Wine and roses: Keeneland

Watching horses run on a TV screen bears the same relation to the real experience as masturbation does to sex.
-- William Murray, The Right Horse

To Mr. Murray's insightful observation, let me just add that the same comparison could be made between visiting Mountaineer and experiencing Keeneland. We attended Keeneland's opening weekend, and I'm still tingling.

Fellow TBA'er Power Cap has already given a detailed overview and some delightful pictures of the Keeneland experience. I'll not repeat his observations here, but instead I'll share a few of the moments that made our trip to Lexington so special.

• The paddock alone is worth the price of admission. At Keeneland, a visit to the paddock is a feast for the eyes, with stonework stalls and shady trees for for the horses to circle. A well-manicured hedge separates the fans from the runners. The connections seem to be there for most every race, from claimer to stakes, dressed in their winner's circle best. The hope in the air is almost palpable.
  
  And in these civil surroundings, stories seem to unfold. Before the third race on Saturday, a $50K Maiden Special Weight, I watched as an older woman patted her horse on the nose, watching her filly with an expression of eagerness and trepidation that would be familiar to anyone who's sent a child off to the first day of school. The story was completed minutes later, when I saw this woman again, now in the winner's circle beside Honchis'n Ponchis, the joy of the maiden win evident in her uninhibited grin.


• Even on busy race days, it's hard to get shut out. This is fortunate, since I often modify my wager based on my rather quirky observations of the horses in the paddock. I have yet to learn the language of confirmation and condition, and so fall back on a terminology all my own that puzzles my racing companions. The King, for example, cannot understand my notes, where "prancy" usually translates into a place bet, and "depressed" heralds a vulnerable favorite.
  
  On opening day, in yet another $50K MSW, I was strolling around the paddock, soaking up the atmosphere, with a win bet on Turfiste already tucked into my pocket. As the bugle announced the coming post parade, I was astonished to see Budget, an unraced gelding out of Seeking the Gold, jerk his head up, perk his ears, and, as I noted on my form, looking "ready 2 run." The short lines at the windows enticed me, and I made a little place wager on the eager Budget. While it was delightful to cash both tickets, I simply cannot fathom how I neglected to play the exacta, which paid $439. (Of course, it was the first day, and I was still a bit dismayed by the sad news that Keeneland no longer offers the quinella at all, so that may explain my lapse in judgement.)


• Keeneland is a lovely place to watch a grey on the lead. Power Cap has noted that the west-facing grandstand has sun glare issues, but I find that there's a certain beauty to the way the sinking sun catches that bit of blond at the end of a grey's tail on the backstretch that is simply magical. Both Thorn Song and Indyanne were glimmering as they set the pace in their races, the Shadwell Turf Mile and the Thoroughbred Club of America's Stakes, respectively.
  
  
  Avid readers know that a Turf Luck picture is worth about two words (usually "how awful"), but still, I'm fond of this photo of Indyanne I snapped after the race; she's headed back to the barns while the award ceremony and post-race interviews, shown on the jumbotron, are still going strong.


• It's a joy to cheer for a former Mountaineer horse at Keeneland. It seems that I always find a name that once graced a Mountaineer program somewhere on the Keeneland card. This year, Tactical Candy ran in the second race of the season, a $30K claiming race. I remember being seduced by her good looks last summer, when even with the capable Dana Whitney in the irons, she was unable to beat a similar field at Mountaineer. Since then, she's done pretty well on the synthetic tracks at Presque Isle, Arlington, and Turfway Park, so, being the sentimental fool that I am, I found myself near the rail for her third attempt at a Keeneland win. She went off at 11-1 and wired the field. And look -- who knew Tactical Candy could fly!

Now, of course, we'll be returning to Mountaineer for our racing entertainment. Perhaps that's a bit like necking in the backseat of a stolen Chevy, but ah! for one glorious weekend, we had the days of wine and roses!

Looking for a little love at Presque Isle Downs

Here at the Quinella Castle, we're beginning to feel the ramifications of breaking up with Mountaineer. It's been more than a month since we last crossed the state lines to play the ponies, and the absence of live racing has left us listless, with ample time on our hands to actually do the yard work and clean closets. Likewise, that easy excuse for avoiding annoying family commitments is gone; where once I could glibly say, "Nope, sorry, we won't be able to make it to second-cousin-once-removed's step-daughter's dance recital; I think we're going to the track that day," now I find myself accepting all sorts of painful invitations.

So, of course, we have been trying to find another track to fill the void. Proud Pennsylvanians that we are, we've found ourselves considering venues in the Keystone State. Twice in the past month, we've sallied forth to Presque Isle Downs in northeast Pennsylvania. While I'll admit to a twinge of angst at visiting another track owned by Mountaineer Gaming, it's off-set by the virtue of supporting my home state's racing efforts.

Last year, we visited Presque Isle twice: opening day and Master's Stakes Day. Though Presque Isle has made some "enhancements" since then (as was announced on the racino's anniversary), nothing major has been changed. Still no grandstand, and of course, no jumbotron.

Still, it seems as if there are more tables on the patio, and the interior has been rearranged, offering a modest improvement to the traffic patterns. The line for the buffet still extends to the front of the elevators, but it doesn't seem to be blocking access to the stairs as was the case last year. A low wall now divides the buffet area from the simulcasting area, and the ticket windows have been relocated to the wall opposite the buffet, so tray-toting buffet-goers won't be wandering through the ticket lines with their prime rib platters. Bottlenecks do occur where the buffet enclosure funnels those headed from the casino (or the buffet, the upstairs dining room, the restrooms) through a narrow walkway to the simulcast area. And, since the only door between inside and outside is in the simulcast area, this could become a major bottleneck indeed.

