On a bright sunny day in a south Florida restaurant, Palomino Park, I was so engaged in studying the racing form, a daily publication that shows the past performances of the horses running on that particular day, that I was oblivious to everything around me. Maybe because I was a Certified Public Accountant, I thoroughly enjoyed getting engrossed in the individual horse statistics for each particular race. I know now that my interest was an obsession, an addiction. Everyone has regrets about one thing or another: my regret was how much of my life I wasted on this non-productive activity.
On this particular Sunday, while I was completely fixated in studying the racing form, a gentleman walked up to me and said: “I notice how much you spend on that racing form.”
Naturally, I was rudely awakened from my reverie. I responded somewhat dryly, a little more than irritated by the interruption: “Yeah, I love doing this.”
His comeback was brilliant, but unfortunately I took his comments as rather insulting if not demeaning: “Well, Did you ever stop and think that if you studied to be a lawyer and used the same brain you’re using now to study that racing form you might be a great lawyer.”
The reader should understand that a New Yorker does not take comments like these lying down. Several retorts came to mind, the least of them being to tell him to mind his own blankety-blank business. But being in the banking business, something like tact and diplomacy must have rubbed off on me, and I merely said: “Thank you very much.” And he walked away. For some reason, I never forgot his saying that to me. He was right. When I was filling out that racing form, I would lose all sense of time. I didn’t think about anything except what was on that racing form as I would study each race’s statistics, trying to beat the odds, peering into an imaginary crystal ball, and making the score of a lifetime people would talk about for decades.
On another particular day, just to show you what I mean, I was so engrossed in studying the statistics of this particular race that I was completely shocked and dumbfounded when suddenly I heard “They’re off!” I mean, I didn’t hear the last call to place bets. I didn’t even hear the bugle call as the horses lined up at the starting gate. Before I could react, the horses were released from the starting gate and running down the track. If you can, imagine me still sitting down with the racing form, studying the numbers, and deciding on which horse I wanted to place my bet. In other words, I missed the race! And this is not the only time that this happened to me.
My whole intention here is to show you the insanity of the gambler when it comes to things like just studying the racing form. (Believe me, the insanity gets even worse, as the you will discover in this book.) The mere thought that if I studied the racing form thoroughly, I could be a winner. It took a while for this truism to sink in: not knowing, not thinking that the horses can’t read the racing form. They don’t know who is supposed to win. And so, I would say that in all the years I followed the races from 1972 to 1985, when I stopped gambling, I was never a winner at the race track. Although I did statistics inside out for each race, I still could not pick a winner.
I hope that as you read my book, you’ll realize the insanity of this gambler. I’m also a recovering alcoholic. When I stopped drinking, I took up gambling. I just have an addictive personality, whether it is with alcohol, gambling, work, and/or sex. With the grace of God, I have arrested both my addictions to alcohol and gambling. My health finally put a stop to my addiction to work so I now can enjoy my remaining years in traveling and helping people. The sex? Well, age has almost—note, almost—cured that one, too.
If you know anyone who might have a problem with gambling, please show them my book. Maybe they identify the early stages of the addiction to gambling and stop before they go to the same lengths I went to and beyond for others.
Edward T. Plunkett