Goodbye, Foggy

Like most horseplayers, I've developed affinities for certain horses while playing the races. But, among these special horses, not every horse is viewed with an equal level of fondness. Some horses merely appeal to the betting side of my soul, typically for their consistency in interesting ways. These horses are ones that, for whatever reason, are profitable, but not terribly inspiring to watch and certainly not awe-inducing. Contemporary examples from the New York circuit could include Naughty New Yorker, who, up until his last race where he showed some new tricks, was a classic consistent late plodding closer, or Freedom Isn't Free, a consistent board horse that has the speed, but not the personality, to win. I like these horses, but don't love them, accepting our relationships for what they are -- mere relationships of convenience to help the grinding out of a profit.

But, then there are the relationships that are deeper -- the ones with the horses that can do something special on the race track. We saw one of my favorites yesterday with Lava Man becoming the first horse to win the Big Cap, Hollywood Gold Cup, and Pacific Classic in the same year. And, in doing so, he fought off the demons of last year by maintaining his form late into the summer season. He now will seek to complete the ultimate rags to riches story -- moving from the claiming ranks to horse of the year by winning the Breeders' Cup Classic. Yet, despite this inspirational performance from a true champion, the weekend was left covered by a tremendous cloud with the news that Lost in the Fog -- another one of these special horses -- had terminal cancer.

I've written about Lost in the Fog before (see the June Archives) and most racing fans are familiar with the exploits of this horse. And, elsewhere this season, I've drank the anti-Kool Aid and become critical of this horse, and openly wondered whether I had been fooled and christened merely a fast developing horse as a great one way too soon. Looking at this performance this season, I had to admit it -- his critics have been right. He was simply beating up on weak horses and was exposed in his first real test during the Breeders' Cup, and he would continue to be exposed during the remainder of his career. But, upon receiving the terrible news, and thinking back about the past two years with the Fog, I finally realize what I've missed in accepting these arguments -- whether LITF was a great horse is absolutely and completely meaningless to his story. By focusing the light solely on this particular question, we are likely to miss a good part of what brings us to the racetrack in the first place.

From the beginning, he was a thrill to follow and observe and made for wondrous anticipation, intense drama, and, especially, great horse races. I remember vividly the first race I watched of him on Fountain of Youth day last year. I was blown away by his performance -- I don't recall ever seeing anything like it. I went home and signed up for a replay service so I could watch what I had seen again and again. And, I was thrilled when I returned to the OTB on Wood Memorial Day and saw him slated to run again -- I had been mesmerized by the sheer speed and intangible wonder that this horse brought to the races. And, when I originally planned a trip to NYC from Denver for the Belmont Stakes that year (the plans unfortunately fell through), I was most excited about being able to see the Fog in person. But, I told my friends to make sure to be there for his race, and sure enough, they came home talking non-stop about Foggy, instead of Afleet Alex.

Yes, on a one-dimensional hierarchical scale, LITF was not historically great, or possibly, even the best sprinter in his particular time and place. But, when looking at the intangibles of what makes a horse race great and what makes this sport thrilling to watch, he was as good as it gets. Even in defeat, he was the consummate race horse -- the type you rush home to see his race and wonder whether he'll wow you again. And that's what makes his story on the racetrack so wonderful and its ending off it so devastating. I'll miss him and what he brings to this sport terribly.

They're Alive!!!

The Handicapping Life made a brief haj last week down to the mecca of horse racing. A nice ride on the Lake Champlain Ferry and an uncrowded journey down I-87 brought me down to Saratoga, where I met my parents for a wonderful day explaining and sharing the races. Yet, despite the beautiful surroundings, I usually have mixed feelings about going to the track. I never bet as clearly as I do at home and a strange need for action comes over me -- I find myself with a bet in almost every race...something that never happens when playing from home. And, yet, despite these temporary losses and annoyances and the obvious benefits of spending time and sharing the sport with others, I still go to the track for one primary reason: Like many horseplayers, I simply love seeing horses in person.

Upon arrival, a full parking lot forced me far away from the race course, but, much to my excitement, extremely close to the stable area. I'd wandered around the backside of tracks before -- most notably at an empty Keeneland during a visit last summer -- but I'd never been to one that was fully stocked with the best horses in the world. I walked past Corinthian, the spastic horse who caused the Fountain of Youth drama, and Artie Schiller, the defending Breeders' Cup Mile champion, who keeps finding ways to burn the public's money. And I saw tons of beautiful, active horses that I couldn't recognize. It was, hands down, one of the highlights of the summer.

