A little known fact is that the Asians are huge gamblers. Macau, situated just of the southern coast of China, makes more money than Las Vegas. Horse racing is big business in various Asian countries. The Hong Kong Jockey Club which is situated between high rise buildings and the congested streets on Hong Kong Island, seems almost out of place, but attracts thousands. The betting shops in Wanchai, Kowloon, and other areas of Hong Kong overflow with patrons. The Singapore Turf Club, situated on the outskirts of Singapore Island, stages regular meetings attracting large crowds willing to part with their money on races that occur every twenty minutes.

My wife, Susan and I were staying in Singapore for a lengthy work commitment, so to participate in some of the local culture; we decided to take a trip to the Singapore Turf Club. It was a 40 minute train ride from our hotel located close to the hustle and bustle of Orchard Road, changing once along the way. The trains are spotlessly clean, almost always on time, and very safe. You just have to be wary of the rules, like no smoking, eating or drinking. Hence, the term “Singapore is a Fine Place”.

We arrived in time for the start of the third race, although too late to make a bet, and purchased a copy of Punter’s Way, which provided details of the length and price money of each race, the participants and the colors the jockeys would be wearing. Even though we arrived late, we still had many opportunities to lose money throughout the afternoon by betting on at least 6 races if we stayed long enough. We watched from inside the clubhouse as the teeming rain made the ground soft, therefore making it a disadvantage for the heavier horses or medium size horses with heavy jockeys. As with practically all public places in Singapore, the building was immaculately clean and well maintained. We did not notice any foreigners like ourselves, so it was easy to assume that horse racing was not a tourist attraction in Singapore. Maybe it was because it wasn’t the easiest place to get to from most of the tourist hotels were.

As I studied the previous form of each horse and their weight to make an educated bet, Susan was looking for pretty colors and nice names. Race 3 was underway, and crowd noise reached a crescendo as the horses approached the finish line. The commentator on the public address system added some color to the atmosphere, by his dramatic and sometimes humorous commentary. Not long after all the horses from race 3 crossed the finish line, race 4 contestants were parading around the paddock. The betting had started and the pre-race odds fluctuated as the more experienced punters put their money on the horses that looked in the best shape. After all, no one would put money on a horse that was limping or huffing and puffing.

The minimum bet was 5 Singapore dollars (just over $3 US), so being newcomers to the sport, it was the amount Susan and I spent. We lost of course, and I think our horses were mentioned once by the commentator. However, we were now in the mood for some big time gambling, so rather than just bet on a horse to win, we decided to bet additional money on a place. This meant that if our horse did not win, we would at least get a third of the odds if it came in second or third. The price of the bet doubled to $10 for the increased chance of winning something – that is for a win and an each-way bet

The next race provided the same outcome. Between us, we had now spent $30 without any hint of success.

It was time for a break, so I walked around looking for food and drink. Surprisingly, there wasn’t much on offer. I did find a Tiger beer (Singapore’s own brew), but most of the food was either containers of noodles or some odd shaped, unidentifiable, fried appetizers. It was to be a liquid lunch.

Sipping the Tiger gave me a new inspirational approach to selecting horses. Previously I had backed horses that seemed to fit the conditions of the course, were lightweight, with a reasonable track record of success. That logic had not worked so far. My new theory was that sooner or later an outsider would win a race or at least be placed in the top three.

My $5 SGD bet went on a horse called Mushroom to be placed. The commentator had very little to say about him while in the paddock, and the odds increased before race time as if he was going to run the race on three legs. He became an outsider.

By the time all the horses were bundled together at the starting gate, he was at 40-1. The race was a mile and a half and up until they turned into the final stretch he wasn’t even mentioned. Four furlongs out, as if he had just had a steroid shot, Mushroom appeared from the back and sped past every other horse like a raped ape. It passed the finish line in first place by a nose. I shouted “Yeah!” and jumped out of my seat. The clubhouse went silent, and the commentator made an announced that Mushroom would not be a popular winner. I absorbed some smirks, and tried to figure out why he wasn’t too favored. Maybe it was his name or that the jockey had a shaded past. If I had backed Mushroom to win, I would have collected about $200, but as I backed him for a place I settled for my $67 winnings and focused on the next race.

I liked my theory of backing loser horses, so my next $5 went on Starbeel to win outright, at odds of 20-1. It was the same result, same reaction, and same cashier, who by this time thought that I had inside information about horses, as she handed over $100 to me.

We celebrated with another Tiger beer, but with the lack of recognizable and tempting food in the clubhouse to address our hunger, we left soon after to catch the next train back to the congestion of Orchard Road.