However, on the nights we visited, the crowds were manageable. We were on hand for the $100,000 Windward Stakes, and the King and I were able to snag a table 30 minutes before the first race. As the evening progressed, all of the patio tables filled up, and there were folks on every bench. Lines at the windows got long, but never too long, and there was a certain electricity in the air, due, I suspected, to the appearance of Michael Matz's Street Sounds in the feature event. (Street Sounds finished fourth to the gray trifecta of Graham Motion's Drop a Line, Michael Trombetta's Spectacular Malibu, and Merrill Sherer's Trainee.) I'd estimate the crowd of outdoor racegoers to be in the neighborhood of 3000 or so. It was a comfortable crowd, and I was delighted to see so many groups of 20-somethings and families with school-age children milling about.

On our second visit of the year, the feature race was a $50,000 claiming race -- and the crowd was only a tad smaller. I noticed a number of racegoers stopping to chat at other tables or shaking hands across the patio railing. A friendly group of regular horseplayers seems to be growing in Erie, and apparently, even on an off-night, there's a bit of a buzz in the air.

Personally, I really enjoyed the fact that drinks, snacks, and wagering can all be had without stepping inside -- and one can spend the entire night without hearing the incessant bing! bing! bing! of the casino's slot machines. Also, I find twilight racing has a certain charm that simply enchants me. Twilight, where the weary may find repose as the gentle breeze ripples the pages of the Form, the sun sinks below the horizon, and still the horses circle the paddock in rhythm with the cosmos. Then the bell sounds, bringing with it the cathartic combination of hope and adrenaline that may revive even the jaded psyche.

OK, yes, I'm a sucker for an evening on the veranda at twilight. But truly, for sheer sensual pleasure, the patio at Presque Isle Downs beats Mountie's l'il ole deck by a mile.

Local media has been kind to Presque Isle Downs, with the Erie Times-News featuring articles about the racetrack and jockeys. Also, the track, following in the success of Mountaineer's simulcast team of Mark Patterson and Nancy McMichaels, recently hired youthful Katie Mikolay and the more mature Ron Mullis(pic) to provide some pre-race patter. (On the nights that we attended, Katie's picks did a tad better than Ron's, but were also a bit chalkier.) Reportedly, the two also co-host the "Saturday Morning Works" program featuring interviews as well as comments on the workouts.

Perhaps because the track is new, perhaps because it's in a bigger town that has tourist attractions and colleges, perhaps because Pennsylvania is the only state to have a gaming commission postion dedicated to racing, or perhaps it's just because I'm still miffed with Mountaineer -- whatever the reason, we enjoyed our evenings at Presque Isle Downs quite a bit more than our recent outings to West Virginia. Can't say I'm ready to go steady with Presque Isle yet, since e-mails I sent in July still haven't garnered a response -- but, hey, there's nothing wrong with flirting, right?

Nouveau riche at Presque Isle Downs

"Actually the Clubhouse at PID is a great place to watch the races. If you don't mind being inside and if they actually haven't reserved all the tables for the "elite". Which they have done for all the big dates at Presque Isle."

--comment from Bill on the Foolish Pleasure

Ah, Gentle Reader, I could not resist posting this quote because it's the only evidence on the planet that ... for once in my life, I was smack dab in the middle of the elite. Yes, on Saturday, the King and I were at one of those reserved tables with honest-to-God real cloth napkins. We phoned in two weeks in advance to get "the last table," so we can report from the heady air of the clubhouse restaurant at Presque Isle.

There's Dom Perignon on the menu, but there's also Railbender Ale. And while you could drop some big bucks on gourmet offerings, there are also some reasonably-priced vittles available. But frankly, no seemed to be paying much attention to their food. Instead, they were either handicapping or trying to figure out how to use the snazzy flat screen wagering machines on each of the cloth-covered tables.

Based on our experiences on Opening Day, we knew lines at the windows would be long. We also anticipated technical difficulties with betting machines. We were right on both counts: lines did get long, except at the betting machines hidden behind plants in the bar area. Sadly, 2 of the 4 machines there were unwilling to accept cash, making it hard to place a wager.

So really, it behooved us to figure out the machine at our table. It's sleek. It's state-of-the-art. And it's so new, that only one out of 6 employees knows how to use it. We were quickly revealed as nouveau riche when our table required a visit from technical support.

Here's the scoop: the machines are easiest to use with one of Presque Isle's Players Club cards. You'll stand in line downstairs for this. Card in hand, proceed to a teller window where your card will be linked to your card, a PIN, and the amount of money you hand the teller. You'll get one little machine readable ticket for the day. To get your winnings, you return to the teller, hand her the ticket, card and PIN, and you'll be cashed out. I must say, this contributes mightily to your appearance as one of the elite, because there's be no tell-tale pile of losing tickets on your table.

The downside is that while the machines appeared to track wagers and winnings quite well, most of them had no sound. According to the tech support fellow, the audio works on well, like, every other one. My experience is that it's a much lower percentage. Thus, in the elite section, you have a spectacular view of the live races, and can even watch the simulcast program, but you cannot actually hear the program. Though the call is piped into the room, once the room fills up with the pleasant chattering of other horseplayers, you can't hear it.

Still, I was able to see:

* Some big name jockeys. Julien Leparoux came to town. So did Cornelio Velasquez and Jeremy Rose. Whoo-hoo! Here's a shot of last year's Outstanding Apprentice Jockey coming out of the paddock on Mama's Lil' Mon in the 2nd race.