I've always found these feelings quite surprising -- independent of my love of racing, I'd never be described by friends as a horse lover, and the suburban Cleveland home of my youth did not present much opportunity for horse keeping. And, because of Denver's lack of big time racing (where I first became deeply enamored with the sport), most of my early experience with playing the horses came through watching TV monitors and engaging in data analysis in the racing form. Yet despite my lack of tangible experience with horses, I always feel a special affinity towards these animals when I see them in person. I think, at the core, see in these animals reminds me of something that I occasionally forget -- that the entities that we're betting on are living creatures, with all the nuances, quirks, and intangible wonder that life brings.

And, in addition to this fuzzy feeling, I also find that seeing horses close up in person, at the backside or even just the paddock, really helps my bottom line. Sitting in my office and reviewing race after race, I unfortunately occasionally forget that horses exist independent of racing and are way more than just a collection of numbers. And, when I get into this mechanistic thinking, I find that my handicapping suffers -- I'm engaging in static, as opposed to dynamic analysis, and routinely find myself supporting the animals that look the best on the surface of the form. It's only when I'm truly aware that horses are living creatures with a tremendous amount of volatility in performance that my handicapping reaches the level for profit. And, so, even with short-term losses, I'm always willing to take a occasional day to go visit any track. Besides, I still haven't figured out how to get Saratoga chips, a BBQ pork sandwich, or tasty draft beer in my office.

Show me the money!

This past Saturday, I originally decided to take a much-needed day away from the races. Yet, being the devoted horseplayer that I am, I nonetheless decided to take a late evening look, figuring I might find a minor stakes or a solid allowance race to capture my attention. Within minutes, I'd isolated a race that fit the profile: The Prairie Meadows Sprint. A quick analysis of the six-horse field revealed a heavy and legitimate favorite in Coach Jimi Lee, a winner of almost $800 thousand that, on paper, dominated a field of local allowance horses. It seemed like a lockdown bet for sure. As I searched the pools for value, my attention turned to the show pool, where I unsurprisingly discovered that the bridge jumpers had found another target. I didn’t write down the exact amounts, but, at post time, it was something like $97,000 bet on the Coach and only around $1000 bet on the others combined. Needless to say, Coach Jimi Lee dominated the field on the track, and the show bettors happily survived – taking the minimum payout ($2.20 in Iowa) and collectively forcing the track to pony over $9700 into their pockets.

Lately, I’ve become intrigued by these bridge jumping incidents. For those unfamiliar, the act of bridge jumping is a consequence of the mandatory minimum payouts for $2 bets, even if insufficient funds exist in the pari-mutuel pool to fund the payouts. Thus, a bettor could bet as much as he’d like into the pool and be guaranteed a 5% return ($2.10) or 10% ($2.20). While a bettor could always bet an inordinate amount of money into a pool and turn the payoff into the minimum, it usually only occurs in the show pool -- the only place where a bettor could theoretically determine that the reward is consummate with the risk. And, the consequences of failure, of course, are extreme – hence the term “bridge jumping.” Despite the small anticipated payoff, you’ll lose your entire investment if something goes awry.

Most handicappers I’ve met chastise this risky behavior – laughing loudly when one of these horses fails to hit the board. Yet, despite this public scorn, these incidents happen quite often, and typically, they’re successful – it only becomes a topic of conversation when they do fail. And, when failure occurs, it’s usually only due to catastrophe, such as breakdown or a thrown jockey – even a bad start usually allows a talented, dominant horse to get up for third. And, in the extremely rare cases where they do fail due to the competition of the race, such as Dubai Escapade in the Princess Rooney, it’s typically due to case of a miscalculated risk, such as the failure to consider that a horse was trying a new track (the tiring surface of Calder) and a new level (Grade I) or, in other cases, simply putting too much faith in the predictability of the unreliable non-stakes horse.

