This year we had a table of 6 at the Carousel Restaurant, one of the half-dozen or so on-site establishments. Erica, myself, Meghan and Renee (two of Erica’s co-teachers), and long-time friends Berns and Frank made up this year’s group of merry-makers.
As I predicted last week, I shouldn’t have been gambling. Where-as I was able to slowly build a pile of winnings last week with mostly “safe” bets and a couple high-odds ponies, Saratoga on Travers Day once again lived up to its billing as the “graveyard of favorites.”
Here’s how it went last week:
Bet 6, get back 18.
Bet 12, get back 16
Bet 6, get back 10
Bet 10, lose
Bet 12, get back 14
And so on. Nothing great, just a solid day in which I turned $60 into $85.
Here’s how it went yesterday:
Bet 6, lose
Bet 12, lose
Bet 6, lose
Bet 6, get back 8
And so on. I think only two favorites won all day. We had horses winning that went off at 28-1, 30-1, 88-1, 18-1, etc. And not only that, the favorites weren’t even close! It’d be fine if some nag came out of nowhere to win, but at least the favorite came in second so I could get back some money on the ticket with a Place/Show payout. But noooooo, the favorite came in 6th. All. Fucking. Day. Long.
You want to know how NOT exaggerating I am? Check out race 4:
Yes, that’s a $1,293 Exacta, and a $19,482 trifecta. You don’t see that very often.
But WAIT! There’s more! Look at this fucking thing:
You’re looking at a $2,565 Exacta, a $105,914 Trifecta, and a $1,523,188 Superfecta!! That had the crowd buzzing for a good 20 minutes. As the PA guy was announcing the payouts, the laughter and applause grew louder and louder, reaching ovation levels as he slowly annunciated “one… million… five… hundred… twenty… three… thousand…”
Needless to say, I had none of those horses. Some lady a couple tables over did. The exacta.
Well, after 10 races of slow bleed, my $60 SAM card now worth $17, it’s Travers time.
I’m poring over the Racing form, checking out all the tip sheets I have, trying to find something that will point me to the right underdog. Any underdog. But I couldn’t find one, so I went with the favorites: #2 Colonel John (sired by Tiznow), and Pyro. I know, I should have just cashed the ticket as is, but that’s no fun. I bet $3 WPS for Colonel John, and $2 WPS for Pyro. Two dollars left on my SAM card. Ouch.
In one of the tightest races ever at the Travers (we’re talking ½ inch, maybe), Colonel John eeked out a win, and Pyro finished third. A $15 bet brought back $33.85, cashing me out with $35.85, or $25 down. It’s a wash on the year, and I had a hell of time playing. I’ll take that deal.
We cashed out our tab (another ouch, especially when it wasn’t an even split), and headed off to Berns’ car for a tailgate on the first turn. We try to get out there as soon as possible to watch the final race right on the rail. More hijinx, more drinking, more laughter. Then, off to Siro’s, the place to be after the track. It’s quite a feat that place has pulled off. Total beer-fest on the outside, and a world-class restaurant and bar on the inside. Seriously, last time I was there, 8 of us racked up a $1700 tab, but we may have overindulged, since dinner was on the guy who won $4500 at the track that day… Elk? Sure, bring us over an elk. And a couple ducks. Bring the whole fucking zoo over, while you're at it. Medium rare.
Did I mention babe city? Frank, Berns and I had the privilege of the company of the three hottest women in the place, of course. But let me tell ya, Saratoga + Travers + nice weather = Sundresses and Boobs and Legs and Double-Takes. Especially for the two single guys in the group.
Story of the night:
Frank got to Siro's after us, and as he was coming in, he noticed two attractive women just off to the side. He's walking around looking for us, and he happened to stop within earshot of the following conversation between them:
Woman 1: I gotta take a shit. Wanna come?
Woman 2: Sure.
(Ignore the audio here, the mic on my Q sucks. But Siro's was packed, and HOPPIN'!)
