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Bullet Works

Bullet Works

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As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.  His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him.  As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.  While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” (John 9:1-5)

 

If you know me, you know I am big fan of horse racing. In the world of horse racing when you talk about works, it is referring to the training runs, the workouts the horse performs typically in the mornings.  For instance, the trainer may have the horse “work” four furlongs (a half mile) to keep the horse in good condition in between races.  These works are typically timed and published for handicappers.  A bullet work occurs when a horse runs the fastest work of all the horses training that particular morning.

Bullet works are good works.

 

Afleet Alex like all other thoroughbreds born in 2002, as far as the racing world is concerned, turned three years old on January 1, 2005.  After winning a couple of Grade One stakes races as a two year old,  he went on to win the Arkansas Derby and qualify to be eligible for the Kentucky Derby.

In the traffic of the Kentucky Derby Afleet Alex finished third.  Two weeks later in the Preakness Stakes, Afleet Alex, stumbled at the top of the stretch and nearly dropped to his knees with his nose almost going into the dirt, but miraculously he recovered.  Jeremy Rose, the jockey, had no idea how he was able to remain on the horse.  He did, and not only did they manage to recover, but they also went on to win the Preakness Stakes by almost 5 lengths.

Three weeks later Afleet Alex would win the Belmont Stakes, the third leg of the Triple Crown by exploding in the final turn and winning by seven lengths.

Three of the children of the ownership syndicate of Afleet Alex were named Alex or Alexandria which is   how the son of Northern Afleet and grandson of Afleet earned the Alex portion of his name.

 

Alexandra “Alex” Scott was born in January of 1996.  Shortly before her first birthday Alex was diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a type of childhood cancer.   In the year 2000 after her fourth birthday, she received a stem cell transplant and told her mother if she if she got out of the hospital, she wanted to have a lemonade stand.  She wanted to give the money she earned to the doctors to “help other kids, like they helped me.”

Later that year she held her first lemonade stand and raised $2000.

Despite her battle with cancer Alex and her family would continue to hold lemonade stands to raise money to fight childhood cancer.  As news spread about the little girl with neuroblastoma who was dedicating her frail life to raising money to help other sick children like her, more lemonade stands popped up with the proceeds going to Alex’s cause.

The owners of Afleet Alex had become aware of the efforts of young Alex and her lemonade stand by reading an article in a local newspaper one day.  They felt some connection between their Alex and the little girl working to help fight cancer and they began to donate a portion of Afleet Alex’s winnings to Alex’s Lemonade Stand.  At first the donations were anonymous but as Afleet Alex became more successful a partnership was established and little Alex’s cause was shared with the world.

In August of 2004 Alex passed away at the age of eight years old. Up to the time of her death, her charity had raised more than one million dollars.

But even after her death, Alex’s parents continued the Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation  Through their association with the owner’s of Afleet Alex they were invited to set up Alex’s Lemonade Stand at the 2005 Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont thus exposing the foundation to world.

 

After winning the Belmont it was determined that Afleet Alex had a leg injury that would end his racing career and he was retired to Gainseway Farm in Lexington, Kentucky.

When Afleet Alex stumbled and jockey Jeremy Rose surely should have been thrown from that horse, he would say “An angel kept me safe.”  That angel in his mind was little Alex.

Alexandra Scott was very special, and to many so was Afleet Alex.

One of the owners tells a story of a visit to Gainseway Farm where she found two women openly weeping while standing in front of Afleet Alex.  They were sisters and one of the sisters had recently been diagnosed with cancer.  They had driven all the way from Maine to see this horse.  The owner explained that the sister with cancer truly believed that if she could just touch the horse, she would be cured.

 

We don’t know why Alex Scott developed the cancer that took her life after just eight short years.  But as the scripture above explains it wasn’t because she sinned, or her parents sinned.  With her cancer Alex recognized the need to help other sick kids and the doctors working to find a cure.  She answered her call to perform good works.  As a team, the two Alex’s raised a lot of money to help to find cures for pediatric cancers. You might say the works of God were displayed in the efforts and generosity of the pairing of Alexandra Scott and her family with the owners of this horse and Afleet Alex himself though surely, he didn’t understand how much his work mattered in the cause.  But others, like the sister who thought touching him might cure her cancer, understood how special he was.

