice, quiet hotel. When you get back, all you want to do is eat and sleep. I'm afraid I'm well behind in the entertainment stakes.'

There was plenty of entertainment on November '04, though: The Rising Moon, running in the McManus colours, was the medium of a £100,000 plunge at 3/1. Half an hour later, JP's Spot The Difference won the Sporting Index cross-country chase. Someone stuck on £28,000 at 7/1 for a payout of nearly two hundred grand.

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Frederick Sidney Williams, soft-drink manufacturer and bookmaker: born Cumnock, Ayrshire 28 October 1942; married Sheila Edwards (two daughters; marriage dissolved 2006); died Cumnock 21 June 2008

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Freddie Williams: Bookmaker of amazing boldness by Tony Smurthwaite, The Independent 


Freddie Williams was the buccaneering bookmaker who left onlookers amazed by an incredible boldness that, at the end of one remarkable day at the races, had cost him £1m. He attained celebrity status as the immovable object that met the irresistible force of J.P. McManus, the singularly audacious punter whose huge wagers during the Cheltenham National Hunt Festival each March are one of horse-racing's constants.


Their personal conflict might have bankrupted lesser players, yet relations were always cordial amid McManus's six-figure investments. Such Corinthian spirit, made easier by each man's wealth, captivated many who followed the betting moves at the leading racing and greyhound meetings, and made Williams a hugely popular and high-profile bookmaker.

Williams's most bruising encounter with McManus came on a day he would never forget, as it was to end in terror. It began at the Cheltenham Festival on 16 March 2006. McManus had struck a £100,000 bet to win £600,000 on Reveillez, who won, then followed up with £5,000 each way on Kadoun, another of his horses, at 50-1. When Kadoun won, in the last race of the day, Williams owed McManus more than £1m. As if that were that not bad enough, on driving away from the course in his Jaguar with his daughter Julie and her boyfriend, Andrew, Williams was ambushed by an armed gang. Though the three escaped physically unscathed, the ordeal shook them badly. The assailants were said to have made off with £70,000.

It had long been Williams's ambition to be a bookmaker at Cheltenham. Born in the coal-mining heartland of Cumnock, South Ayrshire, he developed an aptitude for laying odds at a young age, watching the miners playing endless games of pitch and toss. "There was nothing to do then but work and gamble," recalled Williams, whose grandfather and father had both gone down the pit. Freddie's first role model was his great-grandfather. When a pit accident robbed him of an arm, cut off in an accident, he recovered to set up in business as a coal merchant.

Freddie was bedridden as a child and missed out on pit life after failing a medical as a result of polio. He swept floors in the local Curries of Auchinleck lemonade factory, and acted as a bookie's runner before graduating to lay his own odds in a small way at Auchinleck greyhound track.

Though his schooling was interrupted and his education compromised, Freddie Williams had an aptitude that allowed him to rise to manager at the lemonade plant. A buy-out among staff increased his involvement, and later he took over the business. In 1991 he sold his stake and four years later opened the alcopop manufacturer Caledonian Bottlers, which boasted a state-of-the-art factory employing 50 full-time staff, and used natural Scottish spring water.

Williams maintained, however, that bookmaking, not bottling, was his livelihood. He had established a bookmaker's pitch at Ayr racecourse in 1974, where he became known as a daredevil, and then put his name down for a coveted spot at Cheltenham. But the "dead man's shoes" system of bookmaker pitch transfer was a source of great frustration, and Williams languished on the waiting list for 20 years. In one interview, he said: "I started off at 120 on the list and by the 1990s I was at number 40. It was never going to happen, but then the rules changed and you could buy a pitch. I was the first to buy one. I thought, 'Here I am! I'm not just here for a day out – I'm taking on the biggest hitters in the game.' "

So it was that on 1 January 1999, Williams arrived for Cheltenham's traditional New Year's Day meeting. McManus tested his nerve immediately, placing £90,000 on the Queen Mother's runner Buckside. The 2-1 favourite led at the last fence, but faded into second place. Seven weeks earlier, Williams had undergone a quadruple heart bypass.

He never looked back. In March 1999 he took on McManus and other big hitters over the three days of the National Hunt Festival. He clearly loved the cut and thrust, never flinching no matter how high the stakes. "Fearless" Freddie was soon in his pomp, making appearances on Channel 4 racing where he shared his love of the betting ring, and the game of wits, bravado and instinct he waged with customers, who ranged from heavy hitters to £2 punters at Glasgow's Shawfield greyhound track.

Shannon Gale marked the start of battle royal with McManus. Williams accepted a bet of £100,000 each way on the 7-1 chance. Honours were shared when the horse ran fourth, ensuring an each-way payout of £175,000 rather than the £875,000 had it won.

