The Beat Goes On

If a horseplayer is guaranteed a long life, it is also one with terminal amnesia. Class is in session.

"You're not going to tell us we missed a way to bet show in Saturday's Jim Dandy, are you? This is getting close to red-boarding."
Okay, I'll admit this one didn't quite occur to me as I was getting ready to watch the race, but it is another object lesson in looking at all the opportunities that are in front of you when you bet. And there's nothing wrong with learning something from a result. The tough thing is to apply the knowledge the next time you see a similar situation. Unfortunately, horseplayers do seem doomed to repeat their oversights. This is not selective memory, It is CRS. Can't remember shit.
"Lay it on us."
Saturday's Jim Dandy, another five horse race that looks like the result is preordained, right?
"Keep going."
Battle of the heavyweights. The Kentucky Derby winner Always Dreaming against the winner of the Preakness, Cloud Computing, meet in the Jim Dandy to settle a score. Sound familiar? Hype, hype hype. The place is electric. You can feel the excitement.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay. What I usually feel at the track is sweaty. And hungry."
They kept banging away at the "rematch" angle, right?  Todd Pletcher's horse who wins the Derby, then doesn't show up in the Preakness vs. young Chad Brown's horse who guts it out and beats Classic Empire in the Preakness.
"Okay, yes, that rematch."
Well, as any horseplayer knows by the time they put food in their mouths for dinner on Saturday, the rematch looked more like the George Foreman-Ron Lyle fight where the only person who spent any time standing in the ring was the referee. At least American Pharoah showed tremendous resolve and finished second in last year's Travers after being a spent bullet after going a mile and a quarter.
"What's your point?"
My point is, hyped, "rematch" races with small fields will generally turn out to have surprise results. In fact, small fields in general will surprise. When Cigar was trying to break Citation's record for consecutive wins he went into the Pacific Coast Classic against five rivals and was defeated by Dare and Go, an exacta I had, by the way. Paid $120 something as I remember. And that was with Cigar second.
Do you remember Proud Clarion? He won the 1967 Derby. At 30-1 he beat the great Damascus, who was later named the Horse of the Year.
"Jesus, how old are you? You couldn't have seen Man O' War run, did you."
No, but I once met a guy a long time ago who did.
Well, Proud Clarion starts his four-year-old season off at Aqueduct, in the Westchester Handicap, I think. Our mentor and patron saint of pace, Les, tells us Proud Clarion is a sucker bet today. So what if he won the Derby? That only means they played music during the post parade.
"Your point?"
The point is, how does he fit today? In those days a handicap race required the horse to carry something more than 118 pounds. Proud Clarion doesn't win. I think he's off the board. Not sure.
"So you don't remember everything."
No. But Proud Clarion runs 9 times that year and only finishes second twice. He's just out there burning money. He's a bum.
"Okay, okay, what's the great advice you have?"
First, don't listen to Andy Serling.
"Why not."
 Didn't he tell everyone the rail was "golden" on Saturday?
"Yeah, after the earlier races, Andy points out that inside speed is winning, nothing from the outer paths is coming in first, and Always Dreaming is going for the front since he's post position No.1."
Tell me, would you buy a suit from Andy Serling?
"The point then is..."
Listen to Paul Lo Duca, the former All-Star catcher for the Mets, who tells you the sport is a puzzle and it is up to you to figure it out. Think outside the box. Making picks is one thing. Money management is another.
Look at all the ways there are to bet the Jim Dandy, despite there only being five horses. When I started the only exotic bet was the Daily Double. One Daily Double. Guys would come to the track on their lunch hour, bet the Double and hope to win. The parking lot started to empty out from those tapped out after the second race.
I hate multi-leg races, so don't expect me to tell you to "single" anyone at any time. To win any decent money on the favorites you've got to back the favorites with decent money. Exactas with the favorites will pay squat, and triples with them on top will be meager. Even a triple with either one keyed will return lass than a meal at the Shake Shack.
"Okay, I'll ask. What's the play then, O great one."
Read my lips. Dime Supers. I've hit some of these, sometimes keying on top, or just playing four horses boxed for $2.40. The Assembled have seen Jose hit these things like ducks in a shooting gallery and leaving with significant jack. These guys love to tell you the "value" of the race. But do they tell you the "value" play?
And a stake race with five horses and a Dime Super in play, means you've only got to leave one horse out, right?
"Yeah, five minus one is four, but which one?"
Leave one of the favorites out. Twice.
"Huh?"
Play a boxed Super leaving Always Dreaming out, and play a another boxed Super with Cloud Computing Out. You only lose if both come in fourth or better. Play for more than a dime boxed, if you like. A 10 cent Super returns 5% of the $2 payout. A 20 cent Super returns 10% of the $2 payout. And so on. If both favorites come in fourth or better, your micro-bet goes down the drain. But at a 10 cent Super box, twice, the most you bet is $4.80. How much is a hamburger with fries and a soda?
"Five percent of a $2 payout is going to pay what? You can't see the probables."
Do you have to know everything? Racing is a surprise. Did you see what the $2 Super paid on the Jim Dandy?
"I have a feeling you're going to tell us."
$1,070. Can you figure five percent of that?
"Not quickly."
Well, figure 10 percent, can you?
"No."
Move the decimal over one to the left, then divide by two for the 5% payout. That means you divide $107 by 2 and come up with $53.50.
"Can't I just look at the board?"
Sure. But does $53.50 seem like a nice return for a $4.80 investment to you? I'm not telling you not to bet someone to win if you love them that much. I bet $4 to win on Zito's horse Giuseppe the Great. He goes off at 14-1 and finishes second. I get back ugatz. Maybe you loved Mott's horse on his birthday at nearly 9-1, who we know won, from the five path, closing, just like Andy said, right?
"You're being sarcastic."
Think of what the Super pays if Giuseppe wins, Good Samaritan is second, Pavel is third, and one of the other bums is fourth. The super will be a lot more than $1,070, and your 5% will be a lot more, all for the same $4.80 invested. Surprise.
"All I've got to say is, you've got some memory."
Some of it is all that's left.

