Ever see any horror stories at the track?

[Valuist]

I'm not talking about an unjust DQ, or your 15-1 losing a 3 way photo. I'm talking about the stories the non-racing/anti-gambling public believes are commonplace. In over 20 years I've seen two instances, and both guys had some similar traits. Guy one was an attorney and a pretty sharp bettor. I know he hit a pretty big Pic 6 six score back in the early 90s. Then one day, greed completely took over. His big bets before were $200, now he started to bet $2000 and even $5000. He started stealing money from his clients escrow accounts and ended up getting dis-barred and going to jail. The other guy I know who went thru this was also pretty intelligent but extremely arrogant. He believed he knew all the answers. He was in sales and he'd tell everyone about his Jaguar. Around the mid 90s, when full card simulcasting started, he started going downhill. He was betting every track and losing and started borrowing from all his friends at the track. He stopped paying his mortgage and lost his house. He was homeless....living out of his Jaguar. He finally ended up in GA although a couple people I know say they've seen him at the track with a hat and sunglasses on, trying to avoid the people that he owes money to. The moral: always respect the gambling gods. Arrogarnce will be punished.

[Zman179]

I have two stories.

One time I was on a super hot streak (lasting many months) and went to Belmont Park on a weekday afternoon. This man decides to sit right next to me without saying a word and goes to sleep (snoring too). Mind you that the track only had about 4,000 people in it and I was cursing him out (in my mind of course). Would you believe that the guy wound up dropping dead right next to me?
Needless to say my luck streak died along with him.


Second story happened to an acquaintance (I SWEAR to The Almighty that this is true).

This acquaintance was a HARDCORE gambler. He was nicknamed "The Flipper" because he would take his spare change and flip people heads or tails in the OTB to try to scrounge up a deuce for a bet. Didn't have a pot to piss in (cause he gambled it) and would sleep on the Staten Island Ferry at nighttime or in a shelter.
Anyway, one day he's in the OTB with $6 and plays it at Aqueduct (the only day track that they took at the time) and hits for about $100. He then finds a 35/1 shot in the next race, takes $80 out of the $100 that he has, and puts it to win on the 35/1. It hits! After the 9th race at Aqu, he has a little more than $3,000. He says: "There's no more action until tonight, let's go to Atlantic City".
He goes to AC and is on a tear. Craps, blackjack, roulette, you name it, he wins at it. After about five or six days of gambling, he's up to almost $40,000. He then says: "Ah, this is getting boring. Let's go to Las Vegas!!!" Goes straight to the AC airport with his friend and heads out west.
Out in Vegas, he's still on a roll for about a week. Gets what was originally $6 up to over $110,000 in cold, hard cash!!! But now, the luck's starting to fade slowly but surely. After about another 3 weeks (mostly at the same casino which has been comping him up the wazoo), he loses it all. Dead broke. Only pocket change is left.
One of the top managers in the casino invites "The Flipper" into his office. The manager says: "We've been watching you closely over the past month, and while we are terribly sorry that you wound up losing, we would like you to know that we really appreciated your business. So this is what we would like to do for you: Go into our Armani store and pick out any suit that you like, a sweater, some pants, shoes and socks "on the house". And, here's a check for $2,500. Please take these gifts with our sincere thanks, leave the casino and head back to New York with them, and we hope to see you at another time at our property in the future."
"The Flipper" proceeds to take the clothes and pawns them at the nearest pawnshop, cashes the check, and goes to a different casino. His luck comes back and runs it up to $80,000! Another chance at doing the right thing! But alas, after a couple of weeks, he's dead broke again...and this time with no favors afterwards.
Comes back to New York, flips for quarters in the OTB, and at night goes to sleep on the Staten Island Ferry just like before.
Tsk tsk.

[Valuist]

I've had cold streaks at the track before but that takes it to a whole new level. If you're going to die, might as well be at the track.

[Dan]

These are some really great stories.

;)

[JackS]

A true horror story a few years ago at Hol Park. Two guys were hitting big and bragging loudly about it. They were followed from the track and one was killed the other got away injured but with his life. Someting to keep in mind should you ever cash that big pick 5/6.

[JustRalph]

Originally posted by buddy_love
These are some really great stories. ;)

Yeah......really great? ;)

[Bubbles]

I just finished reading about one. In 1991, this guy, Bobby Unger, won some $70,000 in bets one afternoon. He was then shot dead in his Jag, the victim of a botched robbery.

