The Ox's amazing fall from grace

[OnSong]

Not to try and dampen the mood of punters on here, but this snippet from David Schwarz's book really is amazing.

Starts:

BY EARLY 2001, I'd completely lost my way.

Every cent I earned was being lost on the punt and I was becoming involved with shadier and shadier characters.

This was drawn to the public's attention in January when I provided a glowing character reference in the Melbourne Magistrates Court for Darren Harland, a bloke with close connections to a number of underworld criminals.

At the time, I viewed people like him as my friends. In fact, I enjoyed hanging around the dark side of society. I felt like a character in a mafia movie. I had the connections, I felt cool.

Despite needing to play well because I had just a one-year contract with Melbourne, I treated my football commitments with contempt, training at half-pace through the pre-season, which meant I was in terrible shape.

My deep malaise, which probably had a lot to do with our Grand Final debacle in 2000, concerned both the coaches and my teammates.

Given I was the vice-captain, I was meant to be leading the way. But I was only turning up to the footy club to ensure the punting money kept flowing, and was setting a terrible example to the younger blokes.

Gambling consumed me.

During training sessions I would be thinking about how I owed money to a number of bookmakers, who were allowing me to bet on credit.

I would lead for the ball while conjuring plans in my head, ludicrous for the most part, to right the sinking ship that was my life. The plans usually involved stepping up my punting to win back my losses.

My behaviour away from the footy club was increasingly erratic.

When I had a big win on the punt, I would splurge on toys for my dodgy acquaintances.

Rather than try to pay off some of my exploding debts, I did crazy things like buy a jet-ski for myself and another one for a mate.

For no good reason, I was leasing three cars - a four-wheel-drive, a Holden Commodore and a BMW convertible. I was spending whole days and nights at the casino. I was out of control.

In late March, after some terrible displays in our practice games, and with our first home-and-away game only a week away, coach Neale Daniher pulled me aside for a heart-to-heart.

Neale was very disappointed with my attitude, and he had every right to be. He told me I was unfit to continue as Melbourne's vice-captain. I knew he was right.

And so, on March 21, I stood before my teammates at a training session at the Whitten Oval and told them I was stepping down from my leadership position.

Although my punting continued throughout the footy season, the loss of the vice-captaincy lifted one burden from my shoulders, and from Round 1, when I booted four goals in a loss to the Tigers, I played with freedom and flair.

I knuckled down at training and produced another stellar effort against Geelong in Round 3, when I dominated at centre half-forward.

The only downside to my form revival was my ability to stir up controversy.

Following the game against the Cats, indigenous midfielder Justin Murphy accused me of racism because I'd called him a "coconut".

The AFL ordered us to undergo a mediation session, during which I apologised to Justin for having insulted him. Justin accepted the apology graciously and the matter went no further.

I was, however, made to stand before the entire Melbourne squad and spell out why racism was not to be tolerated.

The message I preached to my teammates was something I genuinely believed: there is no place for racism in society.

Thankfully, I let my football do the talking during the next three weeks. After defeating Fremantle in Round 6, we had a 4-2 win-loss record and looked set for another appearance in the finals.

Instead, Shane Woewodin began to struggle with taggers, Jeff Farmer lost form and we suffered injuries to key players. We lost six of our next seven matches and tumbled down the ladder.

Making matters worse, the club became embroiled in a series of off-field dramas, culminating in Joseph Gutnick stepping down as president.

Melbourne was in the middle of a financial meltdown that would see it lose $1.6 million (for) the year.

My own form remained good despite our run of losses, and I was the centre of attention in Round 11 when I played my 150th game against Collingwood at the MCG.

The cheer squad honoured me with a huge banner that read, "Pain is temporary. Pride lasts forever".

While I was not treating my family terribly well at this time - my sister recalls that I would hang up during her phone calls to talk to gambling mates and not ring her back for weeks - Mum, (sister) Rebecca and (niece) Maddison watched proudly from the stands as I ran out to take on the Magpies.

But after gaining an early handball, my day proved to be a massive anti-climax. I collided with Anthony Rocca in the first quarter and suffered a badly corked buttock. Watching from the sidelines was torture as Collingwood ran riot to win by 77 points.

