Who I am
Most dog races are won or lost before the first bend. I just watch who gets there first.— Tommy, forty years at the rail
Forty years I've stood by the first bend. Racing manager at three London tracks, and I watched every one of them close. Grading the dogs, drawing the traps, arguing with trainers over a stopwatch at eleven o'clock at night.
Grading teaches you the lot. You put six dogs in a race so it's fair on paper, then you watch it go wrong at the bend, every night, for years. Who breaks sharp. Who dives for the rail. Who runs wide and takes two with him.
Now I do the other side of it. Two cards a day, afternoon and evening, and you get the dogs I'd back myself. Two a session at most. Win only — a dog race is over in thirty seconds, and I'm not paying for places.
What I won't touch: crowded races with three quick dogs drawn side by side, dogs I've got no times for, and anything I can't explain in three lines. If nothing's right, you get nothing — and I tell you why.