Maybe it was a character flaw, or just a nuance. Even as a kid I often rooted for the bad guy. Cops and robbers, I wanted to see the robbers get away. Nothing like a good caper. As such, I’m probably as familiar with most of the famous racing scandals, and even a few that nobody ever talked about. The Milkman is a “sweet story” or at least was while it lasted.
Keeping Them Sweet
When you think about horse racing scandals, you might picture a crooked photo finish or a suspiciously late scratch. But Brian Brendan Wright, the Irish-born gambler nicknamed “The Milkman — because he always delivered,” took corruption to a level that reads more like a crime thriller than a sporting footnote.
A lifelong gambler who lived large on the fringes of British high society and tougher edges of the underworld, Wright wasn’t just a bettor. He was a better bettor! He was at the center of a sprawling operation that blended drug trafficking, race-fixing, bribery, inside information and cash-heavy betting coups — all designed to conceal the real source of his wealth and to ensure his wagers almost always came up black.
From Borstal to Billion-Pound Empire
Born around 1947 and raised in Kilburn, northwest London, Wright was sent to Borstal (what we’d call reform school) in his youth — the first of many brushes with the law. Over the next decades he built an empire that British authorities later estimated to be worth hundreds of millions of pounds through one of the most successful cocaine smuggling operations ever to target the UK, importing massive consignments via yachts and offshore routes.
Despite that notoriety, in racing circles he was known as a warm, generous personality, hobnobbing with celebrities, owning horses and owning a box at Ascot, yes Royal Ascot. Comedian Jim Davidson was close enough to ask Wright to be godfather to his son; jockey-turned-trainer Mick Channon even vouched for him in court. But behind the camaraderie was a calculating schemer. Wright used his dirty money to bribe jockeys, procure insider information and arrange for horses to be doped. These weren’t casual tips slipped at the bar — investigations later uncovered that his network had corrupted jockeys like Graham Bradley, using lavish entertainment and rewards to keep the information flowing.
The Racing Organization and Inside Information
According to findings by the Jockey Club’s disciplinary panel — a separate inquiry from his later criminal conviction — Wright ran what was dubbed The Racing Organization, a betting syndicate that placed huge wagers with the benefit of inside knowledge sourced from jockeys and other racing insiders. In many races, horses owned by Wright were entered in the names of others who had no real stake, all to mask schemes and manipulate outcomes. His son, Brian Anthony Wright — part of the operation — routinely obtained privileged information and placed unlicensed bets on behalf of the syndicate. The organization entertained jockeys on lavish sprees that ran into four figures to keep them “sweet,” according to the inquiry.
Conviction, Sentence, and Ban
In 2007, after an 11-year investigation, (what investigation takes 11 years!) Wright was convicted at Woolwich Crown Court for conspiracy to import and supply drugs, and sentenced to 30 years in prison — a fate his own lawyer acknowledged might extend to the end of his life behind bars. Though the race-fixing dimensions were addressed in earlier disciplinary actions rather than this criminal trial, the legacy remained unmistakable: Wright was banned from British racing for life, excluded from racecourses and licensed premises even after his release on licence in 2020. Some say he was betting through a beard even from prison.
How He Was Seen By Those Around Him
To outsiders and celebrity friends, Wright was generous, charismatic — a gambler who took risks, told tall tales, and lived fast. To law enforcement and racing regulators, he was masterful, manipulative and deeply embedded in corruption. One customs investigator later recalled that Wright once scoffed that he’d “bet my £1m to your £1 coin” that he would never be prosecuted — a statement emblematic of his audacity. That audacity was ultimately his undoing. It often is.
Scandals in Horse Racing: A Larger Context
Trust Us and Bet, It’s an Honest Game
Flockton Grey Ringer Scandal (1982): Another British case saw a three-year-old illegally substituted for a two-year-old to cheat the betting market, winning by an absurd margin before the deception was uncovered.
The Fine Cotton Affair (1984): Perhaps the most “inept” scandal in history. An Australian syndicate tried to swap the mediocre horse Fine Cotton for a faster one named Bold Personality. Because the horses didn’t look alike, they tried to dye the substitute’s hair; when that failed, they used white paint to mimic markings. The paint began to run during the race, and the fraud was immediately discovered.