In a bit of irony, the driver, a guy named Richard Sklar, was a convicted race-fixer. He was unharmed in the attack. Sklar always claimed to be in cahoots with Ron Hanson, a jockey who had long been suspected of fixing some races in his career. Whether those statements are true or false has yet to be determined.

[Jeff P]

I'll relate a story that began at Turf Paradise in 1985.

I had this buddy who had a knack for finding trouble. If it was around, he found it. Back then there was still a pick-6 at Turf Paradise. One Sunday afternoon, on a day with an 80 grand pick six carryover, my buddy had manages to strike up a conversation with a pair of guys sitting near us in the upper grandstand. After the fifth leg of the pick-6, one of them shows my buddy his pick-6 tickets. Sure enough, they have three live tickets between them, each with five out of five, going to a single horse, the three, in the last leg. I take a close look at the guy who handed my buddy the ticket. He's wearing a suit, built like a linebacker, and I see the handle of a revolver sticking out from his beltline, but still concealed beneath his jacket. He's obviously hired "muscle" for the other guy, an older more refined gentleman in his early fifties. I look him over. The first thing I notice is that he has a deep scar on his face. I see a rolex watch and enough gold jewelry to buy a couple of cars. But what struck me most was the look of utter confidence practically shining off his face. He looked literally as if he were on top of the world and knew it. My buddy hands the ticket back to the hired muscle and says, "Good Luck with the last race." Hired muscle replies, "His SOURCE," indicating his boss, "says the three is gonna win the last race. He's not gonna lose." There's no smile on his face. No hint of either nervousness or false confidence in his voice. He states it as if it's a pure matter of fact.

Well the three wins by at least five lengths, drawing off in the stretch effortlessly. They leave to go cash. When the announcement comes over the public address system, there are only three winning pick six tickets that day, each worth over 36 grand, and we know those two guys are the ones that have them.

So my buddy and I share this story between us. To this day we're both convinced that these two guys were very much "connected" and acting on inside information.

My buddy gets married (see, I TOLD you he had a knack for finding trouble) and over the years we kind lose track of each other after his wife gives him an ultimatum about going to the track all the time.

Then, during the live Turf Paradise meet about two years ago, I'm walking out to my truck at the end of the day. I drive a beat up old pickup, partly because I'm a cheap bastard, and partly because it still runs well and gets me around pretty reliably. But, parked a few sapces from my vehicle is a beat up old Ford Crown Vic, complete with a badly pitted vinyl top, faded peeling paint, dented fenders, bald tires, and three missing hubcaps. Seeing this actually caused me to smile. Somebody else was actually driving a more beat up piece of crap than I was. And as I stood there and marveled over this fact, I saw an old man sullenly shuffling up to it. He looked up just long enough for me to see the scar and recognize him. It was the same guy whose "source" had given him the winner of the last race of that pick-6 all those years ago. Gone was the jewelry and rolex watch I once saw. Gone was the swagger he once had. Now, he walked and carried himself as if he were the picture of misery and the weight of the world was upon his own shoulders.

He got in that old car, started it, and chugged away.

[Jeff P]

This is as close to disaster at the track as I've ever personally come and takes place in late February 1984 at Turf Paradise. Again, it involves a pick-6. And again, it happens on a Sunday.

My buddy comes over to the apartment about 10 in the morning. We drive to a 7-11 and pick up a Racing Form. We drive to a Denny's, sit down at a table, order breakfast, and start handicapping. I find a horse I think is a live longshot in the fourth leg of the pick-6, one of those 7.5 furlong claiming races on the turf. We're both pretty much in agreement on the first three races of the pick-6. I'm pretty sure that the 20-1 ML horse I picked out in the fourth leg has a shot, but we have widely varying opinions on the last two legs. He convinces me that we should both put up $48.00 and split a $96.00 pick-6 ticket. That way, we'd both have a better shot at hitting the thing.

So we eat breakfast and leave for the track. On the way out the door, he stops to call his girlfriend from the pay phone there to see if she'd like to join us. I can tell from his expression that she is giving him the business on the other end of the line. He ends up agreeing not to go to the track with me. He gives me the $48.00 and insists that I go to the track and buy the ticket anyway. He says his girlfriend is on her way to pick him up at the resturant.