And, although hundreds of thousands tend to flow into these pools in the biggest races, I've never met this type of bettor, either on the track or in my conversations with handicappers across the country. And, yet, they clearly exist – throwing down their $5000 to win $250 week after week after week. At its core, it’s a strange sort of betting that goes against much of the current orthodoxy of wagering. It requires virtual perfection – a far cry from a long term philosophy encouraging overlay wagers that one expects to lose in the short term. One miss in 20 (at the common $2.10 minimum) renders any gains moot. And a second miss in 20 brings the losses to a level that would be very hard to catch. While it’s possible to balance these over time, the sheer loss of capital makes the long-term quite difficult to achieve without an immense bankroll. And, even with an massive bankroll, it’s hard to believe that profitability could result from these bets unless they were virtually fail safe – expected to hit over 95 times out of 100. And, in order to derive any substantial profit, a hit rate of 99% must be expected. Yet, these wagers happen and occur with great regularity – is it possible that some out there achieve this lofty goal? These wagers – when carefully chosen -- probably offer the closest thing to certainty in the entire world of racing. And, while the consequence of a loss is great, I often wonder whether the risk, when analyzed in terms of likelihood of happening, is really that large compared to other, more socially accepted wagers. Indeed, a precise show bet may be the least risky proposition – even when considered in terms of potential reward – in the entire game of racing.

But, even putting aside the mathematics of risk and the murky waters of assessment, these wagers fascinate me from the perspective of my favorite topic – the psychological side of the handicapping life. First, I can’t imagine that wagering like this is very fun. There’s no excitement in waiting for the expected to happen, the rewards are never very high, and the anxiety from the large potential consequences must be unnerving. And, despite the large size of the wager, it’s about as far from pure gambling as you can get. There’s no rush and no adrenaline boost from the big potential payday – a fact which inspires the playing of many of horseplayer. In addition, wagering like this goes against the short-term ego gratification that drives many horseplayers. There’s no feeling of outsmarting the crowd in an individual race when you merely echoed the crowd’s sentiments to an extreme. And, yet, with careful selection and not too much extreme bad luck, the bridge jumper can feel good at the end of the day – pocketing a profit – something that the typical horseplayer only does with a generous helping of luck.

So, what sort of picture are we left with of the supposed bridge jumper? To me, despite the moniker, the extreme show bettor is much less a risk taker than the typical horseplayer – an exceptionally careful individual, meticulously picking his spots to avoid the vagaries of luck and who is also free from the need to take risks for short term ego gratification. Indeed, in comparing this with the typical horseplayer, I’m left wondering who the real bridge jumpers are in this game.

Exotic Betting: A Reaction

In my last entry, I cautioned against the over consumption of handicapping books and the importance of maintaining a critical skepticism towards experts. Yet, accompanying this warning, I carved out an exception for certain type of books, including books about bet structuring. However, as of this spring, the handicapping literature on bet structuring was quite thin – an appendix to Steve Davidowitz’s Betting Thoroughbreds, a few paragraphs in Andrew Beyer’s The Winning Horseplayer, and a couple of chapters in James Quinn’s The Best of Throughbred Handicapping constituted the entirety of the mainstream works. Based on this paucity of novel approaches, it was with much anticipation that I awaited the publication of Steven Crist’s Exotic Betting -- a book that I heard him first describe last fall during a Breeder’s Cup preview session at Belmont Park.

Even while my view of handicapping experts had soured as I developed as a horseplayer, my excitement for this book was still quite large. I anticipated its publication throughout the winter – I had great respect for Crist’s intellectual ability, his writing skill, and his success as a horseplayer, and I looked forward to him shedding some new insight into racing’s most challenging and rewarding bets. Yet, when the book finally arrived last Wednesday and I finished it the same day, I was left feeling a bit unsatisfied. Written on such a narrow topic and advertised as dealing solely with bet structuring (as opposed to selection), I expected the book to emphasize and detail strategies for maximizing potential return at appropriate levels of risk through the use of exotic wagering – the key principles of a disciplined and winning approach to the races. Simply put, I wanted to know when to add that extra horse to a trifecta ticket or when it made financial sense to leave off a vulnerable favorite in a leg of the Pick 4. In contrast, however, Exotic Betting is styled more as an introduction to exotic bet structuring for the absolute novice, and could be described as simply an extended and more in-depth version of a pamphlet handed out a track explaining simple horizontal and vertical strategies. This is, by no means, intended as an insult to the book or to Crist, and is more a warning to the veteran/professional player looking for advanced treatment of the subject. Indeed, the book is geared more toward the reader of Handicapping 101(which, incidentally, is a great introductory book) who routinely boxes trifectas and three-horse exactas than the reader looking to apply the principles of Fooled by Randomness or a hearty statistics tome to their wagering.