* Some old friends. A number of Mountaineer horses, trainers, and jockeys were on the card: 9 year-old Capazuri picked up $9000 for placing in a $10,000 claimer for trainer Loren Cox (remember Lady Grace?), John Baird's Tidy Up took third -- and $4,000 -- in the same race. Jockey Andrew Ramgeet won both the first and the last races of the day. And, sadly, Deshawn Parker and my beloved Bernie Blue ran fourth in the Karl Boyes Memorial Northwestern PA Stakes.

* A new millionaire. Real Dandy, the winner of the 2005 West Virginia Derby, came in third in the Presque Isle Mile, picking up a check that moved his total earnings over $1 million.

I'm hoping they gave Dandy an elite stall to match his new-found status. Maybe one with better flooring than gravel.

Adventures in Wonderland: Presque Isle Downs

The intrepid Turf Luck travelers have returned from our visit to the first day of racing at Presque Isle Downs. By now, you've read Foolish Pleasure's recaps of the races and heard the Last Filly's disappointment. Now that the excitement and emotion of the first day have worn off, I'll weigh in with my impressions.

Situated right off of I-90 at Exit 27, Presque Isle Downs is really, really easy to find. From Pittsburgh, it took us only two hours of pleasant driving -- and no wrong turns! -- before the entrance beckoned us with promises of live racing. Succumbing to the siren lure of the dynamic signage promising live racing, we turned the Quinella Mobile into the main parking lot.

I had been warned that the terrain required a bridge between the parking lot and the casino, so I was not surprised when I found myself walking above butterflies and banks of Joe Pye weed below the bridge. I had not been warned about the greeter at the casino doorway. Unable to spy an entrance directly to the track, we entered the casino where we were welcomed by an aged woman in a fire engine red flapper outfit. Flustered I asked for a map of the track; our sprightly greeter seemed stricken when she discovered none of her brochures included a map. She did however point out the pattern in the rug which would lead us to the buffet, and beyond it, doorways to the track. I had one of those surreal moments when I felt like Dorothy in Oz, as the Good Witch of the North urges her to follow the yellow brick road. (And you know, the King does bear a slight resemblance to the Scarecrow.)

Soon, we were past the slot machines -- which I find I now associate with flying monkeys -- and we entered a bright room with a buffet to one side, wagering windows to the other, and flat screen tv monitors adorning the walls. Brightly colored tables were scattered throughout the large room. Surely we'd arrived at the Emerald City, for through the glass doors across the room, I could spot the gleaming rails surrounding the track.

Once we'd passed through the glass doors, we found ourselves on the trackside patio, lined with a row of silver tables and chairs. At one end of the patio, more teller windows and some tables of Presque Isle merchandise; at the other end, a row of potted shrubs hid the employee smoking area. At 3:00 in the afternoon, it was a delightful place to be. I wanted to sink into a chair, order a drink, and bask in the resort-like feel of the deck with the track sparkling before me.

Instead, I took a trip down the apron, where I discovered that the winner's circle is actually a rectangle. I half-expected the bricks to be yellow, but that's just the flowers.

And yet, even though racing was 2-1/2 hours away, there were cracks in the facade of the Emerald City. For example, it appeared that all of the tables had reserved signs on them. No one knew for whom. (Fortunately, we found a group of five or so tables at the paddock end of the patio that lacked these signs, possibly because the supply had run out.) At any rate, there were only three tables available when we arrived. At 3 o'clock. Two and half hours before the first race. Later arrivals would be relegated to standing or sitting in the three rows of benches on the apron in front of the patio.

Leaving the King (or Scarecrow, whichever you prefer) to handicap at our table, I felt compelled to visit the upstairs dining room. There's a large bar beside a substantial simulcast area on the top level of the upstairs restaurant; beyond this, are tiers of cloth-covered dining tables reminiscent of the Trackside Restaurant at Mountaineer. From the dining area, the view of the track is magnificent. I scampered down to the first row of tables to snap this picture before returning downstairs to snag my free poster and find Randy Moss's handicapping seminar.


As crowds started to arrive, it became apparent that we were in for some disappointment. Rather than continue with Oz-inspired similes and metaphors, I'll just spell them out here:

* Too few employees had been briefed on the day's schedule. Not one of the employees in business attire was quite sure about where Randy Moss would be holding his handicapping seminar -- or when. Not even the woman handing out media passes could answer this question. All of these staffers had "Marketing" on their name tags. Fortunately, I found Barbara, an employee wearing the casino uniform of blue vest and tan pants. I suspect that Barbara is far down the totem pole from the suited ones, but she not only knew where Moss would be, but who he was. She also knew that there 2500 posters to be given out to track patrons. Sadly, there were still some available after the last race, probably because no one, not even our Good Witch Flapper, told patrons they were there.

* There is no grandstand, indoors or out. By four o'clock, it was obvious that this was gonna be a problem. People had no where to sit down, and as they mingled on the apron, it became apparent that the track would not be visible from the lovely deck. Later, I discovered the race was not visible even from the apron, unless you were right on the rail. At right is my view from the patio.

* The brand new infield tote board does not have video capability. This would allow outdoor patrons a view of the race, something that was impossible on Saturday.

* The call could not be heard at the rail. At least not for the first race. I don't know if this was a technical problem or an oversight, but I do know that I had no idea what was going on for 99% of the first race. Not wishing to be in that situation again, I stayed at our table for the remainder of the card. By the fourth, I was standing on my chair during the race. As you can see at right, I might have teetered precariously, but at least I could see the horses.