So I go to the track by myself. Somehow, as post time nears for the first leg of the pick-6 the line I'm in doesn't seem to be moving. I look around. None of them are. The tote system is down and nobody can get a bet down.

The announcer says "Three minutes."

The lines aren't moving.

"Two minutes."

The lines still aren't moving.

"One minute."

People are getting antsy.

The lines aren't moving at all.

"It's post time."

Geniuses that they are, nobody tells the starters to wait. They load up the horses and the next thing you hear from the announcer is "They're off!"

Naturally, I get shut out. We would have hit the first three legs of the pick-6. So I'm sitting there pissed off because we got shut out and intrigued because otherwise we're having a pretty good day with our picks. The fourth leg is won by the longshot I picked out at breakfast. He wins paying $115.60. If I remember right his name was Crown the Emperor.

So now I'm sitting there elated at having cashed a $20.00 win bet on the longshot but with a funny hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach because I'm wondering HOW I'm going to explain to my buddy that I didn't get the pick-6 bet down. We're four for four with our selections in the pick-6 and we have a 50-1 longshot. I'm slowly figuring out that we might have had a chance to have the only winning pick-6 ticket that day- if only I had gotten the bet down.

So I'm sweating bullets as the horses for the fifth leg enter the stretch. I've got ten bucks to win on one of our selections at 5-2 and he's in contention. Yet I'm cheering with every fiber of my existence for some other horse, ANY horse that we don't have to win somehow.

Sometimes the powers that be have a funny way of dealing out fate. And sometimes fate lets you off the hook.

Some horse that we didn't have won the fifth leg. And some horse that we didn't have won the final leg. So we we're only (or would have been) four out of six.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Now I don't have to explain to my buddy how we would have had the pick-6 if only I could have gotten the bet down. The next time I see him I tell him exactly what happened. He seems elated to get the $48.00 back given the circumstances. I vow that from now on I'm never taking anybody else's money with me to the track. Never again.

[Tom]

I was standing in line to make a bet and the guy in the line next to me suddenly keeled over and hit the floor motionless. I was the closest to him so i ran over and dropped down to help him. He was clutching some daily double tickets in his hand and his face was pure white. I listened to his chest to see if I could hear his heartbeat. Just then a security gaurd came over and asked me.."Is he alive?"
I looked up a the gaurd, shook my head and told him,"NO. He left the favorite out.":rolleyes:

[JimG]

Originally posted by Tom
I was standing in line to make a bet and the guy in the line next to me suddenly keeled over and hit the floor motionless. I was the closest to him so i ran over and dropped down to help him. He was clutching some daily double tickets in his hand and his face was pure white. I listened to his chest to see if I could hear his heartbeat. Just then a security gaurd came over and asked me.."Is he alive?"
I looked up a the gaurd, shook my head and told him,"NO. He left the favorite out.":rolleyes:

That's the hardest I have ever laughed at a post on this board. Thanks Tom.

Jim

[JustRalph]

Originally posted by Tom
I was standing in line to make a bet and the guy in the line next to me suddenly keeled over and hit the floor motionless. I was the closest to him so i ran over and dropped down to help him. He was clutching some daily double tickets in his hand and his face was pure white. I listened to his chest to see if I could hear his heartbeat. Just then a security gaurd came over and asked me.."Is he alive?"I looked up a the gaurd, shook my head and told him,"NO. He left the favorite out.":rolleyes:

man.........I think I busted a kidney................

Tom you are the best.............

[Dan Montilion]

Originally posted by Tom
I was standing in line to make a bet and the guy in the line next to me suddenly keeled over and hit the floor motionless. I was the closest to him so i ran over and dropped down to help him. He was clutching some daily double tickets in his hand and his face was pure white. I listened to his chest to see if I could hear his heartbeat. Just then a security gaurd came over and asked me.."Is he alive?"
I looked up a the gaurd, shook my head and told him,"NO. He left the favorite out.":rolleyes:

Tom,

Indeed you are the King Primate. However, you really blew the cob-webs off of that one.