I have read that Methodists believe “Faith is necessary to salvation unconditionally. Good works are necessary only conditionally, that is if there is time and opportunity.”  We might find some comfort in that since we don’t always have the time or the opportunity to serve at certain stages of our lives, yet our faith remains strong.

For Alexandra night came sooner than expected, but she made the best of her opportunity.

“As long as it is day, we must do the works of Him…”

And they did.

You might even call them bullet works.

 

 

To find out more about Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation or to donate here is a link.

 

Afleet Alex
Photo of me and my son in law Namaan in the Paddock at Gulfstream Park with other owners of Iron Works this past Sunday.

Postscript:

On the six Tuesdays during the period of Lent, I am participating in a daily writing that we are doing at my church, Sterling United Methodist Church.  The daily themes are based on one word each day and some associated scripture.  Today’s word is Works.  If you would like to keep up with the posts from others click on this link in the postscript.

Passing On Your Left

Passing On Your Left

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It’s Belmont Stakes Day.

Kim and I got up early and walked five miles along the Sugarland Run Trail.

After lunch, we decided to keep moving and ride our bikes, so I loaded up the bikes and drove to downtown Herndon to jump on the W&OD bike trail.

Today, not feeling the cycling cool, I opted not to wear my bike shirt, just a sleeveless tee-shirt and I put my bike pants on under my shorts.

Besides being more practical since I could carry my wallet and phone, though not my goal, the bike pants under my shorts made my butt look bigger.

When you are me, that’s a plus.

 

I have never been to the Belmont. I have been to the Kentucky Derby, I have been to the Preakness, but never the Belmont.  Growing up in New Jersey, not that far from Nassau County on Long Island, I had plenty of opportunities.

I remember a bunch of us watching the Belmont race one year at my friend Ricky’s house back in the 70’s.  As we watched the winner being brought into the winner’s circle for the photos and the interviews, there on our TV screen was another good friend and classmate from Oceanport,  Chris Nagel smiling and wildly waving his tickets, winners I guessed, while pressed up against the winner’s circle fence and on national TV.

Since I am not normally that lucky when it comes to betting on these races, the 2008 Belmont Stakes is another memory.  A long shot named D’Tara won the race at odds of 38 to 1.  A horse named Dennis of Cork ran second.  Anak Nakal and Ready’s Echo ended up in a dead heat for third.  I had all four of those horses boxed in a trifecta (the first three horses) and the exacta (the first two horses).  As a result, I landed two trifectas, one with each third-place horse, and the exacta.

Kim got some new patio doors and a front door out of that one.

 

The problem with biking along the W&OD bike trail is there are beer stops.  Heading towards Reston the first stop was The Bike Lane, a bike shop that also brews their own beer.  They had a great Kolsch and we sat outside at a picnic table.  I asked the guy pouring my beer if Tommy, an awesome young man who attends my church still worked there.  “Tom Brown?” he asked, “yeah we call him ‘T Bone,’ he is off today for his sister’s graduation party, I’ll tell him someone was asking about him.”

Another four miles and one very large hill later we stopped at The Caboose, a brewery in Vienna, Virginia adjacent to the bike trail. There we had a Czech and a Citrus Pilsner.

Then it was eight miles and that one big hill back to Herndon, ending at the Green Lizard, our local bike shop, for one more draft beer.

Then home to watch the Belmont Stakes.

It was a good race, though I didn’t get as lucky as I did in 2008. The horse Rombauer who won the Preakness beat my pick, Known Agenda, for third place knocking my trifecta out.  But I did have the exacta.  Not bad since I just played my birthday numbers and threw in Hot Rod Charlie because he had a good story.

No Triple Crown winner this year, some unneeded drama, now we look forward to next year.

 

At one point on the way home on the bike trail, Kim and I had gotten separated a bit.

I was riding slow, now tired from the long day.

A bike rider came up behind me and gave the courtesy warning before passing me, “passing on your left.”

Only this guy said, “passing on your left, ma’am.”

I had to laugh.

 

It was a nice relaxing day.

Lots of exercise.

Lots of sun.

A few beers.

Lots of racing.

And the question,

Was it my hair?

Or my new butt maybe?

That earned me a…

“Passing on your left, ma’am?”

Guess I will never know.

