5th June 2009 - Veitch Book - Brough Scott

When we received the first draft of this book the author was worried about being duffed up by his enemies whilst we were soon more concerned that he might get chinned by his friends. What would they make of a man who, after describing yet another six figure coup says - “It was not a bad day’s work for me and I write that prime piece of understatement with a grin on my face“?

If you think that sounds a touch on the self-serving side, just imagine what impression Kevin Darley got of the slim and youthful figure in the paddock before a Newcastle seller in July 1999. Veitch, with a mobile to each year, strode up to the many times “Cock of the North” and issued the sort of insistent, “get the rail and keep the rail” instructions you would give a gormless claimer before loading him up to put the punters away. But of course the horse won. And naturally our hero has a not entirely modest pay off – “total winnings of just over £30,000 were disappointing.”

Most autobiographies try to shuffle the facts to place the author in the most flattering of light. This one is directly and refreshingly different. Even after the best of Jonathan Powell and Steve Dennis’ editing, Patrick Veitch makes few excursions into self doubt, let alone wheedling charm. Instead, in crisp and unforgiving detail, he log how he set about to win himself a fortune in the 8 years following many traumatic months under cover from a deadly serious death threat. Sometimes he is so smart that you almost don’t want to believe him. But it’s all here – all £10,049,983.03 of it.

That’s right - £10,049,983.03. What’s with the 3p? The answer is that if you are Patrick Veitch you don’t do “inexact”. At 15 you have already refused to offer anything other than Cambridge on your five choice University form. At 17, already accepted to read Maths at Trinity but too young to start, you use your driving instructor to partner your first tipping line. At 20 you are grossing over £10,000 a month which renders actually taking your degree in a very real sense “academic.”

Once you realise what Veitch is at, you become caught in the sort of snake-held fascination which must have afflicted bookmakers when they realised they were being strung in one of Patrick’s webs. Not Sunderlands of course – they happily agreed to open an account but closed it the moment the name was mentioned. The arrangement had been in place a full five seconds.

What strikes you is the energy, the discipline, the organization, and the sheer, cool, bravery of it all. The intensity of the research and the planning is daunting even to read. Hour upon hour of video study; hotel rooms set up as strictly regulated battle rooms; an extraordinary A4 size, Velcro covered clip board to which no less than 14 mobile phones are attached for use at the races when the “bet now” orders go out; and of course the ruthlessly detailed accounts of profits and loss.

Which brings us to the bravery. How would any of us have felt after two and a half months of 2005 when those accounts showed a loss of £198.535.94? Or, suicide save us, when they dipped to £412,006.84 by the end of May? Veitch didn’t falter. He kept going until he had one of what he calls his midsummer “thunderstorms”. In ten weeks he turned things round to the tune of – wait for it -£1.2212.309.39. None of it happened by chance. “I know beyond doubt,” he explains, “that a badly needed return to form can only be achieved by a combination of steely determination and hard work.”

There are no short cuts and, as a corrective to those who always stress betting’s seamy side, absolutely no suggestions of crookedness. Veitch may be obsessively secretive but he is not into cheating. Indeed he is such a stickler for correct behaviour that the editors had to work hard to tone down some of his more forceful comments on those in the game with more “bendable” morality.

In that sense this is an inspiring book. The bookies can be beaten without criminality. Just read about his £235.133.71 winnings on Exponential or, perhaps best of all, his personal best £272,447.99 on Silver Touch at York in September 2006 which included his father and two friends taking £56,000 in cash out of the ring and staggering out of the Knavesmire with pockets so stuffed with “readies” that “they looked like Michelin Men.”

But you will still want to strangle him. I mean how can one abide someone who is so confident that Love Divine will in the 2000 Oaks that he puts the hymn on his ansafone so that when all the agents report in the first words are from a choir of boy sopranos singing “Love di-i-vine, all loves excelling.” Or, most infuriating of all, here is a man who in November 2002 sets his alarm at 4.09 am to listen Media Puzzle landing him exactly £100,000 in the Melbourne Cup at 4-10 am and then, yes really, then goes back to sleep five minutes later.

“I can imagine many punters being critical,” says the man who we must surely love to hate. “I can hear them say,why not enjoy the moment? But waking up next morning and remembering you won £100,000 during the night – that’s enjoying the moment.” For less successful punters it is also pretty close to a capital offence.