Williams enjoyed studying his clients as much as the horses, seeking give-away signs of confidence or uncertainty. He stood at other racecourses and at greyhound tracks, and owned a string of racehorses. In 2004 he bought the 78 St Vincent Street restaurant in Glasgow, installing his daughter Julie as manager, it was said to stop her following him into the betting game. When his marriage broke down in 2006, it was reported that a £1m divorce settlement had been agreed.

Williams worked until he dropped, suffering a heart attack after a day spent working at Ayr races and an evening working at Shawfield. His philosophy was summed up in the view that the final race each day did not mean an end to the winning or the losing. "There is no last race," he would often say.

Photo: JC 2024 (All Rights Reserved) 

Pro Gamblers: Proud To Be A Betting Man

An old story originally published in the Northern Echo, 2002 by Ruth Campbell. A fascinating read about professional gambler Paul Cooper. 

For most gamblers, having a flutter is more of a bit of fun than a serious attempt to get rich. But Ruth Campbell meets one man for whom a day at the races means earning a living.

PAUL Cooper greets me by the gate of his imposing five-bedroom Georgian farmhouse, set in 100 acres, in North Yorkshire. There is a gleaming four wheel drive and an Alexis with the personalised number plate PC2 parked in the courtyard.

The former public schoolboy is charming and polite, and surrounded by the trappings of his success. If I were a betting woman and were asked, from first impressions, to guess what he did for a living, I would plump for accountant or stockbroker, or something in the City.

I'd be wrong. Paul Cooper is a professional gambler. It is hard to know what a professional gambler is supposed to look like - there are not many working in the UK and just two or three, like Paul Cooper, are big players.

Cooper, 43, has bet £44m over the last 23 years and made just under £1m. He started with just a few pounds, which means he has enjoyed some spectacular wins, but at the same time endured some horrendous losses.

"I would almost bet on the proverbial fly crawling up a wall if I thought I could win. I more or less bet every day," he says.

He lost £26,000 on David Chapman's sprinter Glencroft in the 1988 Bovis Handicap. But the following year he won an incredible £250,000 after laying out just £432 on a tricast (guessing the first three horses in order) at Thirsk.

And then there was his nailbiting near miss in the States. Tantalisingly close to winning $5m after placing the winners in six out of seven races, his horse in the seventh race missed by a nose.

These are the sorts of highs and lows which would reduce the rest of us to jittery, nervous wrecks. But Cooper is cool, calm and measured. To him, it may as well be just another day at the office. There is none of the impulsiveness or recklessness we associate with habitual gamblers.

His wife Danielle, an interior designer, takes the ups and downs of her husband's unusual career in her stride: "I was surprised at what he did, I had never met a professional gambler. But you marry the person you marry, I accept it."

The couple have two children Clementine, two, and Cordelia, four months: "It is like a volatile business, no different than being married to a stockbroker," adds Danielle. Indeed, Paul regards the £44m he has laid out over the years as turnover and keeps detailed accounts. "I lost money last year and this year I am level. I could do with another quarter of a million pound win," he smiles.

His analytical, computer-like mind, combined with an instinctive eye for a good horse, is complemented by his incredible discipline: "I am not flippant about it, it is an art form if you like. It is quite mathematical." At one point he did work as a Lloyds insurance underwriter: "Insurance is similar, but a lot more risky than gambling on horses."

The son of a farmer, Cooper's gambling career began at the tender age of four when his parents took him to Derwent point-to-point. He bet four shillings on a horse called Paul's Diamond, which won at 100-1, and was hooked. He left Stowe public school at 17 to work on the racing magazine Stud and Stable. Out of his first wages, a £1.90 stake on the ITV seven, won him £800. Within two years, he had collected £13,365 for a £3 accumulator. That bought him a plush London flat overlooking the Thames. By then he realised he could live off gambling and turned professional. His parents didn't mind: "My mother was amused," he says.

Although he wouldn't want his own children to follow in his footsteps, he never thought of doing anything else: "It is what I know and understand." Much of his success can be put down to his meticulous research of times, trainers, form and track bias.

Immediately before a race, he views the horses, then takes about five minutes to weigh up odds and make a decision, staking between £50 and £1,000 a time. There is no adrenaline, no nerves: "I am as relaxed as can be. It is conditioning."

Cooper has his forensic approach to thank for his incredible £250,000 win at Thirsk (which got him into the Guinness Book of Records), followed by a £178,000 win there the year after.

He doesn't pick favourites, as they give poor value. "On days when a whole string of favourites win, I tend to lose." He likes discovering trainers who are underestimated, he virtually never backs a maiden and homes in on high quality races: "I love group races and big events."

Whatever happens, Cooper keeps a cool head. Like a good poker player, he rarely betrays emotion. He recalls that, despite losing £61,000 after three days at Ascot one year, friends assumed he was having a good run. "Most people would not be able to tell how I was doing," he explains. (Incidentally, he adds, he won all the money back again by the Friday.)

