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A Day at the Races
My betting luck
was horse*&#@, but the whole experience was a winner.
What I know about horse racing would
hardly even fill up a saddle. A hoofprint maybe.
I don't know a filly from a thoroughbred, an exacta from a trifecta
and certainly not a quinella from a superfecta.
This would have been obvious to anyone who might have been observing
my wallet becoming thinner as my day at the races wore on, but I was
greatly comforted by the fact that even though I failed to pick winners
in seven of nine races, my total losses were far less than just one
unlucky roll of the dice at a Vegas craps table.
The event was the Santa Anita Handicap at Santa Anita Racetrack. I
know this was a big deal because my host, a former PR guy at the track,
told me so. Plus, The Los Angeles Times ran a story on the event's
history.
I had only been to one other horse race. It, too, was a biggie, the
Breeder's Cup. Ironically, it was at the same track. I was given passes
and went with Christy Carlson, the six-time World Jet Ski champion.
Christy and I knew absolutely nothing about what was going on or why,
but while in the stables just before what turned out to be the highlight
race, she pointed to a jockey and predicted his horse would win. "I'm
an athlete and I can see it in his eyes," she reported.
Rather than betting on this piece of wisdom, we secured a good viewing
spot at the railing along the front straight. We celebrated when the
horse won, not realizing until much later that it was the biggest upset
in the history of the Breeder's Cup and had we bet even $10, we would
have won something like $10,000.
 That
was some years ago and I've secretly wanted to make another run for
these roses. When my friend Chris Esslinger – who traded horses
for horsepower when he became PR director of the Toyota Grand Prix of
Long Beach – offered to show me and some fellow PubClubbers
the ropes, so to speak, I jumped at the chance. In fact, we all jumped.
Rather than taint ourselves with expectations and false expertise,
we as a group decided to go into the day wearing blinders.
Chris'
efforts to educate a dozen PubClubbers who arrived quite buzzed from
the limo ride on the way to the track were admirable. He has an obvious
passion for the sport and truly wanted us to enjoy the experience.
I never did get the hang of the wagering options and lingo, but I was
quite impressed with the patience and friendliness of the people working
the betting windows. In fact, everyone we encountered was especially
nice. Take our waitress, for example. Not only did she seem to appear
more frequently than the betting lines, but she served us with such
a pleasant demeanor I thought I was dealing with Dafney from Frazier.
(Then again, we didn't approach Jenny Craig, who was sitting a few
tables away from us; I'm sure she's friendly, though!)
Another positive was the totally laid-back atmosphere in which the
races were conducted. Here we were at one of the largest, oldest and
most prestigious horse racing events in the U.S., one that dates back
to 1935 and featured horses that will run in this year's Kentucky Derby,
yet we were free to walk through the stables, lean against a post right
along the track to watch the races, even stop and talk with the jockeys
if we so desired.
Still, a few of the peculiarities about horse racing stood out in my
mind. For instance, when people say a horse is "hung," they
are not speaking about its physical prowess. It simply means it is "hung
up" behind other horses in a race and is unable to move up in the
field. (Kind of brings new thought to the phrase "hung like a horse.")
There is no victory celebration for the public to view. Instead, the
champagne is sprayed in a private area well beyond the view of race
fans.
Most of all, I can't figure out why people around me were winning a
hundred dollars for betting the same horses when I was only pocketing
something like $12.20.
I guess that means another trip to Santa Anita is in my future.
The Bartender can be reached at bartender@pubclub.com
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