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The End of the Affair

Well, not really the end, end. Just the end of Season 2. And there will be a Season 3, and, hold your remote, a Season 4! Season 3 will ostensibly feature more of Noah's daughter Whitney, and possibly Furkat, the sexist Frenchman who slaps Whitney in the last episode? Jeez, another piece of effluvia.

The only episode I've enjoyed of this series has been the last one, in Paris, with Juliette facing the death of her Alzheimer-afflicted husband, Etienne.

Of course Juliette has guilt. She's banging around with Noah while the old guy suffers and passes away. But Juliette, it is not your fault. EVERYBODY in this series has guilt. In fact, there is more guilt in this series than a penitentiary covering a 100 acres.

In the episodes leading up to the Season 2 finale, Helen is a mess, Allison is a mess, Noah is the biggest mess, and Helen's recently reunited parents are the absolute BIGGEST mess, claiming the blame for all of Helen's troubles. In fact, that pair is so guilt-ridden they ought to be investigated. Surely they robbed a bank or maybe even killed someone. They even have a panic room in the house! They need to be locked up in a therapy room. But they've already been there.

The last two parts of the season finale take place in Paris. Beautifully shot, and as much of an advertisement for tourism as the French could ask for.

The details are terrific. The solid, pre-war apartment with high ceilings, solid doors, and a warren of rooms that Juliette comes home to are a delight to view.

Juliette is the only character I have any liking for. The doe-eye, dimple-cheeked Swiss Actress, Irene Jacob, was born in 1966, making her near 50 when she was making 'The Affair.' Near 50 never looked so good. The hope is she keeps showing up. Noah can't be without a woman.

How does Season 2 end? Basically it ends with Noah in a cab in Brooklyn Heights, having just brought Whitney back from France, with no visible luggage and no place to stay. He doesn't know where to tell the cab driver to take him.