He appears to dismiss huge losses easily, but admits: "It is a rollercoaster. I don't think anyone enjoys the lows." He regards the bookies as public enemy number one. The feeling is probably mutual. He has had 41 credit accounts closed over the years. "It is an incredibly unfair service," he says.

He plays the lottery, £8 every week but has won nothing - yet. Because most people pick birth dates, he goes for numbers 32-49 which are better value and linked with higher wins. "There is an edge to picking the high numbers." Beating the system intrigues him, he says, financial rewards come second.

In addition to his gambling, he is now in charge of sponsorship for Betfair.com, a betting exchange launched in June 2000 which links people who want to bet on anything, from horses to the stock market.

Where bookmakers make about 20pc on every race, Cooper points out Betfair, which now has a turnover of £17m a month, takes just 2-5pc commission. "It is rather like buying stocks and shares without the need of a stockbroker," he says.

Cooper has recently returned to his roots, buying the house near Thirsk where he was born and enjoyed a happy childhood.

Occasionally it does cross his mind that his life may be misguided. But betting is in his blood. "Yorkshire people love horses, it is in our roots," he says. "I am not leaving home again. This is home for the rest of my life."

**KNOW THE BEST HORSES IN TRAINING (BEFORE THEY RACE!)**

The Gambler's Gambler...

Gamblers. A special breed. Those punters who went that step further to take on the bookmakers at their own game. Read this collection of articles which detail individuals which not only won big time but in the process made a name for themselves. Be inspired by these gamblers. Learn what made them tick, gave them an edge and become their specialty. It's intriguing to note how each favourite bets contrasted greatly so they all found their niche. Fascinating reading. 

John Aspinall   
Harry Findlay 
Dave Nevison 
Alan Woods 
Barney Curley
Freddie Williams 
J P McManus 
Paul Cooper 
Sydney Harris 
Phill Bull 
Jack Ramsden 
Alex Bird 
The Shadow
Clive Holt 
The Computer Group
The Art Of Manliness: I'm A Professional Gambler
The Hidden Cost Of Being A Pro Gambler  
Becoming A Professional Gambler
Kid Delicious: Pool Hustler
Random Pro Gambler: My Story  
A Tale Of A Pro Gambler 
Meet The 9 - 5 Gamblers  
The Opportunities Of A Professional Gambler: Eddie Murray  

Who is your favourite gambler of all time? Detail your thoughts by leaving a comment. 

Christatos Aristad: Pro Gambler

Today we feature a singularly interesting and unique job, that of the professional gambler. Many a man has gambled in his day, whether with real money or cookies. But Christatos Aristad was able to parlay his talents in gambling into a real profession, a lucrative one at that. While some may see professional gamblers as a bit shady, Mr. Aristad is of an older school of gambler, and is the consummate gentleman. Recently retired, he’ll be penning a series of articles for AoM on the basics and etiquette of a variety of games.


1. Tell us a little about yourself (Where are you from? How old are you? Where did you go to school? Describe your job and how long you’ve been at it, ect).


My name is Christatos Aristad. I was born in London, and I am 52 years old. I went to Cambridge entirely as a product of family connections and spent a completely unspectacular 4 years there mostly drinking and gambling with my fellow students. I then made a go at a Medical Degree to complete a childhood dream of being a doctor and discovered that my patented combination of drinking and gambling did not work at all in the more difficult atmosphere of graduate degrees and dropped out in my first year. I picked up gambling professionally about half a year later at the age of 24 and have been doing it ever since. As you can imagine, there isn’t really a formal education for gamblers. I am currently in the process of retiring, and am trying to figure out where to settle down.

2. Why did you want to be a professional gambler? When did you know it was what you wanted to do?

When I completely flunked my way out of graduate school. I was only ever good at one thing, gambling. I wanted to be a doctor, but I was good at gambling. After I flunked out of medical school, and realized it was because I was going to make a terrible doctor, I decided to try gambling. After playing in small games and small casinos for awhile, I had enough to try larger games. Eventually, I got rung up by a man with a pocket full of cash and a game he wanted to win who didn’t think he could do it on his own. He paid my stake, I played the game, and we both walked away quite happy. That game got me invited to a respectable London betting parlor, The Portland Club, which got me into the scene. After that, I accrued all the contacts you needed in those days to play your way to a hot meal, a firm roof and a clean suit.

