Editorial: The life of a big time punter

It's the day that stops two nations, or so they say.

Hawke's Bay Today had a modest soiree at the Hastings RSA to celebrate the Melbourne Cup but some of us (me among them) failed to get to the starter's gate on time.

But just because I could not make the office's official cup function, didn't mean I was going to miss the race.

I found a TV in the nick of time and had my dollars down.

Well, "dollars down" is stretching things a bit as not only did I miss the office function, I also never got to the tote on time.

So I made a figurative bet, a make-believe fiver on Tullamore to take the race.

No dollar-each-way for me when it came to the cup - my non-existent fiver was all on Tullamore crossing the line first.

What a race it was. One of the great Melbourne Cup runs and how was that photo finish! I heard it described as not so much a win by a nose but a win by a pixel.

Like much of the rest of New Zealand and Australia, I leapt to me feet to cheer the frontrunners across the line, elbowing my way to the front of the crowd. (Figurative crowd, actually, as I was the only one watching this particular television.)

Still, I managed a small roar of my own as Dunaden and Red Cadeaux charged across the line. It was heart-stopping stuff. I was so caught up in the finish that I clean forgot about the fiver I had on Tullamore. Gai Waterhouse's horse had let me down.

That had me downcast for a moment or two. I mean, what a waste of money! I'd just blown enough cash to buy two make believe ice blocks.

But that's life for we big-time punters. You just have to take the losses on the chin.

So I looked around the room, noted that everyone else had already left, ripped up my worthless fake bet and headed for home.

There's always 2012.