At its core, Exotic Betting contains a discussion of the basic strategies for both vertical (exacta, trifecta, and superfecta) and horizontal (daily double, pick three, pick four, and pick six) wagers. For the most part, the strategies are sound and provide a good, launching pad for deeper thinking about the exotics. In particular, Crist mentions the single, most important piece of advice for the exotics bettor: Exotics can not be used as a means to profit from an overall lack of clarity. This was a lesson that I learned in the early days of wagering, believing that I could use these bets as a replacement for difficult decision making. While you may occasionally reap the reward from this method, the bettor is typically not getting a return in accordance with the risk undertaken. And, at the core, that is what exotic betting is about -- finding ways to increase the return while managing risk -- all based upon your opinion and analysis of the race.

Unfortunately, Exotic Betting does not delve deeply into this fundamental dilemma – one in which the handicapping literature desperately needs more work. Indeed, one problem I have had in the past with other handicapping books was the failure of the authors to explore the rationales underlying certain decisions and attempt to discern general principles from specific examples – a key ingredient in the rigorous pursuit of knowledge. As an example, I’m reminded of Pedigree Handicapping by Lauren Stich, in which she never revealed any sort of guiding principles for interpreting pedigrees, instead trying to impart knowledge to the reader by example after example. While her observations were very useful, she never explained how or why she reached those conclusions, and she never gave the reader any theories for the reader to evaluate and possibly apply themselves. Unfortunately, although not to the degree of Stich’s book, Exotic Betting suffers from these same problems. And it’s only through the development of general principles that the handicapper can critically assess the theories for himself, and, as a result, continue to grow as a horseplayer.

While Exotic Betting serves an introduction to the subject, more guidance and detailed exploration of the relation between risk and reward is sorely needed in any future text dedicated to exotic bet structuring. In looking at Crist’s work, we can see the questions that need to be answered in an advanced treatment of the subject. For example, in devising his tickets for the Pick Four and Pick Six, he normally divides his horses into four groups – A’s (likely winners), B’s (horses that can win if the A’s fail), C’s (horses that could conceivably win, but are unlikely) and X’s (eliminations). Based on these classifications, he then creates tickets with various combinations of the non-eliminated horses to cover a vast range of possibilities. While Crist gives some examples of his “Chinese Menu” selection process (e.g. three from Group A with one from Group C), there is no discussion of the reasons why certain combinations are used. As a result, the reader is left wondering why he determined that financial rewards are best served by these combinations, and how to make these adjustments to their wagers. The same problem occurs in discussing the amounts to bet on certain combinations. In fashioning his tickets, Crist mentions that when he plays a Pick Four ticket with four A’s (the likeliest winners), he buys it four times to compensate for the lower payoff. Yet, much like the earlier discussion regarding the selection of combinations, no explanation is given on why or how these amounts were calculated. To the participant in the handicapping life, there is nothing worse than putting out capital at an undue amount of risk for the range and likelihoods of various returns, and, consequently, the horseplayer needs theoretical tools to help him assess when he has either overplayed or underplayed their capital.

Unlike the poker or chess player, whose shelves are filled with intellectual discussions of the finer points of the game, the advanced horse player looking for rigorous approaches to betting the game is still without much hope at the bookstore. Hopefully, in the coming years, an author – perhaps even Crist himself – will begin to develop the potential of the ideas in Exotic Betting, and bring much needed new insight to the advanced participant of the horse playing game. But, until that day, any player who finds himself boxing trifectas, baseballing exactas, or filling out a Pick 4 ticket with 2 horses in each leg, would be wise to pick up Exotic Betting to begin the process of deeper critical thinking.

The Generic Horseplayer

Conformity is a curious thing. In many walks of life, it is a pathway to comfort; a means to attain a predetermined level of security. If you play along, do what you’re told, obey the rules, then you’ll be taken care of – an above-average, yet cookie cutter life will exist for you. There’s almost no risk in taking the safe path; while the non-conventional person may attain or acquire more or less, conformity brings safety, although perhaps not deep satisfaction. I don’t disdain or disrespect anyone for making such a choice for their life – it’s a dilemma that I struggle with often. However, if you lean towards conformity and its resulting safety, then I’m fairly positive that you shouldn’t be expecting to profit from the horses, whether recreationally or professionally. Because in playing the horses, it’s exactly the opposite of many other aspects of life. Thinking like everyone else will not create even an average level of success. As in any speculative activity, profit can only result from an opinion that is different from the norm, so long as the difference of opinion is based on something tangible, and not merely different for difference sake.