3. Many men gamble for fun. How did you move from being a recreational gambler to making it your profession?

A combination of necessity and pure enjoyment. There was no single moment where I just slid into being a professional gambler, but there was a point where I realized I didn’t have any other source of income. At that point, I decided to stick with making money through gambling and keep leaching off of the rich men with dreams of poker, bridge, backgammon, euchre and craps and just keep going. Thinking about it, I guess it’s like being in a band except with shorter hair, no instruments, and regular bathing. The second part is access. Getting the invitation to the Portland Club was, for me at least, the golden ticket. Without that, I think I probably would have settled down and stayed local. But after meeting the people I did in The Portland Club and making the connections I did, especially through the man who invited me, everything else became possible.

4. You often gambled with other people’s money. Will you explain how that worked and how you went about finding people to back you?

The first question implicit in that is how does the backer and booking agent relationship work, and the truth is that it works like any other job where you have a backer; you just have to look harder and in different places. People have money and want to invest in games and players, booking agents act as middlemen and talent scouts, and players act as talent. The problem is getting discovered. To be honest I’m not sure how that works today. When I was playing, it was just a matter of being a poorer but better player, playing for wealthier men who could barely hold their cards, and staying in the business as it evolved. Today the business is changing, as tournaments are becoming more popular among emerging talent, despite the fact that they hold less money over the long term and that people are committing to poker and blackjack over baccarat and craps.

The second part of that answer would probably take a book to explain, and more experience than I have if you wanted an idea of how it works beyond how I do it. My booking agent for most of my career has been my dear friend, Albert Hull, the man who swung me an invitation to the Portland Club. Albert has made his career, and much of my own, finding games for me to play, or money for me to play with. Generally, one of us gets wind of new money in the system, or a juicy game down the pipe, and we start our engines. If new money is in the system, Albert, being a real blue blood, and a man with a legitimate job and some actual connections, woos the financier until they agree to open their wallets and give us a taste, and I just grab the nearest chair with a deck of cards or handful of dice in reach. If a game is in the pipes, Albert taps one of our reliable money people, and I start making waves about wanting a place at the table. If my name checks out, my check clears, and I don’t come across as a complete ass to the people running the game, we’re steady.

5. What is the best part of the job?

The rush. I have done a lot of things in my life other than gamble, but nothing compares to gambling with real gamblers. The rush of slowly coming to control the game. The moment of realization when you know you are in charge, the mathematical reduction of each players stock of chips. The steady duel between you and the other winner. Each of the fine moments that remind you why you deserve to be sitting at that table. Winning is really a letdown after that steep and steady high. If I had my way the game would never end. But if you draw it out forever and never go for the throat, you lose control, and they eat you alive. The price of the high is that YOU have to end it. A rather terrible realization when it comes to you, really. But then it is that moment of realization that separates the professionals from the hustlers. A professional enjoys what he does, but knows at the end of the day that he has to keep what he does about business. For all the pleasure he derives from it, if he loses sight of the bottom line, he is digging his own grave. A hustler never sees what they are doing for what it is. They think you can balance out the fun and the money, and keep riding the rush. They are wrong. In this business, just as in life, you must grow up. For a time yes, you can play for fun and money, and live for rush after rush, but after a time, if you don’t grow up, you are living on the edge of a razor every time you play. Because in every single game there is that critical moment when the fun must end and business must begin, and you must put the competition away. A hustler never learns to see that moment for what it is and wins on luck or skill. That is until they meet an old hand who knows the game well enough to survive long enough to learn their style and drive them into the ground once they run out of tricks. I have seen it happen at least half a dozen times, and it is never pretty to watch a hungry young kid get bled dry by someone who doesn’t really need the money, but sees it as more of a lesson than anything else. I guess it is a commentary on the job that the best part is a double-edged sword.

6. What is the worst part of the job?

Playing sports. Horse racing, college games, professional, whatever. Whenever a backer came to Albert or me with a fat stack of money and told us to make him a mint off the next season of his favorite sport we died a little inside. Playing a game, you can only control 50% of the variables at most. But betting on sports, you control nothing. All you can do is play the odds and that’s just luck. And luck is the biggest bitch in the world. She will leech you dry and then bury you alive under a pile of flesh eating beetles before building an explosive broken glass factory on top of the pile, then burn it down.

The things I have seen luck and chance do to gamblers over the years are damn ugly. Look at a betting pool sometime, and recognize the math that makes it worth your investment. If 200 players invest $50.00 in the pool and only 5 win any money, at a graded rate, then 195 lose their entire stake entirely on non-controllable factors for a non-computable chance of winning 1 out of 5 graded prizes that depend on 195 losers for their value. That is the nature of luck. The tiny percentage of winners are chosen randomly by statistics to suck every penny out of you, the vast majority of players’ pockets, so that the prize at the end of the tunnel is large enough to keep everyone interested and playing. And the word for you, the vast majority of players by the way, is losers. All gambling is dependent on this system, sports betting is just more direct about it so I can’t squeeze my way out of confronting it. It makes me feel like a very bad person. In a game, you can say with some confidence that everyone there is in control and knows the score, but with sports, the entire system is crooked from start to finish.