 

Postscript:

Our feature image is a selfie taken at The Caboose Brewing Company and Tavern in Vienna, Virginia.

Breakfast With My Grandmother

Breakfast With My Grandmother

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It’s Preakness day.

I am having breakfast.

This day’s breakfast is unique.

I am having breakfast with my grandmother Sophie.

My dad’s mother.

That may not sound unusual except my grandmother Sophie died in 1980 at the age of 82.

This morning however I was honored to be included in my dad’s world as he had coffee with his “Momma” (that’s what they called her) and talked with her as if they were catching up after not seeing each other for a long time.

When my mother placed her waffle on the table my Dad instructed her to cut it up in small pieces for Momma.

As crazy as all that may sound, I felt lucky to be a part of it.

My dad has had a hard week.

 

But that was yesterday and today he is doing much better.

 

It’s been a beautiful week on the water.  The breezes that had their bite felt from the north and east each day, subsided around sunset leaving the water with an eerie calm. Today the wind switched to the south warming up the air, the sun is shining.

 

Last night after everyone got settled I went out on the dock, put a hunk of peeler crab on my hook, and threw out my line straight off the dock in search of that legal rockfish.  The light from the waxing crescent moon was minimal and my vision was limited only to the area around me illuminated by the dock light. I stared intently out to where I thought my line was as in a trance.

All of a sudden out of the darkness a shadowy image appeared coming towards me from out over the water. It quickly got closer as it was headed straight at me.  In the shadows, I pictured a pterodactyl or a dragon maybe as the thing flapped its great wings spanning what seemed to be at least five feet.  Acting as if it was as surprised to see me as I was surprised to see it, the creature stalled in mid-air literally feet in front of me and dipped awkwardly to my right, its long neck and big beak leading the way.

Holy Maleficent! I thought as I said out loud “What the heck was that?”

With that I picked up my stuff and went back inside the house, it was a long day.

A day that started with having breakfast with my grandmother and ended with nearly being attacked by a dragon, now required a glass of wine.

Though I still don’t know what it was, an albatross, a great heron, or a brown pelican maybe, it doesn’t matter.

Makes for a good dragon story though.

And dragon stories are better than fish stories.

Now it’s Sunday afternoon, with that wind out of the south I am sitting with my dad on the deck.  I told him my dragon story and he laughed more than I had seen him laugh in a long time.

That was worth it.

God is good.

We’re Going to Make It……

We’re Going to Make It……

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I haven’t told my wife yet.

How do I tell my wife this?

Do I just come out and say it?

Do I leave a note on the counter?

Maybe a photo?

Maybe write a blog?

 

 

This is a big weekend for me.

I am a big fan of horse racing as you may know and today is the Belmont Stakes.

Tomorrow, as you also know I am sure, is Father’s Day. And next to horse racing, yeah I think my kids are pretty special too.   So I am looking forward to spending some time this weekend  watching some horse racing and also spending some time with at least some of my kids.

Eighteen years ago the family wanted to do something for me that was special so they asked me what I wanted to do on Father’s Day and they would arrange that.

I said, “I want to go to the horse races.”

And so, they worked it out that they would take me to the races at Laurel Racecourse in Laurel, Maryland on Father’s Day.

Not having a vehicle big enough for the six of us, we took two cars.  Alexa at the time was attending the University of Maryland in College Park and recommended that on the way, we also go out for brunch at the 94th Aero Squadron Restaurant located at the College Park Airport which she had been to before. This restaurant was a theme restaurant based on World War I and II aviation and complete with replica planes surrounding the building with sections made to look like it was exposed to “air raids.” On the way out of the restaurant we asked a passerby to take what would turn out to be the last photo of all six of us together in front of one of the planes positioned outside the restaurant, before heading over to the racetrack.

That was a great Father’s Day memory from 2002.

Now it is Father’s Day weekend 2020.

And this year we happen to have a horse racing emphasis once again on this weekend. As a result, it made it a little bit more special, though still bittersweet.

The Belmont Stakes is typically run on the third Saturday after the third Saturday in May when the Preakness is run which works out to be normally the first Saturday in June.   This year, however it’s on the third Saturday in June.  And typically the Belmont Stakes is the third leg of the Triple Crown and usually follows the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness which are the three races that make up the Triple Crown, but this year the Preakness will be the third leg sometime in October.  Triple Crown races are limited to horses that are three years old.

