ANOTHER Melbourne Cup over and another $50 down the drain.
I am no punter and Melbourne Cup is pretty much the only time I gamble so I figure I may as well make it worth my while.
I’ve never understood people who put down $1 or $2 for a win. In retrospect, losing $1 or $2 doesn’t hurt as much as parting with a hard-earned $50.
But when you win, it feels oh so good.
I actually have a strategy of picking the Melbourne Cup winner — and it goes like this.
On Melbourne Cup Eve, I try to picture which horse’s name would make the most clever headline on the front page of the Melbourne newspapers the following day.
Then, I cut up the names of the horses from the sweep and place them under my pillow, hoping the winner will somehow infiltrate my dreams.
If that doesn’t work, I reach under my pillow and the first name I choose is my second choice.
You may think I’m crazy but there is a method to my madness. And it seems to work about every six years, so I’m due for a win next year. But that doesn’t stop me being hopeful. Every. Single. Year.
Some might say I get a little over the top during the race. I prefer to call it passionate. Plus I love to win if you didn’t know that already.
Ten minutes before the race that stops a nation, the nerves start to kick in. My heart starts to race and I can’t stop talking. It’s a distraction technique.
The nausea begins when I see the horses being placed in their barrier.
Beads of sweat start accumulating on my forehead. I feel like it’s me about to run the race of my life.
And then they’re off and I let out a squeal of relief.
The last stretch is the most important, which means I have no choice but to whip my horsey home. It’s a superstition I have and I’m sticking to it.
Unfortunately, whoever is standing next to me may inadvertently receive a slap on the leg or buttocks whether they like it or not.
If I win, I look like someone who has just taken out the entire prize pool on The Price is Right.
And if I lose? Well, all I can say is get out of my way.