Where will Season 3 start off? Probably in a clothing store where Noah picks up the basics. His book must have sold really well. He never seems to be without funds. Just clothing.

And we never seem to be without being witnesses to guilt.

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Of A Certain Age

I was once on the phone with someone from work who I had never met, and never saw. We were discussing the layout for a sales presentation, and it occurred to me that woman I was talking to had to be significantly younger than me. I forget her name but I finally just interjected into the conversation that I think she and I grew up watching different movies. She didn't drop the phone because it was probably attached to her head, another sure sign of a generational divide, but she did get a good laugh out of it. I've since used the comment several times since when I thought it was appropriate.

Of course the opposite can be true. I can be dealing with someone who did see the same movies, watch the same TV shows, and probably saw their family TV carried out the front door because it had to "go to the shop." Worse than hearing your dog died.

I'm not quite as old as Robert McFadden, the NYT reporter who I'm told still shows up at a desk at 80, and who won a Pulitzer in 1996 for being the best rewrite man in the business, but we certainly are a Venn diagram with a good deal of intersecting years.

I'm sure today's obituary on June Foray, a actress who could be credited being the voice behind numerous cartoon characters, notable Rocky the squirrel, was an advance obituary transplanted from the morgue. June Foray was 99, and in general, when someone gets promoted from the morgue to one more life in front of us, the byline is usually Robert McFadden's. The nonagenarians are usually his.

I will boast a bit that I do a credible Bullwinkle the Moose voice imitation, so it would have been a joy to "talk" to Ms. Foray pretending to be characters from the cartoon 'Rocky and his Friends' and later 'The Bullwinkle Show.' I never knew Rocky was done by a woman, but when I hear his voice in my head it makes sense. He does have a bit of a high pitch, as if his nuts are being squished.

Mr. McFadden's obituary is a six column valentine to June Foray and her part in bringing cartoon voices to prime time television. The six columns take up two-thirds of the page and are complemented by four photos, which look great in color when viewed online. I'm sure Jeff Roth, the custodian down in the Times morgue, had fun digging out those photos. Now he has to refile them, something he admits in the documentary film 'Obit' that he is way behind on.

As an online bonus, and something that enhances journalism, is a link to some episodes. There are people at work today who are goofing off on the computer, or at home, who are not yet in the yard gardening as planned.

Watching and listening to some of the YouTube videos that you just can't stop playing following the online links,  you listen to June and Bill Scott talk of where the voices came from. Rocky was meant to be an all-American boy. And he certainly sounds like one of the Hardy brothers, perhaps not yet having crashed through puberty.

Bill Scott or June explains that Red Skelton thought the Bullwinkle lispy sound came from something he did. And Red Skelton was probably right, because Bullwinkle does sound a bit like Red Skelton doing his Gertrude and Heathcliff seagull bit. I never thought of that until now.

Read the caption under the photo of June Foray and three others, Walter Schuman, Dave Butler and Stan Freberg recording a version of , 'St. George and the Dragonet.' It is not Dragon. It is Dragonet. And if you listen to it on iTunes and download as I just did, you will quickly realize the bit is a spoof of the show 'Dragnet,' something else that you have to be of a certain age to remember.

It is noted that 'Rocky' ran on ABC, then NBC from 1959 to 1964. There are years in there I was in high school and some of the first questions we asked each other on Monday morning was did you see 'Rocky and Bullwinkle last night? I remember the show running at 7 P.M. on Sundays.

Mr. McFadden was likely out of college then, but the guess he was just as tuned in as the rest of us adolescents. Rocky and Bullwinkle was a cartoon for all ages.

There was a segment of 'Rocky and Friends' that featured two characters, Sherman and Peabody. They operate the 'Way Back Machine.'

They are assisted in the 21st century by Mr. McFadden and that guy stuck in the cellar pulling stories and photos.

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The Fountain of Aging

It is good to see that there are those who might have advice for living a long life, who actually do live a long life. It is not always that way.