 

Are you following all this?

 

Of course, all the confusion created this year is on account of the virus.

 

Although Father’s Day, on the third Sunday in June remains unaffected by the virus with the exception of the fact that unlike eighteen years ago, this year I couldn’t go to the races even if I wanted to because patrons are not allowed in the stands to watch the live races.  Not to mention, though we probably could go out for brunch if we really wanted to by following the limited outdoor seating rule, I would prefer to stay in my back yard.

 

So in honor of this special memory of horse racing and Father’s Day eighteen years ago I thought it important this week to do something different that was special and on my bucket list.

 

Which, I haven’t told my wife about yet.

 

But here goes:

“Honey, we own a racehorse…”

“Actually, we own four…”

“Remember the evening this week we were sitting by the fire pit and I was on my cell phone?…

“And, you said you were going to go in because I was on my cell phone and not talking to you anyway?…”

“I wasn’t talking because I was busy buying a racehorse.  Well, actually four.  Well, actually just a share of four racehorses.”

“ A very small share.”

“They are just two years old and they are all girls.  Just what we need right?”

“Isn’t that great?”

“Happy Father’s Day?”

“Right Kim?”

“I love you…”

 

Donny is gone, the 94th Aero Squadron Restaurant is gone, I don’t think I have been back to Laurel Racecourse since that day, but I still have a photo and a nice memory.

And still stuck in the door of one of our kitchen cabinets is another reminder of this same time not quite eighteen years ago.  This one came in a sympathy card at the time and reads:

“NO MATTER HOW TOUGH LIFE GETS, IF YOU CAN SEE THE SHORE OF HEAVEN, AND DRAW STRENGTH FROM CHRIST, YOU’LL MAKE IT………………..

Still a great reminder today, as it was that summer of 2002.

WE’RE GOING TO MAKE IT…………………….

 

Happy Father’s Day, aren’t they cute?
Photo of the same plane taken in 2007 after the close of the restaurant courtesy of Ben Sumner.
Boo Boos, Bert and Ernie, Jesus, and Me

Boo Boos, Bert and Ernie, Jesus, and Me

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Would You Like A Lime With That Week Eleven

 

“Curtis! Put that down! You will poke your eye out.”

If you are someone my age how many times growing up do you remember your mother saying that to you?

I was cutting the grass this week at work.  Working within the evergreens with many cut off branches about eye level along the west side of the property, I was thinking about heeding my mother’s advice and my need to be careful that I didn’t “poke my eye out” when all of a sudden I was jarred back to reality by a sharp pain and my head being knocked back.

I felt the blood dripping down my eyebrow and watched it hit the sleeve of my shirt.  With my head hung out ahead of me so the blood would now drop down to the ground and not on me, I walked back to my truck to find a paper towel to apply pressure to the bleeding.

With my glasses now off and holding a towel to my head, I went inside the building and  to the first aid kit that I knew was on the kitchen counter  grabbing the first band aid I could find from the box that happened to be lying open on top of the kit.  I headed to the restroom to get a look.  The gash was about an inch and a half above my right eye.

Happy I didn’t “poke my eye out,” I washed the wound out thoroughly and applied my band aid.

The band aid I had grabbed was a Bert and Ernie band aid.

Back at my desk in the spirit of never letting a good crisis go to waste or, as it may apply to my kids, never let a good boo boo go to waste without getting some sympathy, I took a selfie to send to my wife.     Knowing that seeking some sympathy from Kim “No blood, no bones, no sympathy” Christiansen was a risk, I hoped for the best and sent the photo.

Upon closer inspection of the photo there was me, with Bert and Ernie, and over my right shoulder was Jesus.

How cool is that? I thought.

 

It’s already Memorial Day Weekend and we are, based on my beer bottle counting system, eleven weeks into this new world of Covid-19.

Along with my image of Bert, Ernie, Jesus, and me, photos seemed to be the theme of the week as reminders of this week from years past kept resurfacing.

My Facebook memories popped up this photo from 2018 of Ethan.

isn’t he cute?

Here is another from that same trip to Florida of Christian and Alexa and Namaan.