* Poor traffic paths throughout the facility. I admire the experiment of mingling the buffet crowd with the simulcast area, as it seems to have two benefits: the slots players who come for the buffet disperse the air of desperation and exclusiveness that clings to off-track betting areas while at the same time, the arrangement exposes slots players to the excitement of racing as they refuel. However, the layout of the facility requires customers to carry their plates, piled high with morsels from the buffet, through the lines of folks waiting to make their bets. Also, the idea of having a hot dog stand, the stairway to the upstairs restaurant, the elevators, and the buffet all converge at the same point seems unwise to me.

* Not enough windows or machines were available. The lines for the inside tellers extended to the doors to the patio; outside, the lines were nearly as long, and often the queue extended down the stairs from the patio to the apron. Overall, it was extremely difficult to move. Lines for machines were little better, and generally moved slower, as many bettors were unfamiliar with the operation of the wagering machines, and slowed down the lines. Most worrisome to me was the breakdown of some of the outdoor machines later in the day. Somehow, I thought these were new machines and thus, less likely to fail.

Some of the other disappointments of the day were definitely technical difficulties that I assume are rather easy to fix: lights on half the patio didn't ever come on (yes, I was handicapping by candlelight!), and many of the heaters on the patio went out (and yes, that gentle lake breeze can be chilly!). Other mishaps could have been avoided fairly easily; for example, maybe someone could have checked Randy Moss's microphone before he actually needed it.

Still, there's a lot to like about Presque Isle Downs. The paddock is much nicer than Mountaineer's, and the general atmosphere is more resort-like. I loved being able to buy a drink or place a bet without going inside. The fact that it's the only track in the U.S. running races on Tapeta may lead to some interesting visitors. And I have to thank whomever was responsible for bringing Randy Moss to town; he was really accommodating to the fans and dealt with the technical difficulties gracefully. I overheard him conversing with someone about the West Virginia Derby, which Moss covered for ESPN. The fan mentioned how nice West Virginia was, and Moss concurred that yes, there was some beautiful country near Weirton before adding, "but this is nicer."

I agree. OK, it's not the Emerald City, it's an Emerald Village, but what with the state of racing nowadays, that may be enough reason to start shopping for some ruby slippers.

QQ conquers Keeneland

OK, conquers might not be the most accurate word -- but on this, our second trip to the high holy place that is Keeneland, we did discover:

1. Those Tomlinson numbers really are kinda helpful. I'm still not sure how I did it, but rolling around those parenthetical Turf, Distance, and especially, Wet numbers in mind while looking at the past performances seemed to help me pick some winners on the polytrack. And, I find the Tomlinsons are easier to use than Pedigree Handicapping by Lauren Stitch.

An aside about the book: I believe that Stitch's book assumes the reader has some basic knowledge that I, regrettably, still lack. Since there's no index to the horses mentioned in the book, I had a terrible time looking for certain sires. I suspect more sophisticated horseplayers who have been following races for a longer period than I have might benefit more than I did from Stitch's summaries and sire lists, since experienced handicappers might already have an inkling where to look for a particular sire. I found that horses with Danzig in their pedigree seemed to do well on the poly, though I never located him in the book.

2. With practice, you, too, can be a star. Last year, we sat in front of a couple that cashed a seemingly endless series of tickets and felt like total morons. Such classy horses, such successful trainers, such acclaimed jockeys -- and we were yearning for the familiar $5,000 claimers at Mountaineer. Perhaps we were dazzled by the proximity of greatness. This year, however, was another story. We walked out substantial winners both Thursday and Friday. And the women sitting behind us thought the King was some kind of god when he hit the exacta, the trifecta, and the superfecta (for a dime) on Race 5 -- in between my two win bets in races 4 & 6. They actually asked our advice!

3. Sometimes, being at the track can give you an edge. OK, I already knew this one, from my experiences at Mountaineers paddock, but when the rain began to pour for the 4th on Thursday, I figured only a horse with blinkers could actually see the track -- and the blinker-wearing Whisper To Me came in first at 7-1. (To my knowledge, this angle has not been covered substantially in handicapping literature.)

4. Win bets are just fine. Though I have a fondness for the exotics, periodically I remember William Murray's advice in The Right Horse: "When a horse you like is going off at 4-1 or higher, you must play him to win." This would explain how I picked up $54 on Jade's Revenge. And I was shocked to find that over the three days, I hit 60% of my win bets -- compared to 0% of those addictive 10-cent superfectas.

5. Magic happens at Keeneland. After the 6th on Thursday, a horse went down on the track, possibly while being loaded into the equine ambulance. I believe it may have been Rahoo, but really, that's just a guess, as I'm fairly unobservant. At any rate, the green screens went up, and the crowd turned quiet. Some long minutes later, the screens came down -- and the horse was standing. He left the track under his own steam, with a lead pony to calm him. Not quite a miracle, but definitely magical.

6. Wherever the Quinella Queen goes, Clydesdales seem to follow. We've now seen the Budweiser brigade at Mountaineer, Pimlico, and, yes, Keeneland. And don't you know, I take a picture of them every time!

Two tracks in two days

At last, I'm back from another work-related conference that interrupted the regularly scheduled programming here at Turf Luck. Weary from jet-lag and a pat-down search at the airport (don't ask), I returned to discover that the King had not only remembered my birthday but actually made plans to whisk me away for the weekend. I scarcely had time to note the unwashed dishes, piles of laundry, and leaf-covered lawn before we were off to the Grande Hotel at Mountaineer. (You'll recall it's a "Race Track and Gaming Resort.) The King had even made reservations for dinner at the Clubhouse Dining Room. It's lovely to be a pampered royal.