Remember Euell Gibbons? The nuts and berries guy who was a proponent of what we would now call a trail mix bar?  A natural diet it was called. He wrote a book called 'Stalking the Wild Asparagus.' I remember seeing him on the Carson show.

Well, Euell didn't make it to the natural retirement age of 65, passing away at 64 in 1975, having been transported to the hospital, but arriving DOA. No cause mentioned in his obit. Maybe it was embarrassment.

And Dr. Robert Atkins, whose diets are still being marketed under his name, unfortunately didn't necessarily die of poor health, but rather a traumatic accident (blunt impact of head with epidural hematoma) when he slipped on an icy pavement in New York City and passed away in 2003 at the age of 72.

The bluntness of Mayor Bloomberg at the time had Hizzoner telling a group of firemen that Dr. Atkins may have hit his head, but he was "fat" at the time. Some diet, the food at a fund raiser at his Hampton place was "inedible." The mayor later issued a public apology to his widow when she took to the airwaves to draw attention to the mayor's insensitivity.

Anyone who remembers the best-selling book on running by James Fixx will also remember the great book cover of 'The Complete Book of Running' that showed off the guy's enviable muscle-toned legs. The cover alone probably helped turn the book into a bestseller. Running will improve your life. It will help make you live longer.

Mr. Fixx passed away at 52 in 1984, not really from from running, but from an undiagnosed heart ailment that caught up to him as he was completing a workout in bucolic Vermont. Running might be good for you, but only if the rest of you is already in good shape.

And you really have to be of a certain age (read: old) to remember Vic Tanny, the founder and owner of a chain of health gymnasiums nationwide, before Jack LaLanne dominated that scene and showed us all what 20 pounds of fat looked like if you brought it home from the butcher shop. Vic lived to a perhaps respectable 73, passing away in 1985, but hardly as long as Jack did, who passed away at 96 in 2011.

Of course this is a biased list, limited by my memory, but it can prove that even though you might think and act healthy, nothing is guaranteed. Big surprise there, right?

But with the passing of Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara we can add at least one more name to a health advocate who did live a long life.

The passing of Dr. Hinohara was noted in yesterday's NYT obituary section. Dr. Hinohara achieved the age of 105. The obit's headline read: 'Dr. Hinohara, Who Taught Japan How to Live Long, Dies at 105.'

The good doctor gets six columns. This is like a 21-gun salute, and why not? According to his life's story, Dr. Hinohara is partly responsible for the longevity of the Japanese people, where women born today can now be expected to live to 87; men to 80.

With a 7-year spread over men, men's obituaries in Japan will no doubt be filled with the statement that they are "survived by" their spouse. How do you say Alan King in Japanese?

An outquote in the obit tells us he was 'an advocate of late retirement, regular checkups and fun.'

The last part is obviously where Japanese life and American life differs by about the width of the Pacific Ocean. It is "fun" that probably does Americans in sooner than the Japanese. We probably have waaaay too much of it involving dangerous activities. Make your own list of what they might be, but I wonder how many people in Japan carry firearms, go on amusement park rides, drive like batshit on highways, or eat at McDonald's.

There were many health habits that the good doctor developed, one of which was to take more than 2,000 steps a day. Now you tell me, where is someone in this country going to be able to put that one into practice? People here step in and out of their vehicles, and loudly complain if the walk from the parking lot to the front door is too many steps.

Dr. Hinohara wrote a best-seller at 101, which was only four years ago. He wrote a health advice book in 2001, 'Living Long, Living Good.'

If Social Security is already an endangered entitlement program in this country because baby boomers are living longer, then it would not be wise to translate any of the good doctor's book into English.  Our economy simply can't afford it.

Mr. Sam Roberts in his obituary provides several lines from a Robert Browning poem that Dr. Hinohara considered to be influential in the development of his outlook on life. Lines from the poem 'Abt Vogler' evoke the world encircled by a circle so big that when we look up only an arch is visible.

