Teach
01-09-2016, 08:00 AM
I'll be back with my Hialeah "quarters" picks. But, for now, a racing tale from the past.
The 10% Tale: Going To “The Dogs”
“I just wanted to give him the thrill of cashing a big ticket,” the guy said pleadingly to the cop. It was the early 1990s. Raynham-Taunton Greyhound Park. Broadway Street. Route #138. Raynham, MA. I was then working as a state judge. No, not the one with robes; I had been appointed by the MA state racing commissioner. My job: to walk behind “the lead-outs” (the track employees who brought the dogs, in numerical order, out onto the track). I was the one who made sure there was no hanky-panky, especially when they loaded the greyhounds into the starting box. I received $45 per card to do this menial task. Hey, it was better than working in a library.
Well, after one particular race, I was again, per usual, returning to the kennel area. I needed to walk through the grandstand. As I was about to enter the grandstand, I looked over my shoulder at the infield tote. Telephone numbers! It was “Christmas in July”. Every one of the three dogs that hit the board paid well. Very well. I kept thinking as I was about to walk by the mutual windows, “Somebody got lucky!” It was then that I became a fly on the wall as I watched a familiar (usually occurring whenever there’s a big hit), yet secretive, race track transaction take place.
Well, what I saw – as I stopped to watch – was this middle-aged man – I’ll call him: “The Man in the Straw Hat” (I’ve been watching too much “Curious George” with my grandchildren) -- talking with someone just before he began to head for the windows to cash what I believed was a big ticket. The discussion, although I was too far away to actually hear it, had 10% written all over it. What I observed is this man in the straw hat – the man who made the hit – give his ticket to a “Ten-percenter”.
Well, I see the “Ten-percenter” inching his way toward the mutual clerk for the big payout and the “form-signing” that goes along with it whenever someone cashes “a tax ticket”. By the way, the ticket-winner himself is standing only a few feet away watching the whole thing unfold. He’s about to “pounce” on the ticket-casher to gets his winnings, sans the 10% “commission”.
Just as “The Ten-Percenter” is about to reach the mutual windows, another man – he’s most certainly an accomplice – briefly, almost fleetingly – brushes past the man who’s just about to cash the ticket. It was something, in hindsight, that you would have wanted to watch on instant replay. It happened that fast. That smoothly.
Just then, I see an argument erupt. People are talking in load voices. “Where’s the ticket?” the man in the straw hat calls out. Something about, “I musta dropped it,” the “ten-percenter” says. I then see people looking about on the floor. Picking up tickets. No ticket. At least not the winning ticket. The man in the straw hat’s friend gets a cop to come over.
Meanwhile, the “ten-percenter” is still standing there. His accomplice, the man he gave the ticket to is nowhere in sight. The “straw hat” guy tells the cop his tale of woe. I remember him saying to the “Ten-Percenter” something like, “You’re not going to get away with this! You don’t mess with me,“ he added. Then, he tells the cop that “He just wanted to give this guy the thrill of cashing a big ticket.”
Well, what’s the cop going to do? He listens, but he’s in no position to make a decision. To arrest anyone. The “Ten Percenter” claims that on the way to the windows he lost the ticket. The ticket purchaser, the man in the “straw hat” says the guy swindled him out of the ticket. Whom you believe?
Well, I had to go. The “lead-outs” were about to bring the dogs out onto the track; I had to be sure that I was bringing up the rear. In hindsight, there’s a lesson here. One that I hope none of us ever repeats.
The 10% Tale: Going To “The Dogs”
“I just wanted to give him the thrill of cashing a big ticket,” the guy said pleadingly to the cop. It was the early 1990s. Raynham-Taunton Greyhound Park. Broadway Street. Route #138. Raynham, MA. I was then working as a state judge. No, not the one with robes; I had been appointed by the MA state racing commissioner. My job: to walk behind “the lead-outs” (the track employees who brought the dogs, in numerical order, out onto the track). I was the one who made sure there was no hanky-panky, especially when they loaded the greyhounds into the starting box. I received $45 per card to do this menial task. Hey, it was better than working in a library.
Well, after one particular race, I was again, per usual, returning to the kennel area. I needed to walk through the grandstand. As I was about to enter the grandstand, I looked over my shoulder at the infield tote. Telephone numbers! It was “Christmas in July”. Every one of the three dogs that hit the board paid well. Very well. I kept thinking as I was about to walk by the mutual windows, “Somebody got lucky!” It was then that I became a fly on the wall as I watched a familiar (usually occurring whenever there’s a big hit), yet secretive, race track transaction take place.
Well, what I saw – as I stopped to watch – was this middle-aged man – I’ll call him: “The Man in the Straw Hat” (I’ve been watching too much “Curious George” with my grandchildren) -- talking with someone just before he began to head for the windows to cash what I believed was a big ticket. The discussion, although I was too far away to actually hear it, had 10% written all over it. What I observed is this man in the straw hat – the man who made the hit – give his ticket to a “Ten-percenter”.
Well, I see the “Ten-percenter” inching his way toward the mutual clerk for the big payout and the “form-signing” that goes along with it whenever someone cashes “a tax ticket”. By the way, the ticket-winner himself is standing only a few feet away watching the whole thing unfold. He’s about to “pounce” on the ticket-casher to gets his winnings, sans the 10% “commission”.
Just as “The Ten-Percenter” is about to reach the mutual windows, another man – he’s most certainly an accomplice – briefly, almost fleetingly – brushes past the man who’s just about to cash the ticket. It was something, in hindsight, that you would have wanted to watch on instant replay. It happened that fast. That smoothly.
Just then, I see an argument erupt. People are talking in load voices. “Where’s the ticket?” the man in the straw hat calls out. Something about, “I musta dropped it,” the “ten-percenter” says. I then see people looking about on the floor. Picking up tickets. No ticket. At least not the winning ticket. The man in the straw hat’s friend gets a cop to come over.
Meanwhile, the “ten-percenter” is still standing there. His accomplice, the man he gave the ticket to is nowhere in sight. The “straw hat” guy tells the cop his tale of woe. I remember him saying to the “Ten-Percenter” something like, “You’re not going to get away with this! You don’t mess with me,“ he added. Then, he tells the cop that “He just wanted to give this guy the thrill of cashing a big ticket.”
Well, what’s the cop going to do? He listens, but he’s in no position to make a decision. To arrest anyone. The “Ten Percenter” claims that on the way to the windows he lost the ticket. The ticket purchaser, the man in the “straw hat” says the guy swindled him out of the ticket. Whom you believe?
Well, I had to go. The “lead-outs” were about to bring the dogs out onto the track; I had to be sure that I was bringing up the rear. In hindsight, there’s a lesson here. One that I hope none of us ever repeats.