Teach
03-25-2015, 08:16 PM
Hawkins Hoss. Adios Butler. Zither. Cams Fella. Dream High. Overtrick. Ivan Chief. Charmax. Su Mac Lad. Riyahd. Crux.
The above are just a sample of some of my favorite harness (standardbreds) horses that I’ve either bet on and/or watched over these past many decades. Each one, in their own way, brought excitement into my life. Yes, I had seen these horses at various venues: Foxboro Raceway, Rockingham Park, Suffolk Downs (they used to run a one-month fall met), Roosevelt Raceway, Yonkers Raceway, Freehold Raceway and The Meadowlands.
Yet, there’s one horse that will always stand out. Everyone remembers their first big hit.
It was the spring of 1964. In a month or two I would be graduating from college. Soon, I’d begin my teaching career. I was even able to buy my own car, a 1952 Dodge coupe. Life was good.
On either Friday or Saturday evenings (sometimes both) my friends and I would pile into an available car and make the trip from Boston to either Foxboro Raceway (summers) or Rockingham Park (spring or fall).
Well, on this occasion, it was my turn to drive. On an April evening five of my friends piled into my car and we headed north for Salem, New Hampshire (just over the MA line). As usual we arrived with high hopes. Sometimes those hopes were realized; other times they were dashed.
As I think back, shortly after we arrived at Rockingham, we were picked up by one of many trams that would take patrons from the spacious parking lot directly to the front gate.
When my friends and I arrived, we found seats in the grandstand. We began poring over the past perfomances. One of the gimmicks I would occasionally play was an exotic in which you needed to pick two back-to-back daily doubles. If you hit the first half, you then got to exchange that winning pick(s) for another ticket in which you would make another “daily double” pick. Four races in all were involved.
That night, I went partners with a friend of mine. We had two tickets after the first half of the “Twin Double”. We subsequently exchanged our two winning first-half tickets for two tries in the second half.
As it turns out, we both like the first horse on our exchange ticket but differed on the second and concluding horse. I recall from friend liked the #3 horse. I liked #7 horse.
Well, we hit the first leg of the second half. All we needed now was one more. We then saw the payoffs on the infield tote. Our #3 horse was paying close to $60 for $2; yet, the 7-horse, a longshot, was paying $400.
As the race unfolded, the #7 horse charged out for the lead from his outside post. It was a lead he would never relinquish. We were ecstatic. $200 a piece. Possibly, today, nobody would get excited over that number, but for relatively poor Boston city-kids this was a huge payoff.
Per usual when one of the guys in our group made "a hit," it was “treat time”. I bought my friends whatever they wanted at the snack bar: hot dogs, hamburgers, sodas… You get the picture.
As we drove back to Boston after the races that night we relived our thrilling win. It was a moment to savor. Oh, the name of the horse. A name I shall never forget: Necy II.
The above are just a sample of some of my favorite harness (standardbreds) horses that I’ve either bet on and/or watched over these past many decades. Each one, in their own way, brought excitement into my life. Yes, I had seen these horses at various venues: Foxboro Raceway, Rockingham Park, Suffolk Downs (they used to run a one-month fall met), Roosevelt Raceway, Yonkers Raceway, Freehold Raceway and The Meadowlands.
Yet, there’s one horse that will always stand out. Everyone remembers their first big hit.
It was the spring of 1964. In a month or two I would be graduating from college. Soon, I’d begin my teaching career. I was even able to buy my own car, a 1952 Dodge coupe. Life was good.
On either Friday or Saturday evenings (sometimes both) my friends and I would pile into an available car and make the trip from Boston to either Foxboro Raceway (summers) or Rockingham Park (spring or fall).
Well, on this occasion, it was my turn to drive. On an April evening five of my friends piled into my car and we headed north for Salem, New Hampshire (just over the MA line). As usual we arrived with high hopes. Sometimes those hopes were realized; other times they were dashed.
As I think back, shortly after we arrived at Rockingham, we were picked up by one of many trams that would take patrons from the spacious parking lot directly to the front gate.
When my friends and I arrived, we found seats in the grandstand. We began poring over the past perfomances. One of the gimmicks I would occasionally play was an exotic in which you needed to pick two back-to-back daily doubles. If you hit the first half, you then got to exchange that winning pick(s) for another ticket in which you would make another “daily double” pick. Four races in all were involved.
That night, I went partners with a friend of mine. We had two tickets after the first half of the “Twin Double”. We subsequently exchanged our two winning first-half tickets for two tries in the second half.
As it turns out, we both like the first horse on our exchange ticket but differed on the second and concluding horse. I recall from friend liked the #3 horse. I liked #7 horse.
Well, we hit the first leg of the second half. All we needed now was one more. We then saw the payoffs on the infield tote. Our #3 horse was paying close to $60 for $2; yet, the 7-horse, a longshot, was paying $400.
As the race unfolded, the #7 horse charged out for the lead from his outside post. It was a lead he would never relinquish. We were ecstatic. $200 a piece. Possibly, today, nobody would get excited over that number, but for relatively poor Boston city-kids this was a huge payoff.
Per usual when one of the guys in our group made "a hit," it was “treat time”. I bought my friends whatever they wanted at the snack bar: hot dogs, hamburgers, sodas… You get the picture.
As we drove back to Boston after the races that night we relived our thrilling win. It was a moment to savor. Oh, the name of the horse. A name I shall never forget: Necy II.