At the beach, isn’t he cute?
Alexa and Namaan

From Hayley, came this photo from  thirteen years ago  of the two of us on our adventure from Des Moines, Iowa to Fort Lauderdale, Florida when we joined other truckers on the road again moving Alexa to her  new home.  It was a hoot.  By the time we got to Florida we knew all the words to every popular country song at the time. I even bought a cowboy hat somewhere in Indiana.

Next to the rental truck somewhere on the road

Savannah posted a photo that goes back further than that of her and Donny with the McLaughlin boys.  She posted it on May 19, which  would have been Jimmy’s 32nd birthday.  Both Jimmy and Donny were taken from us way too young in life, both by tragic accidents. In fact Jimmy’s accident was four years ago this week as well.

 

Donny on the far left, Jimmy on the far right.

Courtesy of Google, here is when I accompanied Cameron on a field trip this same week in 2017.  Here he is showing me his grilled cheese.  That was a fun day.

On the field trip with Cam. Isn’t he cute?

There was the video from the Preakness in 2015 that popped up on my Facebook memories.  That was the year American Pharoah won in a downpour and ultimately went on to win the Triple Crown.  I can’t post the video here but here is a photo from that same day.

Baffert discussing the race with Victor Espinoza before riders up

And another from the Preakness in 2012.

Kim and I at the 2012 Preakness

And yet another Preakness in 2010:

Kimmy in the Winners Circle at the Preakness 2010. Isn’t she cute?

 

Memories of this week from the present and from years past.

All nice, but some bittersweet.

 

Another virus induced practice for me is that I have started to do video recordings of reading children’s books for my two little guys in Florida since I can’t go to visit yet.

This week I read them “Ralph Tells A Story” by Abby Hanlon.  The book is about how Ralph, unlike his classmates, struggles to come up with ideas to write his stories and about  how he overcomes this problem to become a very productive writer.  Ralph’s writing tips were to:

  1. Get comfortable.
  2. It’s okay to ask for help.
  3. You can always write about what you had for breakfast.
  4. And to eat lots of chocolate.

In other words, you can pretty much write a story about anything and it will be okay.

 

Even one about boo boos, and Bert and Ernie, and Jesus looking over your right shoulder.

 

 

 

The Coronavirus Post Script:

 

And remember to keep in your prayers:

Healthcare workers and their families. Remember “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy” (Matthew 5:8);

All those sick or compromised from the virus and all other health issues;

Those non healthcare caregivers working to take care of a loved one while isolated at home;

Families who have lost loved ones;

Those who have lost jobs and businesses.

And keep reaching out to those who may need some attention.

 

 

 

 

One Of Those Kinds of Guys

One Of Those Kinds of Guys

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I am exhausted.

It’s my brother’s fault.

My brother Gary turned 58 last Monday.

He is one of those kinds of guys that turn 58 but look like they are 38.

I hate those kinds of guys.

When I called him to wish him a happy birthday he says to me, “yeah…I’m back riding my bike and doing 100 push-ups a day.”

Excuse me? What was the part after “riding my bike” I thought to myself?

“Five sets of twenty,” he went on to explain.

One hundred push-ups a day?

I am not sure I could do one hundred of anything let alone push-ups.

But not to be outdone, the next morning I got up and said to myself, well if he can do it, I can do it.

But I couldn’t.

I did five.

And then an hour later I did seven.

The next day I was at it again. Though this time on my first attempt to get down on the floor my back gave out and I had to regroup for a few minutes.

Once stabilized, I did seven.

And then an hour later I did seven more.

Today, a week later, I am up to two sets of twelve, greatly assisted by my belly which tends to help me reach the bottom of the push-up faster.

I am not sure what my goal is with this.  To do one hundred a day?

Maybe.

 

It was a good weekend. Keeping with the theme of not to be outdone by my younger brother, Kim and I did a 20 mile ride on our bikes on Saturday.  And, I got five compliments on my new Yuengling cycling jersey that Hayley gave me for Christmas from other riders.

The Preakness was this weekend also.  After the debacle of the Kentucky Derby, the anticipation of the Preakness generated about as much excitement as a $2500 claiming race at Charles Town.  But I watched. And it was not without controversy either since a horse named Bodexpress, who probably had as good a shot as any of them, lost his jockey coming out of the starting gate.   It looked to me like the assistant starter forgot to let go of the horse when the gate opened.  Thankfully all were okay though I am sure all Bodexpress’ humans were greatly disappointed.  Bodexpress however looked like he had fun and finished the race like he thought he was supposed to.

