Gambling and the Sport of Kings
GAMBLING AND THE SPORT OF KINGS
By Hennie Heymans
Précis of “Gambling and the Sport of Kings”
Hennie Heymans, a former policeman with the District Raiding Squad at SAP Wentworth, recounts his experiences at Clairwood Race Course in apartheid-era South Africa, where he performed duties during horse racing events. Stationed in the Silver Circle, he observed the grandeur of the races, the diverse crowds, and the curious practice of Indian patrons betting on his police number. Despite his Dutch Reformed Church upbringing, which frowned upon gambling, Heymans enjoyed the spectacle of the horses but noted the irony of police arresting players of Crown & Anchor, a dice game, for illegal gambling at the racecourse. While horse racing was a regulated, socially accepted activity, Crown & Anchor was deemed an illicit game of chance, leading to arrests and confiscations. The article reflects on the cultural and legal distinctions between the prestigious “Sport of Kings” and stigmatized informal gambling, questioning the fine line between skill and chance.
Gambling and the Sport of Kings
In my younger days, I served as a member of the District Raiding Squad at SAP Wentworth. On Wednesdays and Saturdays, if horse racing took place at Clairwood Race Course, we were assigned police duties, dressed in full winter uniforms. Whenever our presence was required, an announcement would echo through the course: “Would Mr. SA Perry please call at the information kiosk.” It was all rather grand.
Sergeant De Witt patrolled the Golden Circle, while I was stationed in the Silver Circle. Our Black colleagues worked in the areas where Black patrons placed their bets. Many Indian racegoers would approach me, jotting down my police number (21607) displayed on my chest to use as a betting number—a curious ritual I never fully understood.
Each officer received a meal voucher, redeemable for a hearty lunch, which was a highlight of the day. Though I wasn’t a bettor myself, I was captivated by the spectacle of the racehorses—watching them before, during, and after the races was a thrill in itself.
As an Afrikaner and a member of the Dutch Reformed Church, gambling was frowned upon in my community. Yet, I found it ironic that while horse racing flourished openly, my colleagues frequently arrested individuals at the races for illegal gambling. Their crime? Playing Crown & Anchor, a dice game. The players’ boards and money were seized as evidence, and they were charged with gambling.
It struck me as odd that Crown & Anchor was deemed a game of chance, while horse racing—the Sport of Kings—was considered a game of skill. Could the distinction be so clear-cut?
A Legal Perspective on Gambling at Clairwood Race Course
Précis of Legal Principles in “A Legal Perspective on Gambling at Clairwood Race Course”
The legal opinion explains why Crown & Anchor was targeted as illegal gambling at Clairwood Race Course, while horse racing was permitted in apartheid-era South Africa. Under laws like the Gambling Act of 1965, horse racing was regulated as a skill-based activity, involving analysis of horse form and track conditions, and was facilitated by licensed bookmakers and the totalisator system, lending it legal and cultural legitimacy. In contrast, Crown & Anchor, a dice game reliant on random outcomes, was classified as a game of pure chance and prohibited outside licensed venues due to its unregulated nature and association with illicit activities. Police enforced these laws by arresting players and seizing their equipment. The distinction reflects both legal definitions of skill versus chance and societal values that elevated horse racing’s prestige while stigmatizing informal gambling.
A Legal Perspective on Gambling at Clairwood Race Course
As a young policeman I witnessed a curious contradiction: horse racing thrived as a celebrated, state-sanctioned activity, while players of Crown & Anchor faced arrests for illegal gambling. Why was one form of betting permitted and the other outlawed? My father, Sgt AF Heymans, told me the answer lies in South Africa’s gambling laws and the legal distinction between games of chance and activities involving skill.
During the apartheid era, gambling was tightly regulated under legislation such as the Gambling Act of 1965 and earlier provincial ordinances. These laws aimed to control betting, curb illicit activities, and generate revenue for the state. Horse racing, known as the Sport of Kings, was a cornerstone of this framework.
Racecourses like Clairwood operated under strict government oversight, with betting facilitated through licensed bookmakers or the totalisator system. This regulation ensured that horse racing was not only legal but also a socially accepted institution, viewed as a blend of sport and skill. Bettors could analyse a horse’s form, jockey performance, and track conditions, introducing an element of informed decision-making that distinguished horse racing from purely random games.
Crown & Anchor, by contrast, was a dice-based game of pure chance. Players wagered on the outcome of three dice, each marked with symbols like crowns, anchors, and suits. The results were entirely random, offering no opportunity for skill or strategy to influence the outcome. Under South African law, such unregulated games were prohibited outside licensed venues. Crown & Anchor, often played informally at racecourses or in social settings, was seen as a potential source of exploitation and disorder. Police, like my colleagues at Clairwood, targeted these games to enforce gambling laws, confiscating boards and money as evidence and charging players with illegal betting.
The legal distinction between horse racing and Crown & Anchor hinged on the interplay of skill and chance. Courts and lawmakers recognized that horse racing involved a degree of skill—through analysis and strategic betting—making it eligible for regulation rather than prohibition. Crown & Anchor, lacking any skill component, was classified as an illicit game of chance, subject to strict enforcement. This explains why my colleagues arrested Crown & Anchor players in the shadow of a racecourse where betting was the main attraction.
Yet, the line between skill and chance was not always clear-cut. Horse racing, while skill-influenced, still depended on unpredictable factors like a horse’s performance or track incidents. The legal system’s acceptance of horse racing as a “skill-based” activity reflected not only its regulated status but also its cultural prestige, which set it apart from the stigma attached to games like Crown & Anchor. As a young Afrikaner policeman, raised to view gambling with suspicion, I found this contrast both striking and thought-provoking—a reminder that law often mirrors society’s values as much as it shapes them.
