Harry Findlay: Tempting Fate and the Costly Folly of the Rugby Clock

Image Source: Freepik

Time waits for no man.

Not even Harry Findlay. 

Few names in the gambling world stir up as much fascination and controversy as Harry Findlay, the legendary professional punter who once declared there was value betting odds-on and has lived his life with a devil-may-care boldness that has made him both revered and reviled. Known for staking jaw-dropping sums on horse racing, tennis, and rugby, Findlay's story is one of dramatic highs and crushing lows. But of all his memorable gambles, one tale sticks out for its strange symbolism and sense of destiny gone awry — his monumental loss on a rugby match, which he himself linked, with half-serious conviction, to the purchase of a clock shaped like a rugby ball.

This wasn’t just a loss. This was a life-altering financial hit. Findlay staked everything on New Zealand — the mighty All Blacks — winning the 2007 Rugby World Cup. He saw it as a sure thing. The All Blacks were dominant, fit, and in form. Findlay, ever the audacious gambler, wagered around £2 million on their victory — spread over various bets. He had no hedges, no cover, and no plan B. This was full commitment, a belief not just in rugby logic, but in sporting destiny.

But destiny had other plans.

In the quarter-final, the All Blacks crashed out of the tournament at the hands of France, losing 20-18 in one of the most shocking upsets in Rugby World Cup history. For most fans, it was a huge surprise. For Harry Findlay, it was a financial and emotional apocalypse.

What’s remarkable about this story isn’t just the size of the loss or the shock of the defeat. It’s what Findlay himself pointed to as the moment he “tempted fate” — the moment he believes the gods of chance began sharpening their knives. In the weeks leading up to the tournament, he purchased a clock in the shape of a rugby ball, part of a goodie bag for those he invited to watch the match. To the uninitiated, this might seem trivial, even charming — a fan's whim, a quirky decoration.

But for Findlay, the symbolism was deadly serious. That rugby-shaped clock became an omen. In his autobiography and interviews since, Findlay has reflected on how the purchase went against his deeply rooted superstition and gambling instincts. He had always believed in respecting luck, never counting winnings before they arrived, and certainly never celebrating a result before the final whistle.

Buying the clock wasn’t just a decorative decision — it was a premature celebration, a totem of assumed victory. It was as if, buying those innocent looking clocks, he declared the tournament over before it had even begun. He had made a symbolic bet — one that showed overconfidence, arrogance even — and in the world of high-stakes gambling, that’s often when fate strikes hardest.

In a way, the clocks became a monument to hubris. It was no longer about rugby tactics or form. It was about belief systems, gambling psychology, and the delicate line between confidence and recklessness. The story has taken on near-mythic proportions in betting circles. It’s the kind of tale that gets passed around as a cautionary parable, where the small act — buying a novelty clock — foreshadows a fall of epic proportions.

For Findlay, the financial damage was enormous, but it was the emotional and philosophical hit that lingered. The rugby ball shaped clock became a symbol not just of one bad bet, but of what happens when a gambler loses sight of the forces they once respected. It was a reminder that luck, form, and fate are not to be taken for granted — and that the moment you start believing in guaranteed outcomes is the moment you're most vulnerable.

Since then, Findlay has remained active in the betting world, never quite losing his love for the thrill. But the rugby clock incident remains a touchstone in his life — the day he tempted fate and paid the price. It’s a story that’s as much about belief, superstition, and psychological fragility as it is about rugby or betting.

As for the clock itself? Perhaps he smashed it. Whether in anger, shame, or an attempt to reverse the jinx, it no longer ticks. But the memory of that ticking time bomb of fate — and what it cost him — lives on in the lore of one of Britain’s boldest gamblers. 

What made the story even more ironic was the fact that horse trainer Paul Nicholls famously went back to the room to get the rugby clock!

Perhaps he is the only one who didn't lose his shirt.

Photo: Freepik