Then On Sunday, to mix up the routine a little, Kim and I walked 10 miles on the bike trail.

The result of all of this activity is however…

I’m tired.

And my legs are reminding me that I am 62, about to be 63 in a month.

And I am realistic enough to know that I will probably never do one hundred push-ups a day.

In fact right now my primary goal is to get down on the floor and be able to get back up again.

I don’t want to set my sights too high.

And like Bodexpress, I may not be the winner but I will finish the race and have fun, like I think I am supposed to.

 

And besides, I have a cool bike jersey.

I’ll bet my brother doesn’t have one of those.

A Sentimental Racetrack Journey

A Sentimental Racetrack Journey

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Since the time I mucked my first stall fifty years ago on the “back side” (stable area) of Monmouth Park Racetrack in Oceanport, New Jersey I have had many racetrack related experiences.   Most good, some not so. Some of those I shared in a post called A New National Obsession in February of 2017.

But as a result,  this is one of my favorite times of the year, the first Saturday in May, the Kentucky Derby, the first of the Triple Crown races.

The sport of horse racing has had a rough winter with the deaths of 23 horses at Santa Anita Park in Southern California since December.   Efforts are being made to try to determine why that unfortunate situation occurred there.  Some blame the unusual amount of rain and unusually cold weather changing the racing surface.  I remember a similar situation at Monmouth Park in the 70’s when the entire racing surface was peeled off and replaced resolving the problem. But beyond correcting the racing surface, efforts are also being made industry wide to make changes to the sport that will make it safer for horses and riders nationally.

The following is a story I mentioned in  A New National Obsession, that I wrote in 2014, one of my favorite racing stories:

 2014 Horse of the Year

(Written May 23, 2014 and edited for this essay May 1, 2019)

 

Sir Sidney is the 5 year old son of Ghostzapper.

Ghostzapper was the Horse of the Year in 2004.

Sir Sidney, at five years old had only raced three times in his life and had never won a race. In fact it had been almost two years since Sir Sidney had even been entered in a race.

Sadly, Sir Sidney was five years old and still a “maiden”…horse racing’s term for a horse who has yet to cross the finish line first.

The third Saturday in May, famous for the second jewel of horse racing’s Triple Crown, The Preakness Stakes at Pimlico Racecourse in Baltimore, was to be Sir Sidney’s coming out party after a two year break.   He was entered in the 13th race, the last race of the day, the race after the big attraction. The race after the Preakness. It was the race that no came expecting to watch, the one that would be run while everyone was leaving the infield, the grandstands, the parking lot and sitting in traffic as they made  up “horse stories” to tell their friends about what could have been, what should have been… if only I had done this or bet that.

The thirteenth race, just the sound of it made you want to skip it, like not having a 13th floor in a high rise, or staying in bed on Friday the 13th.  But there was Sir Sidney, the only five year old in the company of nine three year olds reaching the starting gate for the first time in a long while.

The twelfth race, The Preakness, had proven to be just what everyone had expected or hoped for. California Chrome who had won the Kentucky Derby so convincingly didn’t disappoint in the Preakness. He won the race as the overall favorite, the crowd letting him go off at odds that would only return 50 cents on every dollar bet. Now, the only question that would remain, could California Chrome win the Belmont Stakes and be the first Triple Crown winner since Affirmed in 1978?

While everyone was pondering that and heading home, the 13th race went off at 7:10 PM, Sir Sidney broke well from the gate and took the lead on the backstretch. However, going into the turn, three horses passed him and he fell back to fourth. Coming out of the turn and into the stretch Sir Sidney dug in deep as a hole opened up in the leaders and he charged into it. Now three horses head to head charging down the stretch! As they approached the finish line Sir Sidney pulled away and won by a length! The unlikely runner, the old guy in the race, never having won before, finally was a winner.

Thrilling stuff right?

C’mon I am getting goose bumps writing about it!

So right now you are wondering “okay Curt, where are you going with this? Why should I care?”

Well maybe you shouldn’t.

 

But let’s just say hypothetically you are me and a passionate fan of the sport, and an occasional recreational bettor. And let’s also imagine that you/me, like a lot of other people thought California Chrome was the best bet of the day, maybe the best bet of the year. And let’s just say you/me thought real long and hard about making that recreational wager on California Chrome to win, number 3 in the twelfth race, the 2014 Preakness Stakes.

