Game, Set, Cash!

by Brad Hutchins

  I look at them and laugh. ‘They don’t even know,’ I reply. The six security guards all stand there trying to look tough instead of ignorant. None of them say a word. An official obviously told them to kick me out and they followed orders without question. I look to the cop and smile. ‘See? I’m good to go, right?’

  He seems confused. He’s probably wondering why he just issued a trespass order at somebody else’s request without doing his own police work first. ‘Yeah, we’re all done here, sonny. You can leave now.’

  ‘Thank you. Oh, and gentlemen?’ The security crew all look up. ‘Good luck finding Tim back in there. He’s shaved his head. Happy hunting!’

  ‘Aw, we’ll git ’im. Don’t yeew worry, boy!’ one of them shouts. They turn to each other, invigorated by this challenge.

  I walk away laughing to myself, wondering how long the goose chase will last, and hail a cab. Looks like work is over for the week – it’s beer o’clock!

  *

  Two hours later, our complimentary shuttle bus is dropping us outside a bar. It is time to meet the Dallas locals. For some unknown reason, Texan girls seem to go mental for Australian guys. I’m not sure what they think they know about us, but they are welcome to keep on thinking it.

  ‘Dude, check it out.’ Fitzy nudges me. ‘You can literally see the news of our arrival spreading around the bar!’

  He’s not kidding. People are pointing at us and turning to their friends to spread the word. A girl walks up to us and says, ‘Hey, are you guys really from Australia?’

  ‘Yeah, we are. We’re here for the tennis,’ I reply.

  ‘Oh, wow. So you guys are tennis players?’

  This is always the conclusion people draw when you tell them you’re in town for the tennis. I usually correct them straight away – I hate the idea of lying to get into someone’s good graces. But we’re drunk and Tim says, ‘Yeah, we’re the best bloody doubles team you’ve ever seen!’ There’s enough laughter in his voice to suggest he’s joking but the girls hear what they want to hear and now we are surrounded by eager ‘fans’ who want to buy us drinks.

  One of the girls used to live in Sydney and starts chatting to us about her memories of Australia. She’s around thirty but has a Hugh Hefner-style sugar daddy with her who looks to be well into his sixties. He asks what we’re drinking. We try to decline politely but he insists.

  ‘Don’t worry, he’s rich!’ the girl gushes. ‘You should see his car!’

  ‘Yeah, honey, take the boys out and show them the car. Here are the keys.’

  I notice a Mercedes symbol on the key. But it’s not until we walk out to the parking lot with drinks in hand (yeah, security are a lot more relaxed here than at the tennis) that I realise he is the owner of an SLS AMG. It’s the most expensive and powerful car Mercedes-Benz makes, and the most expensive car anyone’s ever handed me the keys to. Roger Federer happens to be the face of the brand and I’ve read that he is also a proud owner of one of these fine automobiles. Fitzy and I swing the gullwing doors open and jump into the plush leather bucket seats with drinks in hand. I hit the ignition button and fire the engine up. It roars to life and purrs beautifully … until I slam my foot down on the accelerator and redline it. Now it’s screaming like a jet engine. Tim grins at me from the passenger seat with pure, childlike joy in his eyes. It’s a beast, and, while I’m pretty sure I’ll never own one, I relish the opportunity to pretend for a couple of minutes.

  Back in the bar, we’re dragged into a round of whiskey shots. There are a whole group of people asking us questions and buying us drinks. Texans are definitely some of the friendliest people I’ve ever met. They’re all about having a good time, too. One girl bails me up and starts chatting at the bar, only to be interrupted by another girl, who presents me with an ultimatum. ‘So, who will it be then? Her or me?’

  I’m speechless. This type of thing doesn’t happen in real life. That’s the problem with my life, though – it’s not a normal, real person’s life. I shudder to think how I’ll ever fit into a real job or career one day. But I’m quickly distracted from these thoughts and dragged into yet another round of shots. We drink, dance, tell jokes, laugh and make out with local Texan girls. It’s a great night, and an early morning by the time our faithful shuttle-bus driver comes to pick us up. Now that’s service! On the way home, we rejoice over the fact that tomorrow offers wakeboarding and warm, sunny weather, sans work. It is going to be an amazing week.

  The problem is it’s too good to be true. A few hours later, I’m startled out of my slumber by the piercing tone of my phone ringing. It’s Nads. We’ve both been booted, so we’re dead weight in Dallas. He’s booking us on a flight to New York … today! Shitballs! At least in New York, we can trade the qualifiers in the US Open. I have a list of girls’ phone numbers and was looking forward to hitting the wakeboard park. Too bad. Looks like it’s time to pack our bags yet again. Life could be worse, though – we’re off to the Big Apple!

  13

  NEW YORK, NEW YORK

  It’s my first time. In all my travels, I’ve never even come close to visiting the Big Apple. Of all the amazing cities on earth I’ve seen – London, Paris, Rome, Istanbul, Athens, Moscow and the rest – I have yet to add arguably the most prolific and prodigious of them to my list.

