Pick winners. Punt big. Celebrate hard. Shout lots of drinks when you win, so everyone knows you’re the bomb!
That’s the dream. The reality can be a nightmare when you’re half a pay packet lighter. How could you could be so bad at punting?
Melbourne during Cup Week is awesome. I’ve made it to Flemington dozens of times, but rarely bet.
I usually leave the track light-walleted by only a few drinks – okay, maybe a few more than that – and a buzz from the atmosphere. The people watching is the real highlight.
I used to have a philosophical issue with gambling. You’re designed to lose. It’s not like the stock market, or property, which are, generally, long-term winners.
Stocks and property are the tortoise in the wealth creation game, in the race against the punting hare. In that race, I’d prefer the sure-fire winner.
But I’ve softened. Had to. Last year I opened a betting account.
You’d barely call what I do “betting”. Usually on two-horse races (such as football), occasionally a horse. Rarely more than $5-10 at a time, often not for months. Why at all? It’s been a bit of fun with some mates and has made interesting some otherwise dull games of football. But I understand that I am, virtually, guaranteed to lose.
If you don’t have money to lose, don’t bet. Perhaps go in a small sweep. If you’re a once-a-year punter, have a limit and stop there.
If you take the money out of the equation, Cup Day is still a buzz all around this nation.