WE won four of our last five games, but it was all too late. Eleven months after playing for the flag, we missed the finals.

I finished third behind Adem Yze and David Neitz in the best-and-fairest count, which made me confident I had at least one more year of footy in me.

The club was not so sure. Neale was especially disgruntled with my outbursts in the media and I think he was pretty keen to move me on.

When trade week came around, there was talk that I was being sent to Carlton, then Sydney showed some interest. Eventually, I accepted a one-year deal - and celebrated by taking my punting to another level.

It's fair to say that on September 8, 2001, my gambling career reached its nadir.

It was Craiglee Stakes day at Flemington and I went to the races with a group of Melbourne players - among them Cameron Bruce, Daniel Ward, Travis Johnstone and David Neitz - and armed with a stack of tips.

I was purchasing some of my information (at a cost of $1000 a week) from former Footscray player Mark Hunter, who was now a professional form analyst.

The rest of my knowledge came from the social circles I moved in.

The night before, I'd been drinking with Nick Williams, whose father, Lloyd Williams, is one of Victoria's most prominent racehorse owners.

Nick told me their star galloper Native Jazz was a certainty to win the Craiglee. Then, as I arrived at the track on the morning of the races, I ran into the owner of North Boy, who told me his horse was a good thing in the Ascot Vale Stakes.

I walked into Flemington with $2000 on me, and the first thing I did was put half of the cash into a quadrella. I loved quaddies.

Having to pick the winners of four races in a row meant you were playing for big bucks. And I was absolutely confident which horses would take out the first two legs - North Boy and Native Jazz.

I used the rest of my money on doubles bets with bookies, quinellas and straight-up punts on horses like Royal Voyage - a 20-1 chance in race 7 - one of Hunter's best outsiders.

The day started well. I backed the winners in a couple of early races and started accumulating winnings.

I bought a few drinks for my mates and shouted beers for some members of the public.

When race 5 arrived, I was pumped, and my mood lifted further when North Boy raced away to win by two lengths. Next up was the Craiglee: C'mon Native Jazz!

In a tight finish, he saluted ahead of Aka Bilk, Universal Prince and Umrum.

I was firing. After starting with two grand, I now had over $100,000.

The murmur went around the track that my mates and I were winning big. People started congregating around us, probably because I kept buying everyone drinks.

My heart was pounding as my tip for race 7, Royal Voyage, charged down the straight alongside Touch The Groom, and I was yelling and screaming as they crossed the line together.

The judges called for a photo. I waited nervously, then roared with delight - my horse had won by a nose.

I had winning tickets galore, and I was now more than $200,000 up. It was the greatest feeling.

One leg of the quaddie remained. I had five or six runners, but I thought 9-1 chance Scenic Peak was the best value, so I put 10 grand extra on him.

Coming down the straight, Scenic Peak was locked in a duel with Dash for Cash, and I went bananas as he pulled away in the last 200m and won by a length. The quaddie paid about $10,000 and I had it a few times.

Suddenly, I was $400,000 up.

I was walking on air, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

In the last race, I had $20,000 on Rain Gauge.

After a classic battle, Rain Gauge and Primrose Sands hit the line together. A photo was called for to split them, but it couldn't. Dead heat! That was good enough for me.

I whooped and hollered as another great pile of cash was deposited by the TAB into my phone account.

In total, I won $498,000 that afternoon. It was an unbelievable day. By the end I had hundreds of hangers-on and I pretty much shouted the bar.

I was the king of Flemington.

There was only one place to go when I was on a winning run like this - Crown casino.

I rounded up my gang of footballers and a few of the girls who were hanging off us, and we were walking towards the taxi rank when I spotted a bus parked near the entrance.

I walked up to the driver and said: "Hey mate, how much to buy your bus?" The driver looked at me and replied: "What the hell are you on?"

I pulled out a huge wad of $100 notes. "I'm serious. How much to buy your bus?" The driver ignored me, and for a brief moment I realised I was being a super-big-noting idiot, so I changed tack.

"OK then," I said to him. "How much to take us to the casino?"