But let’s go a step further in our hypothetical situation. Let’s just say that wager that you/me thought long and hard about, the one that you/me so carefully and confidently placed on number 3, California Chrome in the 12th race , and cheered loudly for as California Chrome crossed the finish line in spectacular fashion only to find out………

That your/my horse didn’t win, because, by mistake, the horse that you/I  bet was actually number 3 in the 13th race!

 

I think you/me are probably feeling pretty silly right now huh?

 

Silly that is…until about 7:12 pm.

 

I don’t know about you, but Sir Sidney, number 3 in the 13th race, would be my vote for 2014 Horse of the Year.

 

The End

 

That betting mistake, instead of returning $3.00 on my $2.00 California Chrome bet, returned $26.20 on the win by Sir Sidney.

The following year Kim and I would stand under an infield tent at Pimlico and watch American Pharoah win the Preakness in a downpour. Unlike California Chrome,  he would go on to win the Belmont and be the first Triple Crown winner since 1978.   Coincidentally, my horse of the year for 2014, Sir Sidney was on the card that day.  For sentimental reasons I felt inclined to place a bet on him.

And as a result of those sentimental reasons, I lost that bet.

Horse racing is a sentimental sport.  The beauty of the animal, the lure of a name, the story of the journey, the memory of a past encounter.  That is part of what draws me to it.

Sir Sidney is now ten years old and he is still racing. As a gelding there would be no cushy stud future for him.  In fact he ran this past Sunday at Philadelphia Park and finished fourth going a mile in a claiming race.  Going off at odds of 20 to 1, he earned his owner $1,400 and could at least say he beat the favorite, who finished last, earning him some track cred the next time he sees that guy out on the track exercising in the morning.

It’s hard to not get sentimental about Sir Sidney.

I feel reacquainted, he is part of my journey.

The old guy, in spite of the aches and pains of growing older, he is still out there working.  Having to prove himself to the young guys, doing something he still enjoys, having fun.

I get it.

I hope you take some time this Saturday and watch the Kentucky Derby. I hope you pay attention to the stories, enjoy the majestic beauty of these animals, get caught up in the drama.

I hope you find something sentimental in the experience that makes you want to return.

I hope you find your Sir Sidney.

 

 

 

 

A New National Obsession

A New National Obsession

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February 2, 2012 was the birthday of American Pharoah, thoroughbred horse racing’s last Triple Crown winner. American Pharaoh, in 2015, was the first Triple Crown winner (i.e., winner of the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes) since Affirmed in 1978.  There have only been twelve Triple Crown winners since Sir Barton did it in 1919 and so, for a brief moment in time, the eyes of our country were once again watching a horse in a sport longing for the days when it truly did capture the attention of a nation.

In Laura Hillenbrand’s book Seabiscuit, An American Legend, Seabiscuit was described as “a runty little thing” whose favorite pastime was sleeping and was “inclined toward portliness.”

Yet Seabiscuit had already started fifty races, many more than horses now a days will run in a lifetime, before it is said, that he finally figured it out.

It was the mid to late 1930’s, a time when a country needed a good diversion.  Still in the grips of the Great Depression, Americans found something else to capture their attention.  It was funny looking Cinderella of a horse named Seabiscuit who became…a national obsession.

 

In the early 1960’s, with the ever looming threat of a nuclear bomb attack during the Cold War that was way beyond our ability to comprehend at such a young age, an entire elementary school of kids and their teachers made the trek from the thought to be not safe environment of our school building to the massive Monmouth Park Race course facility.  The large track building would provide us a better bomb shelter in the nuclear bomb attack we were practicing to survive.  At the end of the drill the fire department would use their fire trucks to help transport some of the kids back to the school.  I got my picture in the newspaper that day, as I was returned to Wolf Hill School on the back of a fire truck.

My grandparent’s house sat adjacent to the outer parking areas of the track in a part of Oceanport,  New Jersey called Hillcrest.  As kids we would go out into the parking lots and pick up the discarded racing programs that littered the ground and became absorbed in all the unusual horse names and the odd cryptic pencil markings of the patrons.