7. What is the biggest misconception people have about the job?

That it is just numbers. Counting cards, knowing the odds, is really not the point. If you can’t read people, you are going to be wearing a comically large barrel in a very short period of time. What’s more, there is no such thing as a “tell.” People do not play an entire game of poker and reveal themselves with a single tick unless they are really, really bad liars. They have a pattern, a series, a system of ticks and twitches and so on that tell you a lot more than, GOOD! BAD! LIE! TRUTH! If you don’t know people and how they work, you are out of money very quickly. My impression for awhile has been that people think if you sat the internet down at a table that it would be some kind of Rainman winning machine. It would not. Pattern recognition and math are fine and good for beating the house, but for a professional, beating the house isn’t the issue. The issue is beating people who already own the house, a cabin, and several lovely vacation spots. These people don’t need to worry about the odds. They need to worry about you. And you them. It is like playing cards with wolves. They smell fear.

8. What is the work /family/life balance like?

You get one, then the other. There is no balance. When the game is on and the backing is in, you are on a plane. The people who set up the game, and the people who pay for your ticket, do not care in the slightest if your wife is pregnant, your daughter is teething, or your son is in his school’s presentation of the “Parade of Nutrition” or whatever the heck children do. They either find someone else, or they don’t play. I have known some players to have a family, but I wouldn’t recommend it. That hollow look in a man’s or woman’s eye when they sit down at the table during their child’s birthday is probably the saddest thing in the world, and no one can play worth a damn in that condition. It hurts to win when you know the score, and I have always tried to tell them to back out if I knew, but most don’t. A job is a job, and back out even once, and they might never call again. This is not to say that you cannot date, but if you have any intention of forming a meaningful relationship before you retire, I would suggest a more family friendly line of work, like mobster or deep sea diver.

9. Some would say that gambling is not an “honorable” profession. How would you respond to such critics?

I would agree. On the other hand, I never sit at a table with anyone who doesn’t want to be there. The truth is that “real” professionals aren’t usually the kind of people who play at a public table at Vegas with Bob from Idaho who’s betting the farm on that last hand of Blackjack. We do not play at $5.00 tables. We do not sit at $500.00 tables. Unless there is a lack of space, we sit in private rooms, and we play with no limit. We play with big money and know what we are doing. If someone at the table stakes themselves and places a bet that they can’t afford to lose, I have no pity. This is not a game for fun, this is a game for profit, and any good businessman knows you should never risk going into debt you can’t handle. The reward should always outweigh the risk, and no reward in gambling outweighs getting beaten by a bookie or losing your house on the roll of a dice.

And as for people who gamble themselves away in the ordinary casino, I have always had reduced pity for them. Gambling is not a way to make money unless it is the way you normally make money. It is a good way to have a good time and lose your shirt, but anyone who has taken a statistics class know that even if the casinos didn’t tilt the odds in their favor, the odds would already be in their favor, even if you were a statistically ideal player making perfectly rational choices and bets every time. And I have met exactly one person who meets that definition, and I do not know that I would call that young man a person so much as a freak. Casinos know they have you fighting an uphill battle the second you step in. But if you should ever go gambling and earnestly want to make money, all I ask is that you figure out this piece of advice, and it’s importance before you do: Play the other players, not the house.

10. Any other advice, tips, or anecdotes you’d like to share?

Quite a lot actually. But I will break it down to three pieces of advice, and anecdotes and tips on request if I deem them reasonable and that is within the rules of our generous host. These are of course, my opinion, and not universal rules.

Never bet a penny more than you can afford to lose. There is no reward in gambling worth going into debt with the people who are willing to let you play. Only bet money you don’t need. How do I define don’t need? Unless you are a professional I would strongly recommend against gambling with anything more than 15% of your net disposable income for the month. That is the money you don’t need. A fraction of the money you have for frivolities, that month. If you have to save up for months to make big bets, that is a message from God, Allah, Vishnu, Buddha, your Banker, or whoever, that you should stick to the $5.00 tables and keep it tight. Fun should never be so fun that it costs you or a family member something you will regret. Regrets are for love and drinking, nor for gambling.

In a card game containing 5 players, no matter the game or rules, after 1 hour of play or ten hands there are 2 winners and 3 losers. If you don’t know who the winners are, you are one of the losers. If you are one of the losers, walk away. The winners are the winners because they are better than you, not because of luck. Luck never lasts long enough to save you from yourself. If you are one of the winners, try to determine if you are the big winner or the small winner. If you are the small winner, play it safe. If you are the big winner, don’t let it get to your head, or you will magically become the small winner, and eventually a loser. These proportions expand pretty well, but let me simplify the principle. There is always a steep ratio between winners and losers in any game. If you don’t know you’re a winner, you’re a loser. If you’re a loser, count your losses and leave.

