Every racetrack has its collection of crazy characters, caricatures who are as much a part of the colour of racing as the horses, trainers, jockeys and fashionistas.

Hong Kong is no different, with Sha Tin and Happy Valley bringing out an assortment of delights which vary from the delightful to the downright strange.

In fact, there seems to be more here, simply because of the demographic of most racegoers – older local men dominate the scene.

However, there are a few highlights which have become such a part of the fabric, as much a fixture as Tony Cruz, they deserve to be immortalised in this blog.

Unfortunately, we’re leaving out the likes of Andy Leung Ting-wah, who fits in snugly now he is – as he said himself on Wednesday night – an “outsider”. Whether he is actually an outsider is another point entirely.

One of our favourite characters is Mr Sure Win, a craggy-faced local with surprisingly good English who wears the same off-yellow and blue checked shirt every week – except for last weekend, Ladies’ Purse day, when he stepped it up in the fashion stakes by raiding Dave Dobbyn’s closet for a black shirt with pink horses.

He’s a prolific chaser of tips, asking anyone within sight who they like – even having the gall (or ignorance) to badger one of the stewards for a selection.

Every tip is qualified with “sure win?”, the only English phrase many racegoers know.

Most recently, he was seen collecting for charity in Causeway Bay … hopefully not trying to build a bank.

There is the soldier stuck in a time warp, looking like he’s walked out of 1940s Manchuria or perhaps Kim Il-sung’s North Korean army of the 1950s.

He is never missing from the Happy Valley melee, usually replete in brown. However, he does occasionally mix it up – while always sticking with his brown bow tie.

There is also the guy who asks anyone who looks important for their autograph. Jockeys and trainers are asked for their signature after big-race wins, which is fair enough, but he clearly has no idea who the important gweilos are. Last Sunday, he badgered SCMP racing writer Michael Cox for an autograph.

Many of them see a white man, though, and think he must be involved in fixing races – just like the good old days.

It’s a mindset not exclusive to local punters. One of the local trainers remarked upon finding out the latest SCMP recruit was from down under: “Oh no, the last thing we need is more Australians in our racing.” It was only slightly tongue in cheek.

Oh no, the last thing we need is more Australians in our racing
Unnamed local trainer

Then there is GWG. He produces a cloak and dagger act that would have made any KGB agent squirm because of the lack of discretion. Thin and tall, his flailing arms give him a John McCririck resemblance, the tic-tac gestures – once described as like “an Octopus calling in an Airbus” – translated to numbers, not odds.

However, whether it’s odds-on or 100-1, his answer is always the same – he won’t listen, and instead insists he will “go with George”, hence GWG. George, of course, is George Moore, bloodstock agent and son of John.

But the king of them all is Tam Ling, a true legend trackside. For each of the 770-odd races, he can be found right opposite the winning post, cheering on Casibah (Caspar Fownes) and pulling on the tail of Weidah (Douglas Whyte) – an animosity that stretches back to the days when Whyte dethroned Robbie Fradd as champion jockey.

Every meeting, Tam Ling greets us as we arrive and salutes us as we depart, hoping for a little sling along the way. The biggest mistake made since arriving? Giving him HK$10 at the first meeting.

A SCMP feature 12 years ago captured much of Tam Ling’s sad and sorry early life, before he found racing as a salvation. It’s well worth a read.

Unfortunately, our efforts to try to get something more out of him failed miserably, even with the help of a Cantonese translator. Somehow, a question about life turns into a tip for Casibah’s horse – a common theme, it seems.

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