Horse racing on a Sunday has been a fact of life in Britain since 1992, but Sunday, September 16, 2018 was still a red-letter day for one anonymous Scottish punter. The unnamed father-of-five, who was celebrating his birthday, cast his net far and wide, staking just £5.35 – in the form of four-folds, six-folds, seven-folds and an eight-fold, at a thrifty £0.05 apiece – on eight selections at Bath, Ffos Las and the Curragh throughout the afternoon and early evening. He placed his bet, at starting price, at his local William Hill betting shop in Leith, Edinburgh.
Of course, the nature of his bet meant that at least 50% of his selections must win to guarantee a return, but his confidence was not misplaced. The bulk of his selections were at Ffos Las, where Time Stands Still (8/1) got the ball rolling with a comprehensive, 3-length victory in the 7½-furlong handicap, despite 3lb overweight. The temperamental filly was subsequently followed into the winners’ enclosure at the West Wales track by Syndicate (11/1), Alra Vita (9/4), Homing Star (10/1) and Ascot Day (14/1); the latter, which was his final selection of the day, barely gave him an anxious moment, staying on well under Martin Harley to win by 3 lengths.
In between times, the fortunate Scot also latched on to Havana Grey (15/8) and Barbill (6/1) at the Curragh, plus My Boy Sepoy (5/2) at Bath, for a total return of £682,282.14. The eight-fold bet, alone, netted £203,969.39 and the total return represented a mind-boggling Return on Investment (ROI) of 12,752,837%. Rupert Adams, International PR Manager at William Hill, said, ‘We believe it is the biggest accumulator payout in Scotland.’ In Britain, as whole, the permed accumulator ranked third and was the biggest since Frankie Dettori went through the card at Ascot in September, 1996.
Michael ‘Eddie’ Edwards, otherwise known as ‘Eddie The Eagle’, was the subject of 2016 sports comedy-drama film of the same name, starring Taron Egerton in the title role. Although largely fictitious, the film was loosely based on Edwards’ life story.
Born into a working-class family in Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, Edwards was initially a downhill skier but, having narrowly missed selection for the 1984 Winter Olympics in Sarajevo in that capacity, he later turned to ski jumping as a less expensive and less competitive – at least, as far as Britain was concerned – option.
In the summer of 1986, at the age of twenty-two, Edwards took time off from his career as a plasterer to visit the Lake Placid Olympic Ski Jumping Complex in New York, where he concluded that ski jumping looked ‘alright’. He jumped in his first European Cup event at St. Moritz, Switzerland on Boxing Day, 1986 and, the following year, jumped in the Four Hills Tournament at Oberstdorf, West Germany.
Following his return from torn knee ligaments, sustained in the latter event, the British Ski Federation decreed that if he could jump 70 metres in a World Cup event he would be allowed to represent Great Britain in the Winter Olympics in Calgary the following year. In December, 1987, Edwards jumped 69.5 metres and was famously in the mental hospital in Finland – for purely economic reasons – when he was informed that he had been picked for the British Olympic team.
Indeed, Edwards, who was entirely self-funded, became the first British Olympic ski jumper for six decades. He finished stone cold last, by some margin, in both the 70-metre and 90-metre events, but his fearless acts of derring-do earned him the nickname ‘Eddie The Eagle’ and endeared him to a global audience. Indeed, in his closing address, Frank King, CEO of the Olympic Organising Committee, said to competitors, ‘Some of you have even soared like an eagle.’
Australian former professional snooker Quinten Hann had what is politely described as a ‘chequered’ career, which finally came to an igmonimious end, at the age of 28, in February, 2006. The previous year, Hann had agreed, with undercover journalists from ‘The Sun’ newspaper, to lose a match at the forthcoming China Open for £50,000. The agreement, alone, was sufficient for Hann to be charged with match-fixing, but three days before a disciplinary hearing he effectively resigned as a professional. At the hearing, which he did not attend, he was found guilty, banned for eight years by the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association (WPBSA) and ordered to pay £10,000 in costs.
Hann played in the World Snooker Championships at The Crucible Theatre, Sheffield on six occasions, but never progressed beyond round two and is probably best remembered for his first round match against Andy Hicks in 2004, which ended acrimoniously. The unseeded Hicks won 10-4 but, having been goaded by Hann in the middle of the match, retorted with ‘That’s you out of the top 16’ as the pair shook hands. Hann responded by telling Hicks, ‘You’re short and bald and you always will be’, and offered to fight him outside. Ultimately, referee Lawrie Annadale stood between the two players to prevent them coming to blows.
The following June, taking advantage of the ‘white collar’ boxing phenomenon, Hann satisfied his desire to fight a fellow snooker professional when facing off against Mark King in a six-minute charity boxing match at York Hall. Both men obtained amateur boxing licences and trained seriously, but the bout, dubbed ‘Pot Whack’, soon descended into an all-out brawl, with Hann winning on points.
The Games of the III Olympiad were an oddity to start with. Originally awarded to Chicago, Illinois by the International Olympic Committee, they were transferred to St. Louis, Missouri, where they became part of the World’s Fair, known as the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, celebrating the centenary of the United States’ acquisition of the Louisiana Territory from France.
The marathon, though, was one of the most bizarre events of its kind in Olympic history. In the days before the marathon distance was standardised at 26 miles and 385 yards, the race was run over just shy of 25 miles, on a hilly, dusty, perilously-maintained course, deliberately devoid of access to fresh water after 12 miles and subject to temperatures of 90ºF or more. Unsurprisingly, more than half of the 32 starters failed to complete the course.
Furthermore, the original ‘winner’, American Fred Lorz was in the process of receiving the gold medal from Alice Roosevelt, daughter of US President when it was discovered that he had not run the full distance and, in fact, far from it. After nine miles, suffering from cramps, he had hitched a lift in a passing vehicle, from which he did not alight until beyond the twenty-mile mark. Once his subtefuge was revealed, Lorz claimed he had finished the race as a ‘joke’ and was summarily disqualified in favour of compatriot Thomas Hicks.
However, Hicks was hardly the epitome of athletic excellence, relying om strychnine, egg whites and brandy, administered by a pair of accomplices, to bolster his performace over the closing miles. Pale, exhausted and hallucinatory, he got his second wind on learning that Lorz had been disqualified but, even so, could barely put one foot in front of the other at the finish and had to be all but carried over the line by his collaborators.
