There's only one rule of the Split Yankee

I can talk about it now. Not wanting to jinx my golden run, I had avoided recording my feats in any sort of formal medium.

It all started on Grand National Day. Like so many other ever-so casual punters, I bet on horses on an approximately annual basis. I spent a little while reading the form guides, and decided that on another lovely April day (have you noticed that April has recently taken over from September as having the best weather of the year? At least September has the courtesy to be a little embarrassed by itself, appearing, as it does, as an apology for the "summer" that preceded it; April leads you on, thinking that the summer to follow is set to be gorgeous) a horse that fared well in 2008 (ie. won) was going to do well again in 2009. Julie closed her eyes and picked a couple of horses for her £1 each way stakes, and I logged on and placed our bets.

Returning from my final very long run before the marathon I lay in great pain on the living room floor watching the drama unfold. It was a great race. With the last fence cleared any one of about 7 horses could have won. Round the elbow it was down to my hope and one other, but then it inexplicably got outsprinted by the 100-1 shot. I was satisfied, however, as my each way bet at 18-1 returned a tidy profit.

Incidentally, in a pub a week later, I spoke to a guy adamant that the National had been a fix. The betting patterns were unusual: A couple of horses came in very short at the end and then did absolutely nothing in the race. There were a number of 100-1 shots and it was surprising just how easily that winner sprinted away. Apparently a number of smaller book-makers would have gone bust without a profitable National, and they certainly got that.

Anyway, back to my winnings. I returned my original stake and pocketed the cash that Julie gave me for her bets, giving me a profit of £12. This left another £12 in my account. I lost half of this almost immediately on the first Chelsea-Liverpool Champions League Quarter Final, but over the next month continually reinvested the other £6 on draws in Quarter and Semi-Finals. It was, if I'm honest, not a great money spinner. For the first few weeks I returned a profit of about a pound a week, but slowly my stake got bigger and so did that wad of cash in my betfred account. I kept on getting lucky with late goals. Porto's equaliser at Old Trafford was one, but best of all was Barcelona's equaliser in the semi-final against Chelsea. I was watching on Ceefax, waiting for an L to turn into FT to signal the end to the run. Then it came in: Iniesta 90 + 3. Joy of joys!

By mid-May I was sitting on £15.

I repeat: £15. That was, I'm sure you'll agree, a huge return in a month. I calculated that with that 250% return I'd be a millionaire by late summer next year. On discussion with Julie, however, we agreed that it'd probably be best that I didn't invest half a million pounds on draws in the Australian football.

Then I struck gold. My normal bet was a Yankee, which is 11 bets on 4 games. You select a result in each and then stand to win if any two or more results come in. It's 11 bets to cover each combination of doubles, treble and quadruple. On Friday evening of the Play-Off semi-final weekend the first two games were drawn. This meant I'd already won something with 2 games to go. I pondered this. I could leave to chance and the least I'd win would be about £16. Or I could hedge my bets on the other possible results. Two hours, and much Excel-ing later I had created my Hedge Fund spreadsheet, which calculated, to the penny, how much to bet on the 4 possible results that didn't involve a draw. This guaranteed a return of £92, less my hedge stake of about £45, which is the minimum return one more draw would give. I'm calling this strategy a Split Yankee.

Sure enough, neither game was drawn and I had turned a £1 profit into something approaching £50. I took back my hedge stake, plus a £15 dividend, and plotted my future. I pictured a career as a Professional Gambler. A vigilante against corporate bookmakers. With Excel as my weapon, I'd fight for the little guy; turning £10 into £120 so little Billy could have a bike for Christmas.

The bubble burst. And thank God for that. I got caught up in the moment. Thinking I knew something about football, I left the safety of betting on draws in Cup games. Certain United would win the title in style against an Arsenal side who wanted to go on holiday, I placed £10 on a home win at Old Trafford, only to see the game fizzle out to a draw. A draw? Oh, the irony.

The final £12 was bet on the 3 Play-Off Finals. The irony compounded: Two were settled by late winners in normal time. I'd lost interest by the time Burnley reached the Premiership.

And so, the run was over. But it was not unproductive. I had taken a tidy profit of £27, devised a great little spreadsheet to calculate betting returns, and bored people endless with tales of my gambling glory. Perhaps that was the downfall of the run; the jinx wasn't writing it down, it was talking about it.

So, is this first rule of the Split Yankee? No one talks about the Split Yankee.