As a devoted horseplayer, I’ve had my own experiences with the pressures of conforming. When I began handicapping, I was wildly successful, despite only using incomplete bits of knowledge based on repeated observation to reach my selections. My first big winner (35-1) was selected on a drop in class combined with a last race decent close -- an analysis derived solely from watching several races mixed in with a good dose of common sense. Believing that I was probably just lucky and wishing to perpetually sustain this luck, I embarked on a journey to learn as much as I could about the game. In the following months, I read the classics of Ainsle, Beyer, Brohamer, and Quinn – and a host of other authors who all added something to the equation. In fact, as of this writing, I own and have read 47 books related to handicapping – all catalogued neatly in a veritable library of truth in my office.

After reading all these books, I was armed with an almost complete body of handicapping knowledge. However, after incorporating this information into my handicapping, I noticed a not-so-positive change in my thought processes and in my ultimate selections. I now routinely settled on favorites or other top horses, and I no longer found the less than obvious horse. I routinely supported the horses that met the proven, well-trodden angles learned from the books, such as best last race finish, top speed, top trainer and jockey, best class, and improving form cycle. At the same time, I was chanting to myself the mantras of value at every turn. Although I was acutely aware of the importance of the overlay, I would incorrectly support false overlays repeatedly. And then, one day, I realized what had happened. I had become nothing but an organization man – an unthinking disciple of a dominant ideology. Stripped down of my early individuality, I had become a generic horseplayer.

Aware of my now commonplace handicapping, I began to suspect that the success at the beginning was more than just beginner’s luck and that it contained seeds of an individualized method that I had abandoned to subscribe to the views of the orthodoxy. Determined to recapture some of the methods that had worked so well at the beginning, I began to disregard conclusions based solely on the surface of the form. In an effort not to be swayed, I would make my selections ignorant of the odds, and only bet when the public did not mirror my assessment. I tried to predict how the public would value the horses – using the knowledge that I gained in my exhaustive study of the literature – and tried to find less than obvious reasons why the public might be in error. But, mostly, I tried to unlearn what the books led me to believe – that the past performances completely reflect the possibilities of the race and that an individual race can predicted with accuracy. Indeed, I discovered that, in a speculative endeavor, the illusion of certainty can be fatal. By returning to a view that anything can happen, which I held at the beginning of my horse playing days, I recaptured the looseness of thought necessary to distinguish my thought process from the crowd.

These duel perils of extensive handicapping study – conformity and the illusion of certainty – present traps for the novice and experienced player alike. For the novice player, I would caution against too much early infusion of the technical handicapping techniques of others. Seek only to understand what a past performance means and only approach the technical works when you have the base of knowledge to critically assess them. However, anything dealing with the game that does not involve the technical part of picking winners, i.e. bet structuring, money management, or emotional control, is incredibly useful to the novice (and veteran) horseplayer. And, for the seasoned horseplayer who has read the classics and is familiar with all the established techniques, a consistent check to see if you have entered the realm of the generic is always useful. This game’s ups and downs can push all but the most emotionally disciplined handicapper into moments of doubt and towards more accepted approaches and a vain quest for certainty.

To everything, there is a season

Ah, it's good to get back to the handicapping life. I apologize for the long delay in writing, but I think I have a fairly decent excuse -- I got married! Much like the best of handicapping decisions, this one was relatively spontaneous and felt absolutely right in my gut. Engaged last Wednesday evening, we bought rings on Thursday and were married Friday morning at the home of a local justice of the peace. A short jaunt up to Quebec City gave us a wonderful weekend honeymoon. We do, however, have visions of Ireland (and, of course, a visit to Curragh) for a longer honeymoon in the future.

So, needless to say, I missed watching Lava Man and his narrowest of triumphs in the Hollywood Gold Cup last Saturday. After watching the replay, however, I've developed some worries that he's slipping off form....although the Beyer did come back a strong 108. Based on last year, I'd still prefer to see Doug O'Neil rest him a bit, in order to freshen him for the race that will make his career -- the Breeders' Cup Classic.