In spite of having grown up listening to the race announcer and the bugler from my back yard, the nuclear bomb drill that day was the only time I had ever entered the Monmouth Park Grandstand and Clubhouse facility until I got a job with the racetrack Fire Department at the age of 20.  For the next couple years and three racing seasons, I would ride an ambulance picking up jockeys and patrons track side or from the Firehouse in the stable area, referred to as the “backside.”

The thoroughbred horse racing industry is a world all its own and my brief experience of working at Monmouth Park was all it took, I was hooked.

From the rich and famous to the transient circus like nature of the backside community, the firehouse was the hub of activity for the stable area.  It had frequent visitors, including track owners and owners of the football Jets in Leon Hess and Sonny Werblin; famous trainers like Jimmy Jones of Calumet Farms and 1948 Triple Crown winner Citation fame; low level gangsters; and many, many other colorful characters.  One evening, I walked into the bowling alley located just outside the stable (backside) gate and found a kid I knew from high school on the floor with two bullet holes in his face, a victim of an argument over a game of pool with a member of the stable community, a reminder that in spite of the outward appearance of money and fortune, the racing industry had its dark side too.

I have stood in the paddock of Churchill Downs on Derby Day, cigar in hand; and on the infield rail next to the winners circle and watched Bob Baffert lend a helping lift to Victor Espinoza with “riders up” on American Pharoah just before the skies opened up with a torrential rain and American Pharoah romped to victory in his second leg of the Triple Crown.

I have learned a little about how to pour over figures and attempt to find the winner out of the Racing Form, racing’s past performances newspaper; and I have learned a lot about restraint and moderation after losing my entire paycheck one day while working at Monmouth.  I made twenty five dollars a day at the time and had to borrow money from my brother to pay my auto insurance bill.  That was good lesson and one never forgotten.

I have used Secretariat’s stretch run winning the Belmont by 31 lengths and never looking back to describe my marriage.

Secretariat winning the Belmont

My experience and the story of Sir Sidney, who was my vote for 2014 Horse of the Year, California Chrome, and the 2014 Preakness, still makes me laugh.

So you see for me, the whole industry is fascinating, very entertaining and has served as a good diversion for me in my life.

That is why this time of the year when all two year old horses become three year old horses regardless of their actual birth dates, and the prep races for the Triple Crown begin once again, I get excited.  Could this be the year that we may be watching the 13th Triple Crown winner develop before our eyes and grab the attention of not only the die-hards but the nation’s masses as well?

I understand the allure.  It’s like sitting in that movie theater, having the house lights go down and for the next couple of hours you are transported to another world.  I can recall some really bad days in my life when I found myself standing at the rail at Laurel or Monmouth just to escape.   I understand why in 1937 and 1938 a small, unlikely looking race horse could represent something positive in a time filled with hardship and draw a hundred thousand people to a race course with hundreds of thousands more glued to their radios.

On November 1, 1938 forty thousand people showed up to watch a match race between Seabiscuit and War Admiral.  The official capacity of Pimilico Racecourse at the time was 16,000.  War Admiral had won the Triple Crown the year before and was thought to be the best horse in the world.  Fans hung from the rafters as they watched Seabiscuit and War Admiral neck and neck at the turn coming into the stretch. The race would end with Seabiscuit crossing the finish line four lengths ahead.

Because in 1938 as Hillenbrand explains in the Preface of her book, though the country was still suffering from the effects of the Depression and the struggle for world power was beginning; the year’s number one newsmaker was not FDR, or Hitler, or Mussolini, or Lou Gehrig, or Clark Gable.  It was remarkably this horse, Seabiscuit, who had captured a nation.

Great stuff huh?

This year, as I break out the hawaiian shirt with the race horses on it and begin watching the prep races that will qualify the entrants with enough points to make it to the Kentucky Derby, I am hoping for another Seabiscuit, or another Secretariat, or another American Pharoah, or another War Admiral.

For I think that if there ever was time when we needed a new National Obsession I think now might be that time.  I would love to see a magnificent animal with a colorful cast of characters behind him or her,  capture the attention and imagination of a nation, populating my Facebook feed with dramatic stories of great efforts,  and hope,  and winning.

And having it all be positive and uplifting.

Yup, that is my hope.

“C’mon Seabiscuit!”

Seabiscuit coming  down the Pimlico stretch beating War Admiral