So we spent Friday evening at a cloth-covered table, nibbling Mountaineer's wonderful sherry button mushrooms and sipping shiraz while we wagered with abandon. And though it was nice to see Pearls for Dixie break her maiden after 22 tries (and she really did seem exited about getting to stand in the winner's circle), we had the 1-2-4 horses in not one, not two, but four trifectas. As the wisdom of sticking with a bet we obviously haven't mastered is questionable, we tried an exacta. Of course, our picks ran 1-3. Perhaps it was the wine that made this all rather amusing. Hmm...perhaps the wine had something to do with the selections, too.

The next morning, after a breakfast buffet that is apparently quite popular with the seniors, the Quinella Carriage set off for the village of North Randall, Ohio, home of Thistledown. While Ohio's libraries have long topped the national rankings, I suspect that the state scores poorly on highway signage. How else to explain the fact that I have never visited the state without getting lost? Nonetheless, we arrived before post-time for the first race. Despite the cold, we stood out on the apron and listened to the call being piped in from Beulah Park, since the two tracks were alternating the races on the card: odd numbers from Beulah via simulcast, even numbers live at Thistledown. It was an odd sensation to look out over the empty track while listening to the call of Schoolmeister's 23-1 victory in a maiden special weight.

We spent much of our time at Thistledown casing the joint, as it looks like we'll be spending the Breeders' Cup there. We don't have ESPN at the Castle, so we can't watch from home, and really, we'll want to be near a window on Saturday. Unfortunately, the OTB in our neck of the woods is populated by 'serious' players who seem bothered by my enthusiasm, or my small wagers, or perhaps, my gender. The desperation hangs heavy, and the layout is just bad feng-shui all around. Which is too bad, because all of the employees are gems -- and it's only 3 minutes from my house. Nonetheless, I just can't imagine spending racing's big day with a bunch of scowling old men who wouldn't be caught dead cheering a horse by name. Since all of the OTBs in Southwestern Pennsylvania are owned by the same company, I don't expect much better elsewhere within a 60-mile radius.

We considered going to Mountaineer, of course, but there's nothing special planned for Breeders' Cup Day. Sure, we could still go there to wager, but I'd like a little bit of excitement in the air. An acknowledgment that these BC races are kind of special. A shared experience with other members of the racing tribe. But even at Mountaineer, the hushed tones of the simulcast rooms seem to quelch that sort of thing.

Thistledown, however, is having a party. Or rather, a brunch buffet. I know this, because they actually put it on their website. I've written before about how nice it is to see something about racing on a race track's website, so I won't go into it here again, except to say that I don't see how a track can expect to gain new visitors and fans if its website doesn't seem very interested in horses and races. (Yes, Mountaineer, I'm talking to you.)

And our experience at Thistledown was delightful. The employees were especially welcoming; when we mentioned that this was our first trip to Thistledown, we got a guided tour through the whole facility by one of the security guards. The manager of the dining room made a fuss over us. Everyone was just as helpful as could be. They treated us like royalty.

So, unless the King is on call this weekend, we'll be spending our Breeders' Cup at a track outside of Cleveland. Not quite Churchill Downs, but still, an outpost of the racing world, peopled by members of the racing fan fraternity.

I can't wait.

Another victim of EDS

"At first, I thought being back in Orange County was causing my fugue state, and undoubtedly it played a part. But a therapist told me I also was suffering from EDS, the Saratoga strain of which was particularly virulent. EDS -- a biological cousin of Funny Cide Fever -- is Equine Deprivation Syndrome: a dispiriting malady triggered by sudden loss of up-close access to Thoroughbred horses." -- from The Big Horse by Joe McGinniss

OK, I'm back in Pittsburgh, not Orange County (thank God!), but I understand exactly what McGinniss means. Some how, the end of the Saratoga meet, the crisp, cool weather that requires jackets (and currently, rain gear), the return to the work after days of hiking and horses all seem to say summer is over.

Still, it was fun while it lasted. We were at Saratoga for the Woodward -- and Funny Cide. The NY Thoroughbred Breeders' Association handed out free posters of the Empire State's favorite gelding, and the Sackatoga Stable folk were on hand to autograph them. I took the opportunity to ask Jack Knowlton which of the books about Funny Cide was his favorite. His diplomatic answer: "the kid's book."

Published in April, A Horse Named Funny Cide by the Funny Cide Team and illustrator Barry Moser summarizes the story of the New York-bred's surprising victory in the Kentucky Derby. Knowlton was right when he told me the illustrations were great. It's aimed at readers in elementary school; I think 3rd and 4th graders will enjoy it the most. It was available for sale at the track, but I figured (correctly!) that it would be cheaper at Amazon. It's also available from the Funny Cide website, where you can request an autographed copy.


I was struck by the number of Funny Cide fans who turned out for his Woodward. Before the race, the rail was crowded with camera-carrying fans who were there to snap a pic of Funny Cide in the post parade. Booths were selling Funny Cide shirts (and hats, and jackets, and goodness knows what else) out in the picnic area. Folks at the track were excited about -- get this! -- a horse, even though they weren't that enthusiastic about his chances in the race. (I think he went of at something like 9-1.)

As Baloo pointed out over at the Bug Boys site this horse has a following. Of course, his is a rather exceptional story, complete with schoolbus-riding owners, but Sackatoga Stable has worked hard to market Funny Cide, and the result has been the creation of a fan base. (Imagine that!)

While I was gone, a little brouhaha developed over the state of horse racing blogs. Absent from the discussion was the role of the owners and trainers who actually have access to the horses, yet seldom seem interested in providing information directly to fans. (I won't even mention tracks who can't be bothered putting a photo of a horse on their website.)

