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Registered User
Join Date: Dec 2007
Posts: 4,033
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Ever Happen To You?
"I got it! I got It!" I blurted out. "I've bailed," I said to my friend "Bucko."
We were at NH's Rockingham Park second floor "Sports Bar."
We had come there that August afternoon to play "The Spa" and several other tracks. I was having a terrible day. What made it even more frustrating was the fact that I was just missing. I'd hit one part of the exacta but miss the other, or I'd leave out or cross off a horse that I needed to complete the trifecta.
Well, I remember we had come to the 8th race at 'toga. It was a mile-and-an eighth stakes race that was run on the turf. I recall that I was down about $150. I had only enough for money left to bet a handful of exactas.
In the minutes before the start of the race, "Bucko" and I pored over the form. I remember saying, "Bucko, I can make a case for this 9-horse (a 30-1 longshot). "You're grasping at straws," "Bucko" replied. "This horse has as much a chance of winning as I do of ever becoming a jockey ("Bucko" weighed about 200 pounds). Yet, I replied, "Yeh, I know he doesn't look like much, but I think the trainer's been pointing him toward this race. He's got some nice works," I continued. "Besides, he's out of one of the best turf sires there ever were: Lyphard."
Seconds later, I was ready to head up to the window with my last $20 bill. I recall "Bucko" saying, "Goin up to the windows (Like where was I going -- to an art museum!)." "Yeh," I said. "Bucko then added, "Would you make some bets for me?" "Sure," I said.
Moments later, I had reached the windows. The horses were about to load so I quickly called out "Bucko's" bets and then, mine. I recall calling out "Bucko's" bets first; they were mostly trifectas that keyed the favorite #4 horse first and second. Then, I called out my $2 exacta boxes, "Two dollar exacta boxes: 9-2, 9-4, 9-6, 9-7 and 9-8," I said. I then handed the teller the money and hurried back to where "Bucko" and I were sitting. I gave "Bucko" his tickets and stuffed mine in my pocket.
Just then, the race was off. As expected, the #4 horse had grabbed the early lead. I recall the fractions were reasonable. I believe he went to the half in 47.4. As I look at the field, my #9 horse is lagging far behind. It's almost as if he were about to lose touch with the field.
Well, the #4 horse is leading as they reach the far turn, but you see that he was starting to labor, Suddenly, like he was shot out of a cannon, the #7 horse cuts the corner and bolts to the lead. He had just made the winning move. He began to draw away by three, now four open lengths. But who was going to be second?
As the horses reach the wire, #7 easily crosses ahead of everyone else, but who's gonna finish second? With all eyes glued to the overheard screen, and for what seemed like an eternity, everyone in the "Sports Bar" anxiously waited to see who that second horse would be. Who would complete the exacta? What horses would complete the tri?
Just then, two or three blurrs crossed the finish line. I recall saying to "Bucko," "Was that a greyish-colored saddle cloth?" "I think so," he said. "I know that two horses crossed the wire at exactly the same time," he added.
Well, I'm now glued to the screen like I'm gliming "Cupcakes Cassidy" at the Burlesque Review at the Old Howard Theater in Boston's Scollay Square. Seconds later, they replay the stretch run. Yes, clearly the #7 horse has won (I had used him in one of my exacta boxes with the #9). Now, they slow it up as the horses reach the wire. I see two horses barelling down the stretch, one is the pinkish-colored #8 saddle cloth, the other, the greyish saddle cloth of the #9. It's hard to separate the two. It's a head bob.
Then, after about a minute or two, they post the numbers on the tote. The number-9 horse, my horse has been posted second. I'm ecstatic. "I've got it! I've got it!" I blurt out. In the photo, it showed my horse had prevailed by the tiniest of margins; certainly no more, in reality, than an inch or two. I then began to reach into my pocket for my tix. I remember "Bucko" saying, "I know who's buying a couple beers." I was happy to do so. The #7 horse had gone off at 6-1. He along with my 30-1 #9-horse have got to becoming back "big time."
Well, I take out my tickets. I look at them. My joy, in an instant, has turned to dismay. I don't have the winner. No money! No beers. No nuthin!
What had happened was the clerk had misheard or mis-punched the tickets. Instead of $2 exacta boxes, he gave me straight $2 exactas: 9-2, 9-4, 9-6, 9-7 and 9-8. At first I was dejected, but then I was furious. When there was a lull, I confronted the clerk. He said, "I call out what I hear."
(I was sure I had called boxes). I was about to make a snide remark, but then thought the better of it and just walked away.
It was another one of those ecstasy-turned-to-agony moments at the racetrack. It wasn't the first, and I'm sure --- it won't be the last.
__________________
Walt (Teach)
"Walt, make a 'mental bet' and lose your mind." R.N.S.
"The important thing is what I think of myself."
"David and Lisa" (1962)
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