In thinking about Lava Man's form cycle and the cliff he fell off last year, I'm reminded of a theory that I developed in my first few months of handicapping. In my first few trips to the OTB in Denver, I noticed that certain horses tended to excel at certain times of the year. In analyzing a race, I'd simply look at the calendar and see how a horse had performed in the current month in the past. I was very loose with these assessments -- looking generally at the particular season and see if I noticed a difference in performance. I evenutally abandoned this approach as unscientific, but eventually I took many of the concepts and transformed them into a quasi-form cycle assessment. And, while I'm still not sure that the seasonal theory has any validity, it doesn't really matter for the qualitiative handicapper. Because approaching a past performance from a different point of view than the basics can get you deeper into a qualitative assessment of how a horse has performed in the past and, most importantly, why he or she has performed in that fashion. And, so long as you're not married to the initial basis for the investigation, when using an approach such as this one, you are far more likely to reach novel conclusions about a race.

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We've got exciting races all throughout the weekend. Lost in the Fog reappears in the Smile Sprint and faces a very tough field and has to carry 125 pounds. Speaking of LITF, was anyone else turned off by the news that Gilchrest and Aleo would have retired the Fog if he had lost 4 in a row, simply to protect the image that this horse was once a superhorse? Statements like that really make me wonder how much of the fog was really just mirrors...and a whole bunch of smoke. Also from Calder, personal favorite Too Much Bling looks to rebound from the loss in the Woody Stephens in the Carry Back. And, later this afternoon, TMB's half-sister, Littlebitofbling tries for the second time to break her maiden in Thistledown's 10th. I love her dam, Rose Colored Lady, and I'm beginning to believe (although unscientific) that we may have some large heart size (X-factor) being passed on from this dam. Combined with the two-year old filly prowess of the Carson City line, we could be looking at a fun horse here. And while on the subject of fun sprinters, it's worth noting that Fabulous Strike -- discussed below in the entries of June 9 and 10 -- has already come back to win a minor stake at Belmont -- a much-needed return to his proper level. As proven by his domination of the field, this was yet another wise move by the other Todd, the talented and successful Todd Bettie.

Enjoy the races.

S.A.

The Fundamental Theorem of Handicapping

About a week ago, I closed with a question:

"What is the more important factor in being a successful horseplayer -- skill or luck? Or, more specifically, the ability to see a race as clearly as possible, or the ability to admit that most clarity is false?"

These questions directly relate to a line of thinking I've been exploring for quite some time. I've spent much of my adult professional life as a "truth seeker." I spent a good portion of time in academic pursuits where I'd research and think incessantly and seek the right answers to questions. And, after school, while working as an attorney for an appellate court, I was concerned with finding the right resolution to the intellectual problem posed by the case at hand. In both situations, there was one absolute truth to be found, and it was always a part of my job to find it. If I couldn't find an answer, it was always a question of looking harder or thinking deeper. I was perpetually optimistic about the eventual revelation of truth through effort.

However, as a handicapper, this optimism was misplaced; in a particular race, repeated effort or deeper thought after a certain point does not get any closer to truth. After a while, I discovered that the reason was simple: No truth is possible before a race is run, and no right answer can be found. I found that as a a handicapper, you must not be guided not by a desire for truth or knowledge or a right answer. Because no matter how deeply or skillfully you look at a particular race, you can never know what is going to happen. And, this, my friends, is the Fundamental Theorem of Handicapping.

It's almost ridiculous in its obviousness and begs for a response of "so what." But, from my own experience and development as a horseplayer, I've seen how powerfully misleading a belief in the existence of a right answer can be. In many races, it drove me to elevate secondary factors to separate contenders. And, as a result, I would reach a level of false certainty and bet with false confidence. But, unfortunately for the seeker of pure clarity, even with all the careful analysis and detailed research, you can never truly see what is going to happen. Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.

Some knowledge is, of course, essential. I believe that there is a line -- http://www.trackchampion.com/abrams_balance.aspx -- which separates legitimate initial analysis from counterproductive right answer searching. After this point, when analyzing a particular race, making repeated efforts to reach a level of certainty will always be in vain. Indeed, finding the point where you realize that any additional clarity is false is a key to this game.

S.A.