Usually this is the place to find me whining on about poker.

But today I caught the worst beat I've ever had away from the poker table...so I thought I'd share my misery with you.

Like most poker players, I'm an instinctive risk taker. A gambler, if you like.

Some of the collegues at my day job know this.  

On Friday evening I was working late, as usual, when a work colleague who also likes a flutter told me he 'quite fancied' Australian Andrew Dodt to win the Welsh Open, which was at the halfway stage at the time.

I checked and he was available at a generous 10-1. I wasn't convinced. He had won on tour, but not outside Asia and the Celtic Manor is a tricky course that favours experienced pros. I scanned the leaderboard and liked the look of Graeme McDowell who, at six shots off the lead and priced at 40-1 seemed out of contention...but I just had a feeling.

On arriving home, I heard a fascinating piece on the radio about a horse called At First Sight, whom British scientists had calculated had an excellent chance of winning the Derby the following day, despite his ludicrous 200-1 odds.

Intruiged and looking forward to a weekend of great sport on TV, I decided to have a small bet - an each-way double:The Welsh Open and the Derby.

For some reason, known only to my inner brain, I abandoned my hunch on Graeme McDowell and put £5 each-way on Dobt and At First Sight.

I could have put £2.50 each way on that bet and also had the same bet with McDowell for the same cost and spread my chances...but I didn't.

You know what happened next.

At First Sight ran like he was being chased out of hell itself. The pacemaker led the Group 1 Derby from the start and was only pipped at the post by the magnificent Workforce. His second place paid out at 50-1 on the each-way.

I was poised to pocket a fortune. All I needed was the Australian to hold his nerve.

But, as we know, while Australian cricketers have ice in their veins, their golfers prefer jelly. 

Graeme McDowell won the Welsh Open by three shots, finishing at 15 under par. Andrew Dobt finished in 39th place, 17 shots behind.

Had I put my £10 bet on McDowell, as I intended, I would have won £10,005.

But I didn't. I let some bloke at work who today texted to admit 'he knows nothing about golf' talk me out of it.

I may just be a tenner down, but it feels like 10 grand.

But I have learned an important lesson, for life, for betting and for poker:

You have instincts. Use them.