  New York is the epitome of a thriving metropolis. Everywhere you look, something is happening. People are filming TV shows, commercials, movies, you name it. Onlookers are filming the filming. Actors, musicians and all types of celebrities pass you by on the street. There are urban legends of alligators in the sewers below (the steam actually rises up through the manhole covers like a scene from Ninja Turtles or Ghostbusters) but your attention is usually fixed on the soaring skyscrapers overhead. This glinting jungle of monstrous structures is the crown jewel in America’s claim as the leading capitalist superpower of our world. It is a symbol of her twenty-first-century mission to lead capitalism, corporate growth and finance to new heights. From the Financial District of Wall Street to the World Trade Center site and the UN headquarters, New York boasts the biggest and the best. The thing is, nobody is exempt from this seemingly elite area. Anyone can tread the streets and take in their fill of New York. As a result, all walks of life converge in this vast and dynamic city. The multicultural melting pot bubbles away at an all-time high in Manhattan, where you can hear Russian to your left, Spanish to your right, English blaring from car stereos, and whatever it is you call that strange language that the locals speak.

  New Yorkers are the most flamboyant, loudmouthed and individualistic people on earth. They are opinionated and will always voice their two cents for the world to hear. Their actions speak even louder, though, with dancing, singing, busking, skateboarding and all sorts of entertainment lining the streets. Everywhere you look, your senses are assaulted. It’s busy, robust, colourful and diverse. There is simply no place on earth like New York.

  *

  As Fitzy and I jump in an unlicensed taxi at JFK Airport, we soak up a bunch of local knowledge from our loud, overweight and somewhat ignorant cab driver. He’s lived in Queens all his life, knows New York inside out and sports a thick Yankee accent. Apparently, he used to be an acquaintance of John Gotti’s, the Teflon Don. Fitzy and I look at each other and roll our eyes as he says this. It’s very hard to picture this man being affiliated with the late head of the Gambino crime family. When we give him the address of our hotel in Brooklyn, he warns us to be careful during our stay.

  ‘It’s a pretty rough neighbourhood out there. Lot a ghetto people about so you guys just keep your wits about you when ya walkin’ the street, okay?’

  We nod in agreement. We have no idea what to expect during our fist visit to this big city.

  ‘And look out for the Puerto Ricans too. Those fuckin’ Puerto Ricans are dangerous.’

  We continue nodding. This oddly racist lecture
gets stranger by the minute. He tells us where to go out, which sights are worth seeing and which places to avoid. From what we can gather, he lives with his mother and spends most of his time on the couch, watching television and eating pizza. He’s an interesting character, a clichéd New Yorker, and the perfect taxi driver to introduce us to the local mindset and attitude.

  The view from our hotel room is impressive. The Williamsburg, Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges all extend over the East River to the glinting, staggered horizon of Manhattan as it shines in a pink haze of sunset. I instantly recognise the Empire State Building. The photogenic Chrysler Building also stands out among the gargantuan towers in the skyline. As I soak in this horizon, I see Gotham City, the scene of King Kong’s final stand, Patrick Bateman’s killing grounds and Godzilla’s mosh pit. I see the metropolis where aliens rained down hellfire in War of the Worlds and Independence Day. I’ve seen this landscape in the past, present, future and even in alternate realities. It’s been depicted to me on TV and cinema screens all of my life. I’ve known it ever since I was a child – even Sesame Street is set here! It’s the most recognisable and influential city in the world, and I’ve finally got a chance to walk its streets and soak up the vibrant energy that ten million inhabitants create on a daily basis.

  I’ve almost forgotten – I’m here for work! It’s September and we’re about to enter a Grand Slam week, so there’s no time to be squandered exploring and sightseeing. We’ll be working long hours to trade every point possible, and staying focused on the tennis is our primary task. Consequently, the first of New York’s famous attributes I’m introduced to is the Subway. I’m not impressed. Compared with European metro systems, I find it ugly, dilapidated and shambolic. The tracks are littered with rubbish and rats. For one of the most populated and industrious cities in the world, New York is somewhat let down by its famous Subway. It serves its purpose, though, and gets us to Flushing Meadows, the home of the fourth and final Grand Slam event of the year – the US Open.

  It is interesting to think we’re here to gamble on a major sporting event where the general public will spectate and barrack ferociously but never seem to get too caught up in the betting side of the sport. The United States has always had a strange relationship with gambling and for the moment remains well behind the United Kingdom in terms of online betting and leniency in gambling laws. Sports such as basketball, baseball and grid iron have never been popular with the online gambling market. You can trade these sports using Betfair but only if you’re in a country where it is legal. As a result, Americans have very little to do with online gambling. In fact, I’ve never once met or heard of a trader who hails from the States. Can you imagine the amount of money that would be traded online during big NBA matches if the general public of America were willing and able to bet in play? But, because the Betfair market consists predominantly of European and British punters, the online trading focus has remained on sports with a large following in the United Kingdom and Europe, soccer and tennis being the major drawcards. While soccer has a larger fan base, it simply can’t produce constant bountiful trading opportunities, and this leaves the great sport of tennis at the top of the trading world.

