Jeremy Chapman of the Sporting Life got stung

Chapman has had a lot of great days and I expected they would fill our discussion. But in the midst of his success, there was a thoroughly miserable experience which he has now decided to reveal, when he got caught in the crossfire between a bookmaker and a high-rolling syndicate of punters.

It happened in the late 1980s, the days when high street betting was subject to a nine per cent tax, which a punter could either pay on top of their stake or accept as a deduction from their winnings. The tax didn't apply to bets struck at racecourses and Chapman, living close to both Sandown and Kempton, was regularly able to place tax-free sports bets on racedays.

"My contact was a football punter who came up to The Life's office of a Friday night to check on the Press Association tapes what the next day's team line-ups were before putting his bets on," he says, recalling how the syndicate became aware of his potential value. "He was convivial and we struck up a friendship."

This contact knew of the syndicate and Chapman was eventually asked if he could place their bets.

"It was £2,000 here, £2,000 there and they always paid the money up front, so I had no reason to doubt them," he says. "Always in cash, often delivered to my home. So I knew they had the money.

"I made a bit of commission, two per cent. I liked the thrill of it. The arrangement worked well for almost a year, although their method of getting the cash to me was occasionally bizarre."

On at least one occasion, Chapman was on a train home from work when a bundle of £50 notes was thrown at him through the open carriage door on a platform at Surbiton.

He sighs. "Then came the sting."

In 1989, golf's Open Championship was held at Royal Troon on Scotland's west coast. Chapman was bound to be there, as the syndicate knew. By the time they communicated their bets for the tournament, he was already travelling north and it was (as he now believes they had planned) too late to get him the cash.

But he had come to trust these unknown gamblers. It was a disastrous position to be in because he couldn't know the syndicate was privately furious at a bookmaker over the handling of a particular bet, which they had been denied the chance to hedge. They were minded to seek revenge.

"I was asked to put on six £12,000 doubles, all at 7-2, based on who would win groups of five players," he says. "It took them over their maximum but they had an agreement from the bookmaker that the bet would be honoured. I arranged the bet over the phone and, to make it legal, Christa went to Sandown to confirm it on course.

"I never thought any more of it until the next day, when it struck me that £72,000 was a lot more than they'd staked before. I was slightly worried. But they'd always paid in the past, no trouble whatsoever."

All six doubles lost. The syndicate refused to pay, well aware they were burning a bridge with that bookmaker but seemingly expecting no further damage would result.

"They thought I'd just refuse to pay," says Chapman. "But I couldn't, could I?"

As a Sporting Life journalist, he knew that such a debt would be poison to his professional reputation. Could readers expect him to keep his objectivity towards a firm that wrote off such a sum?

"I couldn't owe money to bookmakers," he says. "If I got reported to Monty Court [Life editor], I was probably finished."

Attempts were made to identify the gamblers who had dropped him in the soup. One was believed to live in Miami, so the FBI's Tallahassee branch was involved at one stage. It came to nothing.

Acknowledging the circumstances, the firm in question agreed to accept £40,000 from Chapman, the equivalent of £106,000 today. He raised it by extending the mortgage on his home and borrowing from Christa's inheritance. Their two daughters were taken out of private school.

"I thought I'd destroyed our lives forever, but in fact it made very little change," he says. "I thought it was the end of the world. I remember sitting on the bed and saying to Christa, 'What have I done to you?' But we got through it."

Then, in an example of Chapman's inclination to make light of any burdens, he adds: "But I did have a small heart attack."

On the one hand, Chapman did the honourable thing.

On the other hand, leaving the sting aside, he was knowingly engaging in betting tax fraud and thus depriving the nation of new lampposts and hospitals.

Mind boggling stuff Ramruma.Obviously remember him from the life,life unfortunately overflows with rodents…

Surprised he took on board the six doubles tbh….

I remember an undesirable at Hamilton giving me a nudge asking to call out to a certain bookmaker for a 700-400…

Me being me told him to F off……the horse got stuffed and a person whispered i was lucky not to bite as he would have disappeared…..w@nkers…

""I made a bit of commission, two per cent. I liked the thrill of it."   That's what can tempt people being involved in big stakes without any risk to yourself unless....

Scary stuff if you don’t know them from Adam…..

I suppose “he who filches me of my good name makes me poor indeed” was the maxim here but could he have simply refused, in the absence of the customary cash in advance, to carry out the transactions?  Would he have been under any latent threat to his person had he done so?
He was groomed and didn’t recognise it.  Would we all have been?
Probably.
Well done him though, imo.

chapmen was the lifes golf tispter wasnt he
so what he forgot to mention was i had to pay it because i advised them on their selections

not much of a STING when the STINGERS walked off with no winnings
and if they,d had a result, chapmen would have took 2% of any winnings and still no £ will changed hands,
seems the stingers found someone greedy enough to take his 2% off a bet 30 x their normal size

Would it be too cynical to ask if the bookie was in on it? He came out £40,000 on top, Chapman lost the same amount and the mysterious syndicate could not even be traced.

Interesting take on it Ramruna, very lucky number slevin ish ?

, but i like it