Don’t let it ride. Don’t ever, ever, ever, ever let it ride. Pocket the winnings, and then decide on a new bet. The dice don’t like you, the cards aren’t magic, you aren’t lucky tonight, and neither is your girlfriend/boyfriend/that cute guy/girl you just met at the bar who you think might have a thing for you who’s gambling with you. You will thank me later. And if you don’t, shame on you for not listening to your mother

Pro Gambler Series: Paul Cooper

Paul Cooper had his own unique way of gambling for profit, and he used his knowledge of draw bias at British racecourses coupled with an unusual bet called the Tricast to win over £400,000 on a number of bets at Thirsk racecourse. Cooper noticed before virtually any one else that horses drawn high over the straight sprint course at Thirsk appeared to have a distinct advantage. There are a number of racecourses with distinct draw biases around the country. Chester and Beverley probably being the most prevalent but the difference at Thirsk was that the bias was just as marked on fast ground as it was on soft ground. The reason for this was that the watering system at Thirsk left a lot to be desired, and it left a strip of ground next to the stands rail which was unwatered and therefore significantly faster than the rest of the track.

Cooper would perm those 5 or 6 horses drawn highest in tricasts, and therefore the ones who would be running on the favoured fast ground these 5 or 6 often included several complete outsiders and when his bet came in which it did more often than not the return was massive.

Cooper is certainly not a £10,000 win single guy, and is fascinated by the returns which you can get from multiple bets. He believes that the Lucky 15 is a value bet. A Lucky 15 is a Yankee (6 doubles, 4 trebles and an accumulator) plus 4 win singles. The major bookmakers normally often some form of concession with the bet. For instance if you only have one winner they will double the odds. So one 7/1 winner means that you will just about get your money back.



Here are Paul Coopers tips for successful betting on the horses:

1.Always stay cool, calm and collected when making a selection. Don't let your emotions affect your selection.

2.Only bet when you believe that you are getting good value.

3.Look to back horses with winning form, be very wary of maidens.

4.Concentrate on Sprint races the form is often more reliable than longer distance flat races.

5.Try and find a small competent yard to follow. You will get much better prices on their horses than those of the larger stables.

6.Don't back odds on favourites.

Pro Gambler Series: Alan Woods

Alan Woods, was universally recognised as among the top three punters in the world. Woods, born and raised in New South Wales Australia was the pioneer of computer betting syndicates in Hong Kong and a key man in the development of computer analysis for betting. His fortune at the time of his death was estimated at $670 million. The Woods betting syndicate became a legend in the world of Hong Kong racing, where huge amounts of money are invested into the tote pools. For the 2006-07 racing season, the Hong Kong Jockey Club recorded a betting turnover of $US64billion ($71.46bn). It has been estimated the input to annual turnover by Woods and his syndicate was about 2% of that figure.

"I would not think that estimate is an exaggeration," said John Schreck, former chief steward for the Australian Jockey Club in Sydney and later for the HKJC in the late 1990s and into the early years of the new millennium when Woods' syndicate was operating at full steam.

"To my knowledge, he never ever came racing while I was there. But he employed dozens of Filipinos running around carrying mobiles and hundreds of thousands of dollars in cash waiting for instructions on how and what to bet.

"There was a time the Jockey Club closed his account but this was through a silly policy adopted from a misjudgment in management. In the main, the Jockey Club was and is sensitive about these people (betting syndicates) being the big customers that they are. I saw these people as professional gamblers and not a problem at all to the integrity of racing."

Indeed, the syndicates relied on Schreck, and his fellow stewards to keep racing clean. Their profits, after all, were based on statistics for corrupt-free racing.

Woods turned an early passion for playing bridge and a fascination for mathematics into lifestyle at blackjack tables in casinos.

He cut his punting teeth on horse racing when he went to New Zealand in the early 1980s but turned his attention from there to the greater betting pools of punting-mad Hong Kong.

Woods teamed up with Benter in Hong Kong in the mid 1980s and together they formed the first betting syndicate whose success depended not on insider tips but on what the computer would spit out after being fed a range of information on the horse, current form, race times, sectional splits, weather, state of the track and jockey form.

Barney Curley: Pro Gambler

Who is Barney Curley? Why is he so feared by bookmakers and one of the most is celebrated and respected punters in his field? The reason Barney Curley has been the annoyance of bookmakers and one of the most renowned punters of modern times can be traced back to a night at a Belfast race track over forty years ago.

Barney's father, a grocer by trade, decided to take a gamble. He bet and bet big on one of his own dogs. During the race, the dog fell and broke his neck at the first bend. The sight of his dad walking back up the track, cradling the dead dog, has haunted Barney ever since. The consequences were devastating, yet would be the backbone of the driving force in Curley becoming in a league of his own where punters are concerned.