  So, when we enter the grounds of Flushing Meadows’s famous tennis centre, we’re quietly confident that nobody around us has the faintest idea what we’re up to. Security guards, police and spectators are more concerned about terrorists (the tournament does take place in early September, after all) than obscure professional gamblers.

  Despite the crowds, the line-up to get in is a simple exercise compared with that of Wimbledon or even Roland Garros. The grounds are huge, and the weather is surprisingly hot and muggy in New York at this time of the year. There’s a massive crowd present, and a buzz of excitement is in the air. We are all stoked to have the added crowd cover and instantly settle into a relaxed state to trade these big matches. The show courts are immense (Arthur Ashe centre court is the largest tennis stadium on the planet), and the crowd produces an electric atmosphere for each match. The players rise to the occasion, and I walk out the gates telling friends, ‘I’ve just watched the best match of tennis I’ve ever seen in my life!’ on two separate occasions that week.

  The trading atmosphere is equally intense. This year has seen a number of new players enter the game. Looking around on court, I can count up to twenty traders present just in one stand. In Rome, it became clear that some traders were struggling and being left behind. With such fierce competition on the tour, the focus has shifted to speed and technology. Traders are making significant investments and going to incredibly resourceful lengths to make sure they have the best possible Wi-Fi connection and systems to log points with. It’s at the Grand Slam events that these big competitors really come to the fore and make their presence known on the market.

  A good phone is essential – it needs to have a compatible and accessible operating system and allow traders to install their trading software confidently before they hit the court. The English lads have recently purchased special-agent-like kits with tiny little flesh-coloured earpieces and beige wires to hook up a microphone underneath their shirt. They sit in the crowd chewing gum and slyly chatting to their back end on Skype while people around them are none the wiser. This is the clearest means of communication but it can limit speed, as their back end then has to input the bet manually.

  Some guys install a program for their phone and click as each point comes through. Once a button is clicked, it sends information through to a server, where an automated bet is processed according to the mathematical model. This is our method, and, while it’s very simple, it’s hard to say what’s the best. It’s not as quick as having a mini-computer to gamble with directly in the stands, as other guys do. However, these days, sitting on court with Betfair open on a laptop commonly results in these traders being dragged out of the stadium quick smart.

  Other traders use remote devices that connect to their matrix or program via Bluetooth. I know a few guys who’ve used Nintendo Wii controllers in their pockets. They sit on court with their hands by their side and tap the button through their pants each time a point is decided. Some traders use car remotes and others even program digital cameras to send the signal through each time they press a particular button – blending in like your everyday punter or tourist, relaxing in the crowd.

  Wi-Fi connection is a very important facet of the game, and most traders will purchase SIM cards local to the area to ensure the best coverage and connection. I’ve heard of some guys sneaking onto the tournament’s Wi-Fi by obtaining a press pass and using access codes or even paying people for them. Getting a solid Wi-Fi connection is always the first priority at an event, but it becomes paramount at the US Open, where the dense population and huge crowds can affect the network coverage and often cause drops or delays in signals. This is not a problem you want to be plagued with during a pivotal match.

  To combat these difficulties, we sometimes use Mi-Fi devices and create a local private network to boost our phone’s connection. Conveniently, in the United States, Verizon released a 4G version of this little tool, which offered a marked speed advantage over the outdated 3G models. One of the English traders, Dylan, went around to stores in New York and pretty much bribed Verizon employees to set him up with a number of false accounts just so he could get access to these 4G Mi-Fis. Seeing as nobody else had them, he traded the rest of the tournament with a distinct advantage over the competition. I wish he’d let us in on that secret a littler earlier in the week!

  Another fickle phone issue is battery life. As we often work ten- to twelve-hour days, we need a number of phone and Mi-Fi batteries to last us through. This is fine if we get a chance to change them between sets or matches, but if our battery dies mid-point we stand to lose a lot of precious time during crucial moments in a match. We may get caught out in a bad position and it could cost us. One of the funniest things I see on court this week is two of my Swedis
h friends sitting their Mi-Fi unit on a bag of ice to prevent the battery from overheating and dying on them suddenly. Traders really are a resourceful bunch.

  With so much money at stake, the technological edge becomes an obsession. By this stage, you might be wondering just how much money we’re talking about. If a person can purchase a flight, hotel, weekly ticket package and still stand to make a healthy profit, then how much are they winning? Well, as a benchmark, during the 2012 US Open final, where Andy Murray defeated Novak Djokovic for his first Grand Slam title, over £65 million was matched on the Betfair market. You only need to share in a tiny fraction of that to understand the profit potential.

  All this technology is key to winning but it’s hard to explain why you’ve brought it with you if you’re questioned at the tennis. I receive many an odd look from fellow spectators while dropping spare batteries on the ground or fiddling around with the suspicious-looking Mi-Fi device in my bag. One dude stares at me as I walk through Arthur Ashe Stadium and I can’t understand why until I look down and see my Mi-Fi unit with its red light flashing through my carry bag. He must think I’m a terrorist or something! I take off in the opposite direction because I don’t want to be reported to the police. It must make me look even more suspicious, but I don’t want to cop any heat. Giving the real explanation will still result in me being kicked out of the grounds and banned.