Of course these folks are busy. And maybe it doesn't seem worth the time and effort. Yet, thousands of folks have visited Tim Woolley's site for the inside scoop on Barbaro's condition. Rockport Harbor's website (still fun to visit even though Rocky's now retired) offered the gray's fans a way to communicate with each other -- resulting in a busload of Philadelphians traveling to Oaklawn for the Essex. And when Movement or Highland Cat run, the odds go crazy as TBA members throw down some heavy bets on these horses known only from their owners' blogs.

OK, maybe that's enough hyperbole for now. Blame it on this darn EDS; I keep forgetting that I'm not at a place that names a room for my favorite wager.

Bettin' blind from Baltimore

The King had surgery this week, so yes, we're a tad behind here at the Castle. Still, I feel the need to mention our trip to the Belmont Stakes, as it marks the anniversary of our first trip to the track.

We started by heading to Baltimore. It's a bit out of the way from Pittsburgh, but Baltimore has at least one bar that serves White Carnations in honor of the race. Really, though, we have to go to Baltimore because that's where we catch the bus.

Organized by two avid horseplayers, the Bettin' Blind from Baltimore bus trip is enough to make a racing fan out of anyone. The morning of the Belmont Stakes, fifty to sixty folks board the bus in South Baltimore at 6:30 sharp. Coffee and Danish start the trip, followed by Bloody Marys from Jersey to Long Island. There's a Cigar Contest for picking the most winners, and horses are touted by the group's turf expert, the Wizard of the Weeds (aka the Marquis de Sod), the Notebook Mafia (don't ask), and last year's Cigar Contest champion. All passengers receive a T-shirt featuring original artwork to commemorate the trip. The group is deposited at Belmont's doorstep. After the races, the return to Baltimore is highlighted by pizza from Umberto's and the traditional showing of Let It Ride.
It's a blast.

It's also one way racing can grow. In the roughly 25 years that the dynamic duo has been organizing this trip, they've created dozens of new fans for the sport, including the Quinella Queen. Using that oldest of advertising techniques, word of mouth, the two fill up a touring bus each year -- and still have a waiting list. No corporate sponsorship, no support staff or marketing team, nothing but a willingness to share their passion for ponies and parties.

Here at the Castle, we're trying our best to follow in their footsteps. So far, it looks like we can fill a Honda Element for the West Virginia Derby.

Travelin' shoes

Once again, the King and I are taking off to enjoy ... the sport of kings. This time it is the Belmont Stakes calling, though frankly I'm just as interested in the turf races on Saturday: Gorella, Wend, Mirabilis, and that sneaky Ozone Bere are all in the Just a Game Handicap, while Grey Swallow, Relaxed Gesture and English Channel (not to mention Dreadnaught and Cacique) will match up in the Manhattan. With such offerings, how can we not pack up the roadster and steer our way to the Empire State?

Since this is our third out-of-state racing trip in as many months, it seemed wise to pick up a copy of Horse Racing Coast to Coast: The Traveler's Guide to the Sport of Kings by Michael Walmsley and Marlene Smith-Baranzini. Hot-off-the-presses, the book provides overviews of more than 65 tracks, covering everything from each track's racing season and admission prices to the location of the nearest airport. A more extensive narrative describes each facility, highlighting special race days and history. Often, the authors' personal experiences -- like having their horse get claimed at Emerald Downs or cheering on Smarty Jones at Churchill -- are included.

After the track descriptions, a "Must See/Must Do" section highlights other attractions in the area, while "Where to Stay" and "Where to Wine & Dine" sections offer suggestions for covering the basics of travel.

Though I would have organized the book differently, and though there's no listing for Grants Pass Downs, and all of Canada is jammed into an appendix, overall, Horse Racing Coast to Coast is a surprisingly entertaining read, due in large part to the quirky details that pepper its pages. For example, did you know that jockeys Rhonda Swan and Scott Speith got married in the winner's circle at Thistledown? Or that the Beatles played at Suffolk Downs in 1966? Or that every Halloween, the Meadowlands hosts the Grey Ghost Starter Handicap,a race limited to grey horses? Or, more importantly, that Oaklawn offers a prime rib platter for $8.99?

Hmmm...I'm betting we go to Arkansas next year.

What to wear at the Preakness?

No talking books today -- the King & I leave for Baltimore tomorrow morning, and I've been busy packing. This takes awhile, as it's unclear to me what sort of hat is appropriate for the Preakness. Generally, I would just wear the Quinella Crown, but for some reason, the King is prohibiting all sparkly stuff.

Still, I know what I want to be sporting on my wrist: a "golden" Preakness 131 wristband. Even if people mistake it for one of those yellow Lance Armstrong wristbands, I'll feel good about it since proceeds from my purchase will go to the newly formed Permanently Disabled Jockeys Fund. The fund will be managed by representatives from a number of racing associations, National Horsemen's Benevolent and Protective Association, the Thoroughbred Owners and Breeders Association, and the Jockeys' Guild. Thoroughbred Times quotes John Velazquez, Jockeys' Guild chairman:

"It was very important for the Jockeys' Guild to be united with the industry for this great cause," Velazquez said. "A lot of these guys get hurt when they're young -- in their 20s and 30s -- —and they don't have a safety net. It's more than just taking care of jockeys; it's about their families too."

Magna is promoting the fund heavily on its website, which includes and FAQ about the fund. The wristbands will be on sale at the Preakness; folks who won't be at Pimlico can order them by mail from NTRA Charities.

Here's hoping the wristbands accessorize well with my favorite cap, as it looks like that's all that will fit in the suitcase.