Curley's father, Curley senior, took Barney, the oldest of six siblings, out of school and sentenced him to 15 months of working double shifts at the plastics factory in Manchester. The two Curley's stayed in Manchester working until enough was saved to pay off all his debts from the gamble.

Curley's father taught him what honour and pride was the best way he knew how. "My father wouldn't come back to Ireland until everyone was paid" Barney recalled. This fact was a good lesson even though it really left him scarred. Each and every winning bet he makes is a bit more retribution for the ways that the bookies made him feel that night and suffer for the next 15 months. Barney has secured betting accounts with bookies all over the world. His most wicked pleasure came in the late 1980's. William Hill decided that he no longer wanted to conduct business with Curley. Over the previous two years Barney had taken them for £200,000.

Barney did not get his start in the business world as a punter. At the tender age of 24 he began by managing bands. Eventually, he added to his plate the ownership of a few pubs and betting shops. Later he decided it was not enough and packed up, closing shop, and moved south of the border to start his punting career into overdrive.

"I wanted to prove myself, " he says. "You have to be out of the ordinary to make money." "I fancied myself as a race reader and I thought I could crack the system. My first big win was about £80,000 and within 6 weeks it had all vanished. I was drinking. I soon discovered that drinking and gambling don't go together!"

The largest venture Curley orchestrated in Ireland was the ever famous 'Yellow Sam' coup. In this one endeavour he netted almost £300,000. The race was a race that took place at the Mount Hanover Amateur Riders Handicap Hurdle at Bellewstown on the 25th of June 1975. Bellewstown, a small country Track, just north of Dublin, at the time had just one phone line. Curley and his team got work backing the horse off-course in stakes up to £50, while the others involved made sure the phone was occupied. This was pre-modern technology days so it was impossible for the bookmakers to notify their representatives at the track that a coup was underway. Yellow Sam, who had shown little to no form in his nine previous runs, started the complete outsider at 20/1. At the end of the race, Yellow Sam won with a full 2 ½ lengths ahead of the rest

Like all the other professional punters, Barney Curley made a very comfortable living from racing. His house is a seven bedroom mansion near Newmarket, complete with an indoor swimming pool there's a Mercedes in the driveway. Its number plate simply puts it "I BET".

When asked what advice he would give to the average punter, his answer was not entirely positive. "It's very difficult to make racing pay in the bookmakers' shops with their computerised tracking systems and expert analysts. Always go to the course if you can. You will invariably get better prices by shopping around. The important thing is to control your emotions and don't chase your losses. There's always another day. I know my judgement of form is sound enough to pay off in the end." This statement helps separate Curley from a number of his peers. He knows that no matter how seasoned, there is no such thing as a sure bet and knows everyone can lose.

In conclusion, it is clear Curley is a man of skill. He was brought up to know the value of hard work and the importance of the value of ones word. Curley took a hard life and made it successful.

Professional Gamblers: Jack Ramsden

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Jack Ramsden quit his job as a stockbroker in 1980 and since then has had 13 consequtive winning years as a professional punter. His successful punting like so many other professional punters is based around speed figures and race times.

He recently stated I cannot stress too strongly the importance of race times. They bind my whole approach together. There are fewer good times recorded over jumps but everyone seems to know about those horses and they are too short to back.


Even cutting out the endless looking up of form books, I still spend two or three hours every day working out my bets. Jack continues, Im constantly on the look out for the 3/1 chance that starts at 8/1. There are 30 or 40 of them a year and they are there to be seen. At those prices you don't have to be right all the time! His premise is that while a good horse is capable of doing a bad time, no bad horse is capable of doing a good time.

He is unusual in that he has his own bookmaker, Colin Webster. There relationship is indeed unique, Colin pays Ramsden £5,000 a year for his advice and also has the job of getting his bets on with other bookmakers. Another unusual trait of Jack Ramsden is his liking for the multiple bet. His reasoning is that they are an extension of his policy to go for large prices and he reckons that on 4 occassions he has won over £200,000 on multiple bets.

The other piece of advice from Ramsden is regarding each-way bets. His advice is to ditch them. He states: I analysed my betting a couple of years ago and found that if I had doubled my win stakes instead of having each way bets, I would have been much better off. I think all punters would benefit by cutting out all each-way bets and sticking to singles.

Jack met his wife Lynda Ramsden when she worked at the Epsom yard of John Sutcliffe Snr, where Jack, one of Barry Hills's first owners, had horses. Ramsden was working in the City, but the City wasn't working for him. "I was a pretty useless stockbroker," he admitted. The Couple married in 1977 and then started training racehorses in the Isle of Man. I few years later moving over to England and North Yorkshire where they are still based to train.

