Professional Gamblers: The Real Harry Findlay

Right or wrong, we all carry our own perceptions of others. As the eccentric Dan Pena likes to shout, “Perception is reality.” And maybe it is. If it’s all you know, it becomes your truth.

I remember once spotting a Frenchman cycling along, a beret perched on his head, onions draped around his neck like a character straight from a postcard. Without thinking, I yelled, “Ooh la la!” It was pure cliché, but isn’t that how we often see things—a stereotype that feels so familiar, it barely needs a second glance?

Take Harry Findlay, for instance, the man behind Gambling for Life. To me, he was a brash, odds-on punter—a loud-mouthed gambler charging through life. That was my impression, though I never said it was fair or accurate. Just my perception, shaped by the media, which often paints people in broad strokes, like a caricature in a tabloid. The kind of portrait they dig up for anyone who’s done wrong—a mugshot chosen to look as unhinged as possible. For years, I accepted that image of Harry without question, almost as if he himself were shouting “Levels you devils!” in my ear.

Then, I met someone who actually knew him, someone who shared a different story. They described Harry as a warm-hearted, generous soul, a man who’d help you place a bet, who genuinely cared about people. Suddenly, my perception shifted. Reading Gambling for Life, I found myself warming to him. The book peeled away the media’s shallow sound bites, revealing a man far more complex and real.

The racing media often churns out these clichés, and maybe people play into them. It’s like Rustie Lee on TV—she can’t seem to bake a cake without laughing every ten seconds, as if that’s what people expect. We get the same formula over and over—the Frenchman with his onions, the loud gambler, the TV chef’s infectious laugh.

In the end, maybe the best wisdom is, “Take people as you find them.” We’re all layered, complex, and often more than what the world sees or assumes. The celebrity image is often a crafted persona—one that’s shaped by the roles they play for us, or maybe by the expectations they feel obliged to meet. But beyond all that, we are a spectrum, a blend of light and shadow.

Perception is simply the mind’s way of making sense of things, a mirror of our own beliefs and biases. All we can do is meet each person with open eyes and take them as we find them. Until then, we’re left with only our perceptions