The Running Rein Scandal (1844): One of the oldest major scandals. The winner of the Epsom Derby, Running Rein, was discovered to be a four-year-old horse named Maccabaeus. Since the Derby is strictly for three-year-olds, the older, stronger horse had an unfair advantage.
The Gay Future “Cartmel” Coup (1974): An Irish syndicate sent a “lookalike” horse to the trainer’s yard to fool observers into thinking Gay Future was a poor runner. On race day, they swapped in the real, high-quality Gay Future. To ensure the win, they entered two other horses in different races and withdrew them at the last second to trigger a “multiple bet” payout that cost bookmakers a fortune.
The 2002 Breeders’ Cup “Ultra Pick 6” Heist: A computer programmer named Chris Harn, who worked for the wagering technology company Autotote, exploited a software glitch. He was able to change his bets after the first four races had already been run. He and two friends nearly walked away with $3.1 million before the suspicious nature of the winning ticket (having the only winner in a series of long shots) triggered an investigation. If anyone but Volponi wins that race we might never have known. He was the only single winner as I recall.
The Trodmore Hunt Scandal (1898): A man named George Sage invented an entire race meeting that never happened. He sent fake results for the “Trodmore Hunt” to a major sporting newspaper. Since there was no internet, bookmakers across London paid out bets on horses that didn’t exist in a race that never took place. Anyone see The Sting?
The Godolphin Anabolic Steroid Scandal (2013): One of the world’s most powerful and prestigious racing stables, Godolphin, was rocked when 11 horses trained by Mahmood Al Zarooni tested positive for anabolic steroids. Al Zarooni was banned for eight years, a massive blow to the reputation of the sport’s elite.
The 2020 Federal Doping Raid: In a massive FBI sweep, 27 people—including top trainers Jorge Navarro and Jason Servis—were indicted for a widespread, “systemic” scheme to use performance-enhancing drugs that were designed to evade testing. This included Maximum Security in the Kentucky Derby.
The Abduction of Shergar (1983): Shergar was one of the greatest racehorses in history. In 1983, he was kidnapped from his stable in Ireland by masked gunmen, believed to be members of the IRA. A ransom was demanded, but negotiations failed; the horse was never seen again and his body was never found.
The 1960s Doping Gang: Led by a man named Bill Roper, a London-based gang used “dope” (sedatives) to “nobble” (slow down) favorites so that their own bets on long shots would pay out. They successfully manipulated dozens of races before Scotland Yard finally took them down.
The Con Errico “Trifecta” Fix (1970s)
Con Errico was a retired jockey who used his stature and connections to become the middleman between the Mafia and active riders.
The Systemic Fix: Throughout 1974 and 1975, Errico orchestrated a scheme to fix “Trifecta” races (where bettors must pick the top three finishers in order). He bribed jockeys to “hold” or “pull” their horses—essentially making sure the favorites finished out of the money—allowing a gambling syndicate to cash in on high-paying longshot combinations.
The “Mafia” Connection: Errico was the lynchpin for organized crime figures, including Anthony “Tony Blue” Ciulla. When jockeys were hesitant to take bribes, Errico reportedly used threats of “Mafia retribution” to ensure their cooperation.
The Mystery of Michael Hole: The scandal is also remembered for the tragic and mysterious death of jockey Michael Hole. After reportedly being offered a bribe and refusing it, Hole was found dead in his car from carbon monoxide poisoning. While ruled a suicide, many in the racing world at the time suspected he had been silenced for what he knew. Hole reported the bribe to NYRA stewards who were said to be investigating when he was found dead.
The Fallout: The scandal broke open when jockey Jose Amy became a government witness. His testimony led to Errico being sentenced to 10 years in prison in 1980. The investigation cast a shadow over some of the biggest names in the sport, including Hall of Famer Angel Cordero Jr. and Jacinto Vasquez, who faced suspensions or intense scrutiny. My personal favorite moment in that scandal was when Jorge Velasquez testified with a straight face that he’d never even heard the expression “pull a horse.” Ah so! Salut Jorge, well played! If you know you know, anyway:
I wrote a detailed account of this one, much of which took place at our beloved Saratoga, and you might find it fascinating. Cheating and Race Fixing in Horse Racing.
You can also hear some first hand talk about this one Right Here:
Anything For an Edge
These episodes, like Wright’s schemes and the careers of jockeys caught up in inside-information exchanges, illustrate how the sport’s wagering infrastructure continually attracts those who would exploit loopholes in pursuit of profit.