Pro Gambler Series: Clive Holt

Clive Holt is a legendary punter. He talks so much sense that his word should be written in gold. He goes racing at least four times a week and prefers midweek to a Saturday. Clive bets on the racecourse only, not in the shops. Like many of the successful punters, William Hill closed Holts account in 1978. Coral soon followed suit closing his account as well. He admits it is difficult these days for him to place a bet. Clive Holt has come a long way since the day in the past when a friend of his told him The Holt was running at Ally Pally. His friend suggested that he back him. In the more than 30 years that have past since that first day, Clive has made a comfortable living. Holt attributes his interest in betting back to his father. His father

Pro Gambler Series: The Shadow

I found this old posting from 22nd May, 2008. It gives a fascinating insight about some of the UK's most influential gamblers: their character, speciality, wagers and trials and tribulations. Great racing days stick in the memory usually because great bets were struck and won or lost and that in turn starts me off recalling all the great gamblers I have known over the years. Some of the big pro gamblers I have only known casually but others have been close personal friends. The heaviest gambler I have met is probably J P McManus but I have only known him just enough to be on nodding terms and because so many of his huge punts have been very secret the buzz of

Pro Gambler Series: Alex Bird

Alex Bird was the original professional gambler who made a fortune after the war at Britain's racecourses. He learned his trade working for his father who was a bookmaker but soon decided that it would be more profitable to be on the other side. He had many different ways of beating the bookmaker, but probably his most famous was his success on betting on the result of photo finishes. Unlike today photo finishes would take about 5 minutes to develop so there was always an active betting market on the outcome. Bird very early on noticed that when horses crossed the line together an optical illusion meant that the horse on the far side invariably looked like he had won. He also discovered a simple technique which meant the

The Shadow: A Professional Gambler's Story

I found this old posting from 22nd May, 2008. It gives a fascinating insight about some of the UK's most influential gamblers: their character, speciality, wagers and trials and tribulations.

Great racing days stick in the memory usually because great bets were struck and won or lost and that in turn starts me off recalling all the great gamblers I have known over the years.


Some of the big pro gamblers I have only known casually but others have been close personal friends.

The heaviest gambler I have met is probably J P McManus but I have only known him just enough to be on nodding terms and because so many of his huge punts have been very secret the buzz of seeing him in action scaring the pants off the bookies was not as high profile as most of the others of his kind. Much more high profile was Alec Bird whose speciality was place only betting. His standard bet was two hundred grand place only on a red hot favourite. He would be quite happy with a ten percent return on his money.

The shrewdest professional gambler I have known is the legendary Phil Bull the founder of Timeform. So knowledgeable and so thorough was Phil’s grasp of every aspect of racing and gambling that unlike any other pro gambler I have ever met or heard about, he would be quite happy to chew on his cigar, sip his glass of champagne and have a bet on every race in the card. To Phil it was simply the challenge of solving a very complex puzzle, the amounts he won were of no consequence whatsoever to him.

Probably the nicest big punter on the racecourses today is good old Barney Curley. Barney is a lovely man, frail and showing his age these days but he is approachable and friendly as always. He has a trainer’s licence these days of course and he still put the fear of the Almighty through the betting ring when one of his runners looks to be a Barney Curley special.

The maddest, wildest and most reckless gambler I have ever known is my friend and once East End gangster known far and wide as “H”. Those who have been around the East End as long as I have will know just who I mean. H is two years younger than I am and these days he is flat broke living in a housing association studio flat in Loughton, passing the time while he waits for a liver transplant looking after the gardens of the flats he lives in. I know personally and for certain that he lost millions on the horses and dogs.

I myself got down fifty grand in cash for him rushing round the betting shops of the East End getting a grand here and two grand there on a hoss called Admiral’s Cup. I got the last two grand down in a shop in Canning Town just in time to see it get beat a short head. He never turned a hair.

The story about H I have told before is when he and his wife and me and my wife were invited to Ladies Day at Ascot many years ago.

I looked respectable in a morning suit and a topper and our wives looked gorgeous but H turned up in a morning suit and topper but wearing his lucky black bootlace tie with its solid gold steer head fastener. The Jobsworths on the entrance to the Royal Enclosure copped the nark to H’s tie and would not let him in. H went berserk and stormed off to Tattersalls where he proceeded to try to wipe out every bookie with massive stupid bets.

He must have been nearly half a million quid down by the last race when he persuaded one of the big chain bookies to let him lay a bet of two hundred and fifty grand on a hoss called Kris at even money. This time his hoss won by the shortest of short heads and a wait of about five minutes while they magnified the photo finish. Once again he never tuned a hair. Not the slightest sign of emotion. Now he cuts grass and prunes rose bushes for old ladies for a cup of tea and a biscuit.