Keen on Keeneland

Above: Keeneland, April 7, 2006.

In Race Day: A Spot on the Rail with Max Watman, the turf correspondent for the New York Sun writes:

"Discovering Keeneland is akin to discovering that someone in your family owns a horse farm. Anyone like me, who learned about tracks at Belmont, Aqueduct, Gulfstream, and Hialeah, will not immediately recognized this as a place for horse racing. The grandstand looks more like a library at a fine private school. The grounds are trimmed and lush. Everything is built out of stone. The paddock is a lawn party among the hedges, with light white furniture and a rock wall. At Keeneland, even the parking lots are pretty. Nowhere to be seen are the typical oceans of asphalt that surround most tracks. Plenty of old trees shade the cars and dapple the sunlight."

It's all true.
So, yes, I should have been prepared for how pretty it all is. The shot above shows the shedrow (where we noticed Bob Baffert’s parking space was empty), along with one of the gates and the “lawn party” Watman describes. Yet despite this warning, on our first day, we continually found ourselves simply sighing with delight as we wandered the grounds rather aimlessly. Adding to our enjoyment was the fact that the rain, which started the minute we crossed the Kentucky state line on Thursday, had abated at some point during the night, so the fact that I had forgotten to bring an umbrella was not an issue. And, doggone it, everyone was friendly and helpful -- and seemed delighted that we'd come to visit. It was simply heavenly.

We got to the track before sunrise and stayed till the sun was starting to sink in the sky, casting some sort of ethereal, spring glow over the grassy grounds. We had breakfast at the track kitchen. We watched horses being bathed and caught the morning works. Mornings at Keeneland are tranquil; there’s a sort of mist around the trees that surround the track, and the only interruption to the hushed quiet is the occasional sound of a single set of hooves galloping past.

Later, we sat on the benches by the track basking in the sunshine, lamenting the fact that I had purchased the wrong batteries for the camera. So, we left the track briefly for a stop at a gas station to pick up batteries. We thought we'd get the Racing Form while we there, but they were sold out. Not to worry; the clerk and the folks in line behind us all provided suggestions about where we could pick one up. (The closest stop was the Liquor Barn, where a limited supply of Maker’s Mark in a commemorative bottle had caused a line to form in front of the store -- at 10:30 in the morning! Bourbon, the Form, and Derby glasses for $2 made this a productive little stop.)

Perhaps the track's bucolic setting distracted us from our handicapping, because we had a rather dismal day at the windows. Or perhaps it was just the shock of discovering that Keeneland offers quinellas on every race. Often, the exacta and quinella odds were shown on the same screen, and this too distracted me, as I tried to identify the scenarios where the quinella is a better play than the exacta. (It seems to involve favorites over longshots, but I could be wrong.)

While it was a joy to be able to say "quinella" all day long, I’ll cut to the chase: I didn’t hit a single one all day. (Guess I’ll have to investigate the Quinella Crusher after all.)

However, we did have some fine handicapping moments. In the 4th, $54,000 N1X allowance race -- by the way, let’s take a moment to say “$54,000!! I never see allowance races like this!” – for fillies and mares, it featured a horse named Lee Gage who last ran at Mountaineer on March 24, where she’d been ridden by Rex Stokes to a 4th place finish in a $27,800 allowance race. That’s a fairly high-quality race at Mountaineer. And, even though the track was rated fast, it still looked kind of damp to me – and dear Lee Gage had a win by 9 lengths on a sloppy Keeneland track last October. So, maybe this poor horse has a chance to be in the money. I decided to play her with Dance Hall Dreamer, who seemed to me to be good on an off-track, and Fieldabeat, who was being ridden by Julien Leparoux, the hot apprentice jockey who'd ridden her to her only wins. So off to the windows I go to play the trifecta, and while I’m in line, I realize that Keeneland offers the dime superfecta. Heck, I’ll just throw in the favorite, Initforthekandy, and box the superfecta!

(Left: Don't Lee Gage (the 6 horse) and Dance Hall Dreamer (the 7 horse) look fast in the post parade!)

Here's how they finished: Dance Hall Dreamer, Fieldabeat, Lee Gage (in the money, as I’d hoped) and… I’m A Cat Too. The trifecta paid $325, but the almost-superfecta paid nothing.


Saturday dawned bleak and frigid. It had rained all night, and the sky was overcast all morning. I wished I'd brought my gloves. It looked like it might rain again. We stopped at the gift shop to pick up an umbrella. (My souvenirs all seem to have a weather-related theme: if you look closely, you’ll see the fringe of my Breeder’s Cup scarf blowing in the rather brisk wind.)

I abandoned quinellas for the more sensible exacta box wager -- and a few well-placed win bets (the best: Ice N Lemon at 12-1!), and we were able to cash some tickets.

By the time the Ashland Stakes rolled around, the sun was out, and the track was drying out. (Again, I didn’t think it looked “fast,” but folks in these parts know a whole lot more than me, so I'll take their word for it.) I bet Balance to win solely to have a ticket with her name on it as a souvenir. Of course, with Balance going of at something like 1-2 odds, I needed another wager, so I played an exotic, too.

After the race, the King was shocked when I told him I’d won. “But Balance lost,” he said.

True – but that’s why you box those exotic bets. While I was cashing my ticket, the nice man at the window looked up from his register to say, “So you hit that superfecta, did you?”

Well, yes, sir, I did.

And yes, I'm rather keen on Keeneland.