Hey, maybe McDonald's is good for you.

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What's the Code?

Anyone who reads these postings and has a decent memory, should remember the story about the woman who was accused of pulling the plug out of her fiance's kayak, leading to his drowning. The story's been in the news for a while now, and the case was finally headed to trial in upstate New York.

There were two postings, Kayak Plug Popping and ICD-10. Since in my prior life I spent decades in the health insurance industry I asked what ICD-10 would be assigned to someone pulling out a kayak plug and causing someone's death? ICD-10 International Classification of Diseases comprehensively lists every imaginable ailment, as well as has a code for every imaginable cause of death, My theory was the committee might need to meet.

Well, I was right about someone needing to meet, but it won't be the ICD-10 committee. It will be the New York State Penal Code folks.

Today's NYT carries the story that the defendant's legal team and the Orange county prosecutors reached an agreement to have the defendant plead guilty to a reduced charge of criminally negligent manslaughter, down from the charge of second-degree murder.

Apparently, as the August trial approached, the prosecutors were starting to doubt that the weight of their evidence was going to be enough to convict. Sure they had a confession, but it was reached after 11 hours of questioning. Their research showed that the victim kayak's buoyancy would not he totally compromised enough if the plug were pulled. Further, both the victim and the defendant were not wearing life preservers, and both had been drinking.

The prosecution was also doubtful that the penal code was defined enough to include death caused by kayak plug pulling. Thus, the likely need for the committee to meet and try and get this cause of death more clearly defined. They were afraid the jury might acquit.

The Orange County district attorney, David M. Hoover explained, "there's little direct precedent, if any, in New York for a homicidal conviction for removing a plug from a kayak."

Given the plea deal and the defendant pleading guilt to the criminally negligent manslaughter charge, Ms. Graswald is expected to be eligible for release later this year, after already serving 27 months of incarceration. Both the defense and the prosecution feel justice has been served.

Obviously there is nothing that can ever bring the victim, Vincent Viafore, back, no matter what legal proceedings befall the defendant, Angelika Graswald. Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman are still murdered, no matter what O.J.'s trial accomplished.

This has an almost Alfred Hitchcock ending. A murder has been committed, but the defendant skates away with a light punishment.

As in any "accident," particularly on the water, there are things to do when you go kayaking. Always wear your life preserver, and don't drink and paddle. And be wary of your fiance who has just insured your life for 6 digits.

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A Watery Hoax

My friend was over Sunday afternoon and mentioned that later in the day Michael Phelps was going to be swimming against a shark to see who was the fastest. I told him I had heard about it, but asked, "how are they going to get the shark to swim in a straight line? And not eat Phelps in the process?" My friend said he didn't know.

My imagination took over, and I asked my friend if they were going to somehow rig a "bunny" like what they use at greyhound tracks to get the hounds to chase the mechanical rabbit that shoots up the rail and acts as an inducement for the dogs to try and catch it. My uncle was a habitue of any track where you could win or lose money who once told me that when he was in Florida he saw one of the greyhounds actually catch the bunny. It wasn't pretty.

So, what were they going to do, rig a likeness of a human to something they were going to fly overheard to convince the shark that dinner could be had if only he would follow it in a straight line and catch the Homo sapien? And of course hopefully not veer off to the side and make a meal of Michael? The announcer was going to get the race started by telling the crowd, "heeeeere comes the dinner?"

We're both old enough to have immunity from publicity stunts. Neither of us reminded the other that maybe I should set the DVR so that we could see it, since dinner, or dessert was going to get in the way. Thus, neither of us tuned in.

So on Monday when it was revealed that Phelps actually did not swim against a real shark, but rather a computer simulated shark, my friend and I just smiled that the selling of snake oil will never stop.

The reaction to the stunt was fiercer that the jaws of a shark, with people complaining that they expected s real shark to be competing. The producer of the History Channel show replied that, "did anyone really think we were going to endanger the life of the world's greatest swimmer?"

