Hajck Hillstrom
04-04-2012, 08:48 PM
Today is a sad day.
The cause of this sadness happened last year, but I didn't hear the news until today. I was checking my back-up Email provider, and discovered an Email from Mona Sunada, the wife of a very good friend of mine, Frank Sunada. Her missive described how her husband had passed away last year after battling COPD, and in an effort to clean out his office, she had come across some things that Frank had earmarked for me.
Those items were the annual calendars that Santa Anita gives out every year on opening day. Frank knew that I liked to recycle the calendars by folding the photos of racing memories into envelopes and sending my correspondences with the added impact.
Frank was a horseplayer, and one of the finest men I ever knew.
I could go on and on recounting the memories that Frank and I shared at the old Lancaster Satellite Wagering Facility at the old Lancaster, CA fair grounds, but I'm sure that most of you still reading this have your own such memories with fans of the sport. Frank and I spent 7 years handicapping together, and in that space of time, we shared many highs and lows, but every low was greeted with the fact that tomorrow is another day, and in this sport, hope springs eternal.
Frank always had nuggets of wisdom to share. He used to be a poker player back in the day before poker was popular and was a regular at the Commerce and Bicycle Club in LA, where he garnered many useful money management techniques. He would never lend money out because as a gambler, your cash flow was your tool, and you don't lend the tools of your trade to others, especially those you were playing against. He used to smile a wry smile when he heard someone proclaim that "they were playing with house money." "Only losers use the term house money," Frank would say, "once you win the money, it is yours, and what you do with that money defines you as a horseplayer."
I remember one day back in the `90's I played a $24 Pik6 ticket at Santa Anita at the Lancaster Satellite and Frank & I were sitting together at a table together charting its progress. To make a long story short, that ticket was 5 for 5 going into the final leg, where I had a 5-2 shot singled and piloted by Hector Torres. Hector gave the horse a very questionable ride, taking him WAY back, only to rush up at the finish and lose the nightcap by a nose. After all the dust had settled, no one hit the Pik6 that day, there was a $100k carry-over going into the next day, and my consolation paid around $2,500. I looked up at Frank and said, "well, I guess I should be happy.... I won twenty-five hundred bucks." Again, Frank gave me that wry smile and said, "no.... you lost fifty two thousand dollars today, and with just a half-way competent ride that money would be yours."
Frank had settled down to a good life with Mona in the Antelope Valley. He was an appraiser, and a man of good humor. Though I hadn't seen my friend in 15 years, it saddens me now that he is gone. I think I might make my way down to the Black Angus tonight and lift a glass of Chivas on the rocks in Frank's memory. We are lucky if we go through this life and can call a man like Frank Sunada friend.... in which case, I am a very lucky man.
The cause of this sadness happened last year, but I didn't hear the news until today. I was checking my back-up Email provider, and discovered an Email from Mona Sunada, the wife of a very good friend of mine, Frank Sunada. Her missive described how her husband had passed away last year after battling COPD, and in an effort to clean out his office, she had come across some things that Frank had earmarked for me.
Those items were the annual calendars that Santa Anita gives out every year on opening day. Frank knew that I liked to recycle the calendars by folding the photos of racing memories into envelopes and sending my correspondences with the added impact.
Frank was a horseplayer, and one of the finest men I ever knew.
I could go on and on recounting the memories that Frank and I shared at the old Lancaster Satellite Wagering Facility at the old Lancaster, CA fair grounds, but I'm sure that most of you still reading this have your own such memories with fans of the sport. Frank and I spent 7 years handicapping together, and in that space of time, we shared many highs and lows, but every low was greeted with the fact that tomorrow is another day, and in this sport, hope springs eternal.
Frank always had nuggets of wisdom to share. He used to be a poker player back in the day before poker was popular and was a regular at the Commerce and Bicycle Club in LA, where he garnered many useful money management techniques. He would never lend money out because as a gambler, your cash flow was your tool, and you don't lend the tools of your trade to others, especially those you were playing against. He used to smile a wry smile when he heard someone proclaim that "they were playing with house money." "Only losers use the term house money," Frank would say, "once you win the money, it is yours, and what you do with that money defines you as a horseplayer."
I remember one day back in the `90's I played a $24 Pik6 ticket at Santa Anita at the Lancaster Satellite and Frank & I were sitting together at a table together charting its progress. To make a long story short, that ticket was 5 for 5 going into the final leg, where I had a 5-2 shot singled and piloted by Hector Torres. Hector gave the horse a very questionable ride, taking him WAY back, only to rush up at the finish and lose the nightcap by a nose. After all the dust had settled, no one hit the Pik6 that day, there was a $100k carry-over going into the next day, and my consolation paid around $2,500. I looked up at Frank and said, "well, I guess I should be happy.... I won twenty-five hundred bucks." Again, Frank gave me that wry smile and said, "no.... you lost fifty two thousand dollars today, and with just a half-way competent ride that money would be yours."
Frank had settled down to a good life with Mona in the Antelope Valley. He was an appraiser, and a man of good humor. Though I hadn't seen my friend in 15 years, it saddens me now that he is gone. I think I might make my way down to the Black Angus tonight and lift a glass of Chivas on the rocks in Frank's memory. We are lucky if we go through this life and can call a man like Frank Sunada friend.... in which case, I am a very lucky man.