Toto, we're not in West Virginia anymore: the Breeders' Cup

Wow! is the only word that can capture the frenzied day at the races yesterday. A couple of months at Mountaineer did not prepare us for the fast pace and thick throngs of a Breeders' Cup day. We left our hotel in NJ at 9am and didn't return till after midnight -- tired but happy. This despite the fact that we learned once again that there are so very many ways to lose.

Other things I learned yesterday:

I really should've brought the winter coat. And gloves. And hat. The wind when we got off the train at Belmont was biting. Fortunately, I picked up a souvenir BC scarf after the first race. Of course, that meant that I missed Scrappy T running in the Discovery, but I did get to watch it (kind of) while I stood in line to pay for the scarf. The souvenir booth was encased in plastic sheeting which made the picture on the big screen a tad blurry, but at least I could hear the calls.

Mom was right: breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Especially on BC Day. I did get a chance to pick up a donut in the train station, but a couple of energy bars in my purse might have helped my betting strategies. Yes, food was available at the track, but I just couldn't bring myself to spend time in lines for food when I could be in line at the betting windows or in my wonderful seat gawking at the track, the post-parade, and the fellow attendees.

Everything is slower, except for the horses. There were extra trains running to Belmont, but of course, they were all full, so it took longer for them to empty. Then, the whole trainload had to get through the turnstiles. Then, they all stopped to buy programs. I had thought, for some insane reason, that we'd get off the train and walk right in. In reality, there was a crush of people at the gates, and by the time we got in, it was 11:45, and I didn't even have a Racing Form or program yet. I "handicapped" the first race while standing in line at the betting windows -- and missed the last page of past performances. Yes, the page that had winner Captain Squire on it.

This seemed to set a tone for the rest of the day.

I had planned on analyzing the post positions & jockeys in my leisure time at the track, but I know now that THERE IS NO LEISURE TIME AT THE BREEDERS' CUP. Fortunately, my husband and I had made our notes on the DRF advance guide. Unfortunately, we often screwed up when copying the post position numbers from the program to the advance guide. Consequently, my husband bet a trifecta with Host (1) instead of Leroidesanimaux (11) in the Mile, which we discovered while the horses were loading. (Of course, in the end, it didn't make much difference, since he didn't have Artie Schiller at all.)

And then there are the weird mistakes I made, like playing an exacta box in the Juvenile Fillies on the 1-5 and the 5-10, but not the 1-10. I just forgot it while playing the Daily Double and a little show bet on Sensation. So, Wild Fit (10) ran second to Folklore (1) and I'm standing there looking for my ticket -- the one I never actually bought. Ugh!

But reading saved the day! Because The Greatest Show on Turf featured a chapter on Andre Fabre and his BC success, I was high on Valixir in the Mile and Shirocco in the Turf. And because I read something good about Ace online, I picked him instead of Bago or Azamour for an exacta box with Shirocco. Yes! I hit a pseudo-quinella (aka exacta) that paid $296 and change. The sad news: I had four horses in that race circled in my notes. Yes, they ran 1,2,3,4. I really gotta learn to play the superfecta now and then.

Despite all of our mishaps, it was simply fabulous to be surrounded by so many people who were really, truly excited about the races. The people in attendance, as much as the horses on the course, made the day special. Though it was crowded, there was an underlying congeniality in the air. I talked with well-heeled dandies from Britain and a hard-nosed cop from Chicago and lots of big city folk from New York, and universally, they were as bright-eyed as kids at Christmas. And for me, a cheery meeting with fellow TBA bloggers Patrick, Jessica, Alan, and Brian was one of the high points -- as memorable in its way as my winning pick in the Turf.

All in all, it felt like a big frat party, with less beer, more horses, and a very big, very drafty frat house. Maybe, like many fraternities, horseracing's membership is dwindling, and its past seems more glorious than its future. But, as I learned yesterday, like all good fraternities, it can still throw a good party.

Almost heaven, sort of

My adventures at the track began with a wild jaunt to Belmont for the Belmont Stakes in June.

It was a grand day; the sun beamed down on a flock of fairly well-heeled folk as they milled about the grand old establishment. A fine field of horses, a busload of likeminded souls, and a few winning bets were all it took to hook me. I won a quinella in the 2nd race, and voila, I'm a horseplayer! I little appreciated the quality of the horses I was watching. Lost in the Fog, Limehouse -- I'd never heard of them, so couldn't truly appreciate their quality. And still, I had a great time.

After returning to my work-a-day life in Pennsylvania, I could think of no better way to spend the long, hot summer evenings than by visiting a racetrack. The closest location is in the Wild and Wonderful State of West Virginia at Mountaineer Race Track and Gaming Resort.
Though "Race Track" comes first in the name, in reality, "Gaming" in the form of the slots casino is what you actually see first. The track is tucked away behind the "resort" where the bing-bing-bing of slot machines can be heard everywhere. And likewise, the level of the racing you see is a step (or two, or three) down from the grand names that take the field each year at Belmont. The crowd is different, too; it includes more children, for one thing, and folks are drinking IC Light instead of $10 Belmont Breezes. There are no $60 seats in the grandstands, and you can see the finish line from all of the picnic tables. Horses run in $5000 claiming races, and the highest purse on a given night might be $20K. And yet... it's still a great way to spend an evening, especially after perusing The Right Horse: Winning More, Losing Less, and Having Great Time at the Racetrack by William Murray.

The Right Horse is a fine introduction to the track for those who have no experience playing the ponies. He explains the Daily Racing Form in detail and describes the various bets one can place without emphasizing the exotic bets that can be painful to a novice's pocketbook and ego. It's a gentle introduction to the game that aims to make the occasional visit to the track enjoyable. And it succeeds.