Hell yeah. Isn't that's what TV is about? Watching cars pile up against racetrack walls, bursting into flames? Doesn't that Nik Wallenda guy really risk his life, despite the presence of a net that we don't see, when he high-wire walks across chasms? Didn't TV chase a white Ford Bronco as O.J. was evading the police years and years ago? Didn't that crackpot daredevil Evel Knievel at least really put himself in a homemade rocket and attempt to fly over the Snake River? We expect TV to deliver a snuff film.

So, in the aftermath of the event the NYT and the WSJ  treated their readers to their reports. The Times pretty much handled it as exposing it as a publicity stunt that duped the public into believing Phelps was going to be in the water and swimming against a Great White. Jaws himself. The headline alone gives you the news: "Michael Phelps 'Raced' a Shark. Kind Of. Not Really." It was a possible maybe.

Video of the "contest" shows the shark leaping out of the water just at the finish line, a sort of aquatic fist pump, I guess. The online version of the story is interspersed with Tweets from people who are expressing their dismay, as well as from those who ask did anyone really think Phelps was going to be placed in harm's way? There is even a Tweet from Michael himself saying he wants a rematch, but next time in warmer water. Let's not hold our breath.

The WSJ handled the story in the most unique tongue-in-cheek fashion imaginable. They created an A-Hed piece in today's paper that is a purported recounting of the story from Fred the Shark who witnessed the while thing and button-holed Jason Gay, the Journal's sports columnist, and complained with passion about the event, and how it was abusing the reputation of sharks.

Jason Gay is a unique sports reporter. He's not a beat reporter for the Mets, Yankees, or other of the numerous New York teams. He would rather be on a bike covering the Tour de France than anything else, but found that he needs to stay home and help rise a family

I remember seeing Mr. Gay when I was in the audience at a "The Crowd Goes Wild" TV show a few years ago. The show was meant to be a somewhat off-beat Fox sports show that was hosted by Regis Philbin. It ran for nearly a season, but really was just too inane to continue. On the last telecast, Regis sighed that he wished he would still get to do a sports show.

Jason was one of the regular panelists and greeted the audience when he was introduced with a big circular wave. I saw him in the studio lobby before the show started (it was broadcast live) and he is a somewhat tall, slender fellow who has a bit of goofiness about him that signals he wants you to know that sport things shouldn't really be taken too seriously.

Mr. Gay constructs Fred the Shark's monologue along the lines of a shark whose next step might be to start a Shark Defamation League and perhaps an Actors' Guild scale  for even compensation with humans.

Actually, the whole episode reminds me of the start of 'Guys and Dolls' where Nathan Detroit is trying to get Sky Masterson into a sucker bet that Nathan already knows the outcome of regarding the sale of Mindy's (read Lindy's, long closed) strudel over cheesecake.

Sky is not named Sky Masterson for nothing. He's been known to bet "sky's the limit" on a roll of the dice. Thus, his nickname.

Sky patiently listens to Nathan's proposition bet and tells Nathan a story about the advice his father gave him as he set out in the world. His father warned him to never take a bet against someone who claims they can make the Jack of Spades jump out of a sealed deck of cards and squirt cider in your ear. "Do not bet against this man, for he will surely make it happen and you will have an earful of cider."

Or, in the case of The History Channel's shark race, an earful of salt water.

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A Special Circle is Reserved

A horseplayer is guaranteed a long life. That's why you see so many "older" people at the racetrack. Sure, there are some younger ones wearing snappy looking hats and drinking from flutes of champagne at the rail, but they're just the replacements for the overall older crowd that will one day shuffle off to the window in the sky, removed from the premises by the unseen giant who will have tallied the score and figured that they have suffered enough making the same mistake and missing the same opportunities they have for decades. A horseplayer has an extremely long learning curve. It lasts a lifetime.

