by Frank Cotolo

Part 1 ishere.

I was wandering around the Del Mar clubhouse between races during a thoroughbred program. The next race looked like a good one for me to drop a win bet, so I kept my eyes on the tote board while pacing the trackside area. I noticed broadcasting celebrity Larry King sitting on a small lawn chair. I approached him.

“Mr. King, excuse me,” I said.

“Yeah, what?”

“We met on your CNN show when you interviewed Wolfman Jack. Remember? It was earlier this year.”

“Oh, sure. Wolfman. He’s quite a fella. That was fun. He’s looking good these days. So, who do you like in this race?”

I said, “Right now I’m interested in the 2 horse.”

“What? Right now? What’s that mean? I don’t see anyone beating the 6. He’s a strong and deserving favorite.”

“But I don’t think he’s worthy of a 1-2 bet.”

“So, what do you do? You bet longshots? Like the 2 at 12-1?”

“I wish he’d be 12-1. But think he will come in around 6- or 7-1. I’ll bet him at 6- or 7-1.”

King folded his Racing Form and he stood facing the betting windows. He said, “Well good luck with that longshot. I’m getting on the favorite.”

“The 2 might beat the favorite at 6-1.”

“Good luck with however you bet,” he said and as he walked away, he added, “And say hello to the Wolf fella.”

He was not rude, but he made it obvious he was not interested in my betting opinions. I looked at the tote board and then I turned towards King and shouted, “Bet the 2, Mr. King. He’s almost 7-1.”

I didn’t see him as I walked to a betting window and wagered $20 to win on the 2. Then I found a monitor to watch the race. In late stretch the favorite led in a wire-to-wire attempt and was challenged by the second favorite deep down the stretch. But the 2 horse came thundering three wide and caught them both by a nose at the wire. At $6.70 to the dollar the 2 paid $15.40 to win.

I went to cash my winning ticket at the farthest window in the area. Mr. King could not see me but I could see him. He was standing still and looking to the left and right and in front and back of himself. I was willing to bet Larry King never read any works by Alan Watts.

The third Alan in my trio was Alan Watts. He had nothing to do with horse racing or gambling. He is called a “philosophical entertainer,” and is known for introducing Buddhist Zen philosophy to a Western audience. I was introduced to his work seven years after his death and it came at a perfect time.

I was working at breakneck speed as a writer with a supplementary job: serious pari-mutuel wagering. My bankroll was a solid five digits. Money went out and came in with a modicum of success (thanks to strict handicapping practices and a professional money-management system). With what little time in a day was left, I ate and slept and read and listened to Alan Watts.

In all the handicapping literature I read and the first-hand professional advice I was given there was not one author’s work addressing how to cope with the psychological beating pari-mutuel player experiences. Even successful professionals likened the job to flailing through a gauntlet.

“Even after a big win,” a professional horseplayer told me, “you’re left healing from the pains it took to get it. And losing leaves you clobbered all together.”

“In the end,” another pro player told me, “only a limited few make money and are winners.”

In his book, The Wisdom of Insecurity, Watts addressed the player’s emotional conundrum in general terms. He wrote: “There is a stage in man’s development when [fixed beliefs must] be left behind… We make bets [take risks] in the light of which we can make practical arrangements to the course of events.”

Watts convinced me to apply that simple Zen discipline to coping with the enormous stress of being a handicapper for pari-mutuel wagering. It began to work instantly. My encounter with Larry King was the perfect example. His typical horseplayer mentality was stained by fixed beliefs most likely acquired early in his betting education.

Most pari-mutuel bettors spend years or their entire betting career losing money without realizing the practice of “picking winners” (and not “playing winners”) is affected by their personal preferences fueled by fixed beliefs and not the mathematics of the moment. Preconceived notions become traps; they are steeped in misrepresentative truths handed down by losers.

In the next Among Ourselves column I will quote numerous handicappers from a study I conducted in the 1990s for American Turf Monthly. The participants present their fixed beliefs (methods) for handicapping, all of which support a need to be exposed to the third Alan.