I was acknowledged with a shake of the head and a chuckle. "Look mate, I'm here to pick up a bucks party, so bugger off." I decided to go for broke.

"I'll give you $5000 if you'll take us to Crown." This time he couldn't say no.

By the time the bus arrived back at Flemington, I was in the Mahogany Room playing blackjack and betting $25,000 on each hand.

Everyone wanted to know me at the casino and I carried on like I was a multi-millionaire. I got absolutely plastered. My biggest losses always occurred when I was drunk, and that night was no exception.

When I ran out of cash, I raided my phone account by visiting the TAB outlet near the big screens. I went so crazy that when I woke up the next morning, I had no idea if any of my winnings remained.

Panic-stricken, I phoned the TAB to check my balance: "You have $380,000." I was relieved. But I had lost over $100,000 at Crown.

Although my binge had technically ended with me ahead, my big wins that day simply made me yearn for more big wins, so my gambles became bigger, too. It was a terrible cycle.

A month later I went to the Thousand Guineas meeting with my teammate Guy Rigoni and then Hawthorn player Jade Rawlings.

I met the boys at a pub on Dandenong Rd, across from the racetrack. We weren't there for long but I managed to win $5000 on the pokies.

My luck continued when the races started. All of a sudden I was $40,000 up and the boys were loving it.

I plunged on outsider Magical Miss in the Guineas and when she crossed the line a couple of lengths clear, I was the greatest punter in the universe: now we were $100,000 in front.

I finished off by backing the quinella in the seventh and walked away from Caulfield having made a cool $140,000.

You'd think I would've been the happiest man in Melbourne. But for some reason I didn't take out a quaddie and it paid $70,000. I was fuming, angry with myself because I had backed the winners of all four legs. I should have won a million dollars.

Nevertheless, we went to the Harp Hotel in Kew and drank until we couldn't walk.

Three days later I headed to the Caulfield Cup and, unbelievably, I cleaned up again. This time I won about $100,000. My total winnings for the Spring Carnival stood at just shy of $740,000.

Taking out the losses I had incurred at the casino and various pokie venues, I was half a million up.

At that point, I made what should have been one of the smartest decisions in my life.

I bought a house in Dawson Ave, Brighton, for $1.35 million and put down the $500,000 as the deposit. It was a beautiful place, less than 100m from the beach. If I had stopped right at that moment, my life would have been back on track. But I didn't.

My gambling addiction had intensified because of my recent big wins. I craved another great success, and so I punted at the casino and on the horses like a man possessed.

Thirteen weeks after buying the place in Brighton, not long after the settlement had gone through and I had moved in, I had to sell it as I couldn't meet the repayments.

Seven years and a couple of real estate booms later, the house was sold again. This time it fetched $8 million.

[Dutchy]

Yeah read that this morning and was captivated by it. Interesting that they focussed a fair bit on the ups not the downs of his experience.

Good reminder not to take it too seriously.

[OnSong]

Imagine the high. It would have been better than any drugs could give you. Lol

Mind you, the comedown would have been harsh too.

[JK]

Both your comments Dutchy and OnSong are spot on I reckon .. It was amazing reading and had been my intention to whack* a copy in here.

I reckon most of us have bet and lost more than we should have on occasion, but thats some seriously amazing behaviour there

[White Line Fever]

I'm in shock.

I cannot believe people bet and lose that much.

I'm devastated when I lose more than $20 in one go.

[devilsadvocate]

Both your comments Dutchy and OnSong are spot on I reckon .. It was amazing reading and had been my intention to whack* a copy in here.

I reckon most of us have bet and lost more than we should have on occasion, but thats some seriously amazing behaviour there

LOL

you had me at amazing

[JK]

I get that a lot mate

[hottie]

At least you can see the honesty in this part of the book,i have gambled for many years and will always be well behind,even though i am more selective now and keep records,alot of punters will only tell you about their wins and never be upfront about the losses,and never do anything constructive when they have a decent win,just think they are invincible and will continue to invest more until its all gone. ps.then have the nerve to ask to borrow money and you wait ages for the money to be repaid,whilst that person continues to gamble and makes poor excuses not to repay.