The Legacy of The Milkman
In racing lore, Brian Wright’s name is a cautionary tale — a reminder of what happens when gambling, big money and weak oversight collide. Charm and celebrity don’t inoculate against corruption. And in a sport where integrity is the very foundation of trust — for bettors, owners, trainers and jockeys alike — few scandals have been as sprawling, as brazen, or as memorable as the story of the Milkman who always delivered… until he didn’t.
HISTORY REPEATS: FROM THE MILKMAN TO MODERN RACING
You have to keep high standards. Strive for more in all aspects of what you do. I was never impressed by the guy who took the prettiest girl home from the club, anybody could do that. Now, the best two or three together, salut! I hit a pick 6 at Saratoga for over 500K on a $9600 ticket one day. I hit another there for 146K on a $72 ticket, which do you think I’m more proud of? Being one move ahead of everyone, sure better than the average Joe, but being five moves ahead of the competition is just cerebral and outplaying them. In a somewhat roundabout way, I will do my best to illustrate how The Milkman is similar to the CAW player in my opinion.
FROM THE MILKMAN TO THE MACHINE: WHY CAWs ARE THE MODERN VERSION OF THE SAME PROBLEM
Let’s get something straight before anyone gets defensive: CAW players are not criminals. But neither was Brian Wright — until the system finally decided he was. That’s the uncomfortable parallel racing refuses to confront. Brian Wright didn’t break the game by fixing races. He broke it by operating with advantages the public didn’t have, inside a wagering system that allowed it, benefited from it, and looked the other way because the money was good. Sound familiar?
The Common Thread: Unequal Information, Unequal Access
Wright’s edge came from:
- Inside information from jockeys
- Timing his bets when the market was most vulnerable
- Operating at scale
- Using intermediaries to mask activity
- Exploiting a system built on trust instead of enforcement
Replace “jockeys” with data feeds, replace “phone calls” with algorithms, and replace “cash bets” with batch wagering milliseconds before the bell, and the model hasn’t changed — only the tools have.
The issue was never who was betting. It was how and under what rules.
CAWs Are Playing a Different Game — By Design
Modern CAWs don’t need a crooked rider or a doped horse. They don’t need to “fix” anything. Their advantage comes from:
- Superior data
- Superior technology
- Superior speed
- Preferential access
- Different effective takeout through rebates
That’s not opinion — that’s structure.
Just like Wright, they don’t beat the game because they’re smarter horseplayers. They beat the game because they’re not playing the same game as the retail bettor.
And racing’s response is eerily familiar:
“They provide liquidity.”
“They stabilize pools.”
“They’re good for handle.”
Those are the same justifications every compromised system uses — until confidence collapses.
History’s Warning Label
The Wright scandal didn’t explode because someone woke up one morning with integrity. It happened because:
- The imbalance got too large
- The visibility got too high
- And the public trust finally cracked
Racing didn’t ask hard questions early. It asked them when it was already embarrassing. Is that not where we are now with CAW’s?
Today, we’re once again told:
- Late odds drops are normal
- Retail bettors shouldn’t worry about things they don’t understand
- Transparency selectively
That mindset is exactly how the Milkman thrived.
This Is the Line Racing Keeps Missing
You don’t need corruption for a system to be unfair. You only need persistent asymmetry. Wright’s advantage was who he knew.
CAWs’ advantage is what they know and when they know it.
Both rely on the same flaw:
👉 a wagering ecosystem where some players are governed by different rules than others.
That doesn’t have to mean ban them. Especially if the cold hard truth is we need the money.
It means regulate them fairly for all.
The Lesson Racing Ignores at Its Own Risk
Brian Wright didn’t destroy confidence overnight. He eroded it quietly, efficiently, and profitably — until the bill came due. CAWs haven’t destroyed racing. But every unexplained odds plunge, every last-flash hammer, every “trust us” response chips away at the same foundation. Racing doesn’t need another scandal to learn this lesson. It already paid for it. The question is whether it learns before history delivers the sequel — or whether, once again, everyone pretends they never saw it coming. Because when the game stops feeling level, people stop playing, and they already are. When that happens, no amount of handle from a handful of whales will replace the confidence of the many.
That’s not anti-technology. That’s pro-survival. And it’s a lesson the Milkman taught us the hard way.
“If you ain’t cheating you ain’t trying.” Joe Montana