Okay class, when should you make show wagers?
"When they print the name of the horse on the ticket and you want a souvenir?"
Please leave the room.
"You like the horse's name and you give the ticket to your girlfriend in the hopes she'll love you tonight for your thoughtfulness?"
Please join the other guy in the hall.
God, you are a pathetic bunch. You bet show when you are presented with a small field and there is a horse taking so much money in the show pool that if that horse were to run out of the money, the payoffs would be so skewed that you'd be viewed as a mathematical genius and on the short list for an international award when your relatively tiny investment and minimal downside has the chance to be rewarded with astronomical payouts way in excess of the risk you're taken.
"Could you repeat that?"
Read my book, will you.

As anyone who follows the Sport of Kings knows, Arrogate was running in yesterday at Del Mar's TVG San Diego Handicap. a Grade II affair that the Hall of Fame trainer Bob Baffert was perhaps shamefully using as a tuneup for the far more lucrative Pacific Coast Classic later in the meet. Class, first beware of tuneup races. Especially those that might be the "Dubai bounce."

The track management was distributing posters: Arrogate The World's Greatest Horse. Show wagering was being allowed, in what was surely going to create a minus show pool because there wasn't going to be enough money bet on the other four horses to show to cover the legal minimum payout of $2.10. Arrogate was going off at 1/20, which meant a win payout of $2.10, with $2.10 being "guaranteed" for place and show payouts.

"So, the bet is to play Arrogate to show and collect a guaranteed 5% return."
Do you know how to swim?

Whenever these "sure" things present themselves, it is wise to watch the board and see how many schnooks there are out there who think a show wager on a horse race is going to help refund the pension plan and make it whole at a rate of return of 5%.

In fact, after yesterday's race, the Harbor Police should be dragging the waters around San Diego looking for floaters who might have thought no one will notice the missing pension funds for a few minutes. "I'll have it back in no time."

No, class, the way to handle situations like those that presented themselves before the start of the San Diego Handicap yesterday was to notice that $1.3 million was bet on Arrogate to show, with the other horses not even having as much as my credit card limits bet on them.

I've seen the out-of-money thing a few times. Once, when I was with someone at Belmont who had an across-the-board bet on Waya in the Beldame against It' s In The Air"  I chided them on being foolish to do that, since a solo win bet on Waya was the play.

Waya did win, and I did collect, but nowhere near as much as what their $6 bet turned into, approximating $100, when It's In The Air ran out of the money. Waya paid $8 and change to win. You can be too smart in this game.

There was finally an occasion I did score with a show wager that paid gangbusters when Allan Jerkens's Emma's Encore beat a Rudy Rodriquez-trained horse that the bridge jumpers were out on the ledge. I forget the horse's name, but Emma's Encore won, and returned the nicely lopsided place and show payouts. My oldest granddaughter Emma was over that afternoon, and the bet was as much a hunch bet as one that I truly believed Alan Jerkens was going to beat a Rudy Rodriquez-trained former claimer.

So class, with yesterday's San Diego Handicap identifying itself as the show bet of the century, what should the play be?
"Bet $2 to show on the other four horses in the race. If Arrogate comes in the money, big deal, you collect $2.10 twice and lose a maximum of $3.80 on the $8 wager. The downside is a loss of $3.80, with a significant upside that might approach a $100 payout on skewed show payouts."
That's right.
After the gasps settled and Arrogate came home fourth with what looked like cement shoes on, the payouts lit up the board.

Accelerate                                    17.60  32.60  22.00
Donworth                                              119.80  67.40
Cat Burglar                                                        38.20

"Wow, I see. For an $8 investment with a maximum of $3.80 downside, you would collect $127.60! Now that's a rate of return!'"

You will go far, young man.
"So tell me, how much did you score on your show wagers yesterday."
Next question.

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There are strange things done in the Del Mar sun
  By the men who moil for cash;
The horsey trails have their secret tales
  That would turn your face to ash;
The tote board lights have seen queer sights,
  But the queerest for some wasn't funny,
When the evening race had a front-running pace
  And Arrogate ran out of the money.

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