Dan Montilion

[Bubbles]

Originally posted by Tom
I was standing in line to make a bet and the guy in the line next to me suddenly keeled over and hit the floor motionless. I was the closest to him so i ran over and dropped down to help him. He was clutching some daily double tickets in his hand and his face was pure white. I listened to his chest to see if I could hear his heartbeat. Just then a security gaurd came over and asked me.."Is he alive?"
I looked up a the gaurd, shook my head and told him,"NO. He left the favorite out.":rolleyes:

We oughta pay you for your humor.

10 bananas a week, perhaps? :) :D ;)

[BillW]

Originally posted by Bubbles
We oughta pay you for your humor.

10 bananas a week, perhaps? :) :D ;)

Careful, there is nothing worse than a simian that can't get over himself. :D

[Hosshead]

Originally posted by Tom
I was standing in line to make a bet and the guy in the line next to me suddenly keeled over and hit the floor motionless. I was the closest to him so i ran over and dropped down to help him. He was clutching some daily double tickets in his hand and his face was pure white. I listened to his chest to see if I could hear his heartbeat. Just then a security gaurd came over and asked me.."Is he alive?"
I looked up a the gaurd, shook my head and told him,"NO. He left the favorite out.":rolleyes:
I saw the late actor Walter Matthau tell the same joke (several times), and he always swore it was a true story ! Except the punchline was different:......
......"Is he Alive ?"... answer: .. "Only In The Double" !

[GameTheory]

Jack Lemmon told a story that he was working on a movie with Walter Matthau and Walter was doing some sort of minor stunt and accidently fell on his back and hurt himself. He was lying on the ground in agony, and everyone told him to stay still while they got the doctor. Lemmon leaned over and said, "Walter, are you comfortable?" and Matthau replied, "Oh, I make a living."

[dogkatcher]

I don't know if you'd call this a horror story, but one beautiful sunny day at Santa Anita, there was this older women who kinda looked like Granny on the Beverly Hillbillies, she was sitting on the ground floor eating her hot dog with all the fixens. When she finished she proceded to remove her false teeth and lick and suck all the mustard and goop off them. It had been a beautiful sunny day at Santa Anita, ugh!.

[Hosshead]

Originally posted by GameTheory
Jack Lemmon told a story that he was working on a movie with Walter Matthau and Walter was doing some sort of minor stunt and accidently fell on his back and hurt himself. He was lying on the ground in agony, and everyone told him to stay still while they got the doctor. Lemmon leaned over and said, "Walter, are you comfortable?" and Matthau replied, "Oh, I make a living."
lol !

[freeneasy]

and the next time i saw him i said hey gary where ya been man? turns out the rent a cops arrested him for something completely bogus. the rent a cops there hauled him downstairs, printed him up, took a pollaroid mug shot of him and hung it up on this great big reminder board with all the other polleroids of all the hustlers, cons, pick pockets, thieves, trouble makers that were busted and banned from the track, booted him out and banned him for six months.
so one friday night at holly i either lost track of of my coat or it got stolen and i went downstairs to the lost and found to see if someone my have turned it in. yeah, fat chance of that happening. anyway i am standing at the counter and right there on the wall on the other side of the counter was the reminder board with all the mug shots on it. so i start tripp'n on all the mug shots, i mean the whole board was just covered with polleroids of what sure looked like every possible seedy element that ever had a part in the entire make up of the world down at the track.
so anyway iam trippen on all this when i see my buddy gary's picture up there and i start cracking up and this rent a cop comes up says can i help you, i says yeah did anyone turn in a jacket, he says no and i make a comment about the board in the manner of trying to act innocent and cover my tracks like "i wasnt up to nothing" cause i knew what iwas going to do the instant i saw garys picture up there on the board.
so i said to the cop something like hey you mind if i stand here for a minute and just kinda check out all these pictures. he says no go ahead , help yourself. so he goes back thru the door into the back room and out of sight. all was quiet and i could tell that there was no more then two guys on duty there. no one could see me and all systems were go. so i ducked under the lift up counter, step and a half later i pulled garys picture off the board, slipped back under the counter and took a powder out-a-there.
you had to be there.
next week i saw gary, tommy, and bob down at the track up there on the third floor siitting around in the stands and i go over to gary and said, hey gary remember that mug shot they took of you and he says yeah, what about it and i says happy bithday and flip the picture into his lap, he picks it up and looks at it and everybody just starts busting a gut. oh man you just had to be there, nobody could stop laughing, it was so funny