Mad Marty’s Wildcard - By Mad Marty Wilson

Spotting an Advantage
In May of 1986 we had a terrible month of incredibly heavy rain. It was an unbelievably miserable time for most people, but certainly not for me.
You see, as a young man I could spot a mouse moving from half a mile away and, on this occasion, I spotted an advantage.
I could see the ground conditions at Newmarket were far worse than heavy. They were what I would call sloppy and I knew that would give the horses with low numbered draws a big advantage in the sprint races.
So when I permed the horses drawn one to five, having extra on the horses drawn one to three, I wasn’t surprised when they crossed the line one, two, and three, in that order.
But what I was surprised about was how much the tricast paid. For a stake of just £1 it paid £5,000.
The winning horse was called Major Jacko and it won at 50-1, with the second coming in at 16-1 and the third 10-1. I had a £4 straight tricast with Ladbrokes, who also paid a 10 percent bonus on all tricasts, giving me a tasty pick-up of £22,000.
But I also had a £1 tricast with an independent firm which paid me £5,000 and, not wanting to cause any problems for him, I popped round to tell the guy who owned the shop that he could leave it for a few weeks before paying me.
To my amazement he told me to pop into the Victory Working Men’s Club, which used the same car park, and said he would come in to pay me straight away. But that wasn’t what happened at all…
Instead of him giving me the £5,000, he gave me the keys to the betting shop. He said he was done with the shop and the only way I could get my money was to take over his business. The following day he was working for me for £15 per day and settling the bets.
I had to go to court to apply for on-course and off-courses betting licenses and, funnily enough, one of the people I went in front of was Jack Taylor, who refereed the 1974 World Cup final. I already knew Jack from Monmore dog track and my license was passed immediately.
But the story I want to tell you about even more was something that happened to me the following year.
It was the beginning of July 1987 when a complete stranger, who I later discovered had the nickname of Jellybaby, strolled into my betting shop at midday.
I had absolutely no idea who he was, but his nickname was going to live with me forever. What he was about to ask me was eventually going to win me enough money to buy my second house!
Jellybaby was an infamous pool player who hustled people around the West Midlands and the question he asked was what price could he have on somebody getting a hole-in-one at the British Open Golf Championship.
I had absolutely no idea what price it could be. I asked him what price he was looking for and he replied 100-1. I told Jellybaby I couldn’t possibly give him 100-1 but, foolishly, I eventually laid him 33-1.
He produced 50 pence pieces, £1 notes, and bags of change, then passed me a total of £20 over the counter. I never gave this bet another thought, but could have fallen through the floor when he strolled back into my shop the following week.
He was holding his betting slip and a copy of the Sporting Life, which proved that on the second day, on the seventh hole, a hole-in-one was indeed recorded. The player’s name eludes me now, but it stayed with me for a few weeks I can tell you.
This lesson lived with me for just short of 12 months when, the following year, I set off on my travels 10 days before the 1988 Open Championship started.
I located every independent bookmaker in Newport, Whitchurch, Chester, Flint, Prestatyn, Rhyl, Frith, Abergele, and Conway. My journey ended in a market town called Pontypridd.
I had devised a story where I explained to the bookmaker that I had got drunk and laid a stranger 100-1 that someone would get a hole-in-one. I used this story on all the independent bookmakers and they gave me various odds from 12-1 to 80-1, supposedly to cut my losses if the bet I had laid came in.
But I must tell you about one shop in Chester. It was an Atkinson shop. I told my story to the girl and she rang head office and quoted me 12-1, so I put £80 on.
As I laid the bet a friend of mine, Duncan Landby, rang me with a horse. The horse was 5-1 so I then followed up with a £50 double on the horse and the hole-in-one. The horse won, throwing another £300 on the hole-in-one.
The good news for me was an amateur from Sheffield who made the cut and partnered big American Craig “The Walrus” Stadler, got a hole-in-one on the final day. There was a picture of him in the Sporting Life with the golf ball in his mouth.
As I left the Atkinson shop on my first visit, the girl behind the counter, in a very bitter manner, had said to me, “That will teach you to keep your big mouth shut when you have had a drink.”
Understandably, I took offence to this and it was one of the first shops I called in to collect my winnings. I asked the guy behind the counter where the girl was and he told me she had been suspended. He said, “Apparently, she took some golf bet off a bloke and never rang head office back to clarify the stake.”
In total I won £80,000. Jellybaby might have had my £660 for 12 months, but I wouldn’t have been able to buy my second house if he hadn’t walked into my shop.
So if you are out there Jellybaby, and the nasty lady at the Atkinson shop, I’ll raise a toast to you both! ♠

Mad Marty Wilson is a professional gambler and poker consultant for Matchroom Sport.