Monday was Memorial Day. Or at least what is now Memorial Day, observed on Monday before what was the actual date itself, May 30th. Decoration Day is what I remember it being called.
I've been at the track before on Memorial Day and was initially confused by the flag flown at half-staff, only to learn that that is protocol. It starts at half-staff to honor the veterans, and then is raised to the top at noon.
In what is now nearly 50 years of going to the races, having started at Belmont in 1968 on Belmont Day, the changes are apparent. As is what is the same. The Met Mile used to held on Memorial Day. A marquee race for older horses that would be used by some trainers as a prep for the Belmont Stakes, despite the close dates. And there have been horses who have won both. Todd Pletcher did it with Palace Malice in 2004; Woody Stephens did it with Conquistador Cielo in 1982, and Eliot Burch did it with Arts and letters in 1969.
The Met Mile is also when I stepped up my game considerably to bet $50 to win on Forego in 1974, considering him to be the mortal lock. Well, Heliodoro Gustines took the big gelding through torrid opening fractions, he tired, and Arbees Boy won, paying somewhere near, or just over $100 to win.
I was devastated. And because of the long shot finishing second, Forego's place price wasn't all that bad. I never again $50 to win on anything. My place had been with the $2 bettors (or now $4 and $6) and that's where I've remained. Know your limits.
Since I was solo on Monday I roamed around. I went down to the paddock a few times, sat on the second floor, as well as the third floor, and almost wished Sheila Rosenblum 'Good Luck' when I spotted her on the escalator going up as I was going down to the paddock. Sheila is of course the principal behind Lady Sheila Stable. Her horse Holiday Disguise won the $200,000 Critical Eye Stakes. I ran 1-3 in the exacta, one of my tough beats of the day.
Just as you come out of the Clubhouse doors to go to the paddock there is a path to the Racing Secretary's office. Looking to left at the top of the path was the spot where 40 years ago my wife spread out a blanket while our 8 month-old daughter Nancy crawled around, laughing at everything. A lot of people stopped to enjoy her laughing. There is now a giagundo shrub in the spot, and no room for a baby and a blanket.
A little further down that path is a plaque set on a small rock pedestal. I don't remember this plaque, so I took a look. It is the photo used at the top of this post. It is a dedication to the four chaplains who in WW II gave up their life jackets as their torpedoed troop ship U.S.A.T. Dorchester was sinking in 1943 and the supply ran out. They went down with the ship.
When I collected stamps as a kid I remember the 3¢ commemorative stamp that was issued in 1948. An American Legion Post had a hand in placing the remembrance, fitting Memorial Day. The NYT fairly recently ran a story on the church in Kearney, New Jersey that commemorates the chaplains each year. One of the chaplains, Rev. John P. Washington served at St. Stephen's before volunteering for the war.
So, how did my day at the races go? During the week I got an email from NYRA promoting their Mystery Voucher Day—register online, print the receipt, take it to the track on Monday and receive a betting voucher that could be worth up to $1,000. No cost. I'm in.
So, here I am before the start of the races, walking around with my printout, taking it over to the table that looks strongly like the Board of Elections has a designated polling place at Belmont, present my piece of paper, where upon my name is crossed off a pre-printed list. ID is requested, and then the woman behind the desk reaches into a small box of lottery-style tickets, fanning 5 or 6 of them in front of me, and asks me to "pick one."
After asking her if she had anything up her sleeve, I picked a card. The next step was to scratch off the silver foil, lottery-ticket-style, and see what amount lurks underneath, If a winner, take it over to the other table, and get your voucher matching that amount.
I played my own drum roll in my head, scratched, and revealed a $20 value under the foil. I happily told the people at the other table that I've been going to the races now for 50 years but have never been this far ahead before the first race. The woman told me to turn it into $100. I said I'd be happy with $30. It was the last time I was ahead for the day. Ten races Skunked. This has happened before. It's never fun.
I had some tough beats, but when in the 9th race I lost by a nose at 5/1 to the favorite, I was fairly sure the day was not mine to have. A third place finish in the 10th did nothing for my finances, so I left, uncharacteristically not hitting even the last race.
Fifty years of racing and I'm still coming back. Handicapping and starting every effort off fresh. In all that time, do I have any regrets? Of course. One.
Perhaps it was in the 80s sometime. I didn't stay for Bob Hope one year when he was performing after the races. I still kick myself. I wouldn't even stay for Bob Hope.
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