Chapter 3 - A Day At The Races

Sunny Jim Fitzsimmons, aged dean of American horse trainers, once shook his head in amazement as he watched the crowds stream from the special trains at Belmont.

"They pour off trains," he said, "buy a tout sheet for a quarter or half a buck, and hustle inside to get down their bets. Some of them buy three or four of these tout sheets and how they ever arrive at a selection is beyond me.

"They'll bet on anything, too. You take a brewery horse and enter him in a race against Man-O-War, and you'll find hundreds betting on him."

Sunny Jim was not being as facetious as he thought. For at one track which has a rule that only owners of horses running there can claim horses from claiming races, an operator went out and bought a horse for $50. The animal had been running at minor tracks but so far had never seen the winner's circle except on a sight-seeing tour. As he paraded to the post, both he and his owner blinked when they saw by the "tote" board that $5,000 had been bet on this fugitive from a glue factory. After the race, the owner donated the horse to a riding academy where there was no danger that his speed would frighten any timid patrons.

Sunny Jim didn't tell all the story. For the chances are that the fans got loaded down before they hit the track. Most fans buy racing papers and scratch sheets as they go to the office in the morning so that they can begin to get confused as early as possible.

There's a good chance, too, that at the mid-morning coffee snack or in the barbershop, the fan was subjected to a barrage of advice, "inside information" and "straight from the feedbox" tips. Most of these amateur "experts** were men whose last excursion to the track put them in hock although they probably blamed it on a careless jockey, changing track conditions or shrewd manipulations by "those in the know."

During these conversations, practically every horse in the entire day's card gets a mention or two. That enables one of the "experts" to chide the fan the next day and remind him that, "I told you Sheriff's Delight was being primed for a killing."

If the fan goes to the track by train, he finds little red, green, pink, white, brown and every other color sheets are being hawked through the cars. Vendors boast about the six or seven winners the card picked yesterday and intimate that it was a very bad day for them. Today will be the real day.

The turfite who drives to the track is not neglected because in the parking lot or just outside card hawkers will be on hand to provide him with all the information he needs for a successful venture. Weighted down with all this printed matter, saturated with tips, gossip and "inside information," and bolstered by intuition and hunches, the fan is mentally fatigued by the time he is inside the track and ready for work.

The first order of business for most track visitors is to pick up a "daily double" ticket since those windows close 10 to 15 minutes before the first race. For $2, or any multiple thereof, the fan can take a flyer on the most difficult of ventures—the attempt to pick the winners of both the first and second races.

One of the races usually is the poorest of the entire card. It may be a maiden race—a race for horses that never won a race. Although one of them must win today, which of 12 or 14 such animals will nod to the judges is anybody's guess. Professional selectors, who must name choices for every race, are little better off than the average spectator because "peanut scrambles" cannot be handicapped.

The other race of "the daily double" may have 10 or 14 mediocre horses, some of which may have won before but whose performances are erratic as a rookie left-handed pitcher. That leaves the fan with the job of picking out one in each race and joining them in a combination. What the fan in this situation needs more than advice is a yardful of four-leaf clovers and a bin filled with horse shoes.

Many race-goers, however, jump blissfully into this situation but they act strictly from hunch about a combination of numbers and forget the horses. Their hunches range from combining the ages of their children to the numbers on the hat of the conductor of their special train. House, telephone, social security and any other numbers ever seen or heard of by the fan are drawn upon for inspiration. If the fan can convince himself he dreamed a combination, it permits him to square back his shoulders and bet with confidence.

Some fans solve the dilemma by taking the three consensus horses in some racing paper or general newspaper and criss-crossing them into nine combinations. They put up $18 and hope the results will enable them to declare a dividend. At times, the results are highly satisfactory, for such combinations have paid $150 and more.

On days when a long shot wins either or both of the two races, the payoff may come in box-car mutuels. "Daily double" payoffs have ranged to $4,000 and more which is all any man can expect with good grace from a $2 investment.

A few tracks offer other combinations for a quick "rags to riches" epic by the players fortunate enough to hit. Some tracks use a quinella under which the bettors must name the horses that will run first and second in a particular race. Agua Caliente in Lower California, Mexico, challenges players to pick the winners of six consecutive races. The wife of a navy civilian employe once romped away with entire pool of $11,180 because she was the only one to hit as many as five of the six winners. She admitted it was "pure luck" and that she selected them entirely by their names. The wife of a Hollywood television cameraman picked up $9,600 from the pool on another day.

Although the average player arrives at the track bowed down under "information"—printed and oral—he still keeps a sharp eye and ear out for anything that he believes might add to his store of knowledge. Actually, it is more likely to add to his store of confusion.

The track bulletin board notes such things as changes in jockeys, weight, or equipment to be carried by a horse. Most of these changes have no effect on the results, but the player sizes them up for hunches.

A change of jockeys is certain to send many players scurrying to their racing sheets in an effort to "interpret" the news. Unquestionably, a good jockey should be able to get more out of the horse than a mediocre rider, but most players overlook the fact that, after all, the horse must do the running. Eddie Arcaro once got into a hassle with the owner of a horse who instructed him to break fast, lie seventh or eighth around the club house turn, put a little pressure heading into the back stretch, take the horse in hand then, work his way up as they rounded the back stretch turn, take the inside on the last curve, grab the lead at the head of the stretch and let the horse draw out during the run to the finish line.

Arcaro finished a dull seventh. When the owner berated him for not riding to instructions, especially about taking the lead at the stretch turn, Eddie just retorted:

"What! And leave the horse out there!"

Last-minute jockey changes come about for many reasons. Jockeys get indisposed, develop toothaches, get shaken up' during a race, eat an extra piece of spinach and pick up a little more weight or decide they want an afternoon to go fishing. Sometimes a full-fledged rider is replaced by an apprentice so that the owner can claim an apprentice allowance and get three to seven pounds off the horse. Only at the finish line can it be determined whether the shift was the right answer. Switching from a jockey to an apprentice may at times benefit the horse but not the bettor.

The bulletin board may say that a horse will run with blinkers today. Blinkers are put on a horse to force him to look straight ahead only. Perhaps, in his last race, the owner believed the horse was frightened by some action at the side such as a blowing piece of paper or the motion of the arm of a spectator standing at the rail. Or maybe the horse didn't like it when another horse moved up beside him and looked him in the eye. The owner believes that today the horse will get down to business if there are no such distractions.

Some tracks even tell the type of shoes the horse will wear. Shoes are made in different weights to fit the condition of the track, and sometimes to fit the temperament and disposition of the horse.

The track loudspeaker also provides some players with what they hope will be a tip. If the public address system sings out that "Trainer Williams is wanted immediately in the paddock," hundreds of fans will turn quickly to their racing sheets to see what horse Williams has entered. Their fertile imaginations begin working and soon they conjure up a "hot tip" from what may be nothing more than a routine effort to locate a trainer or owner.

Odds change on the "tote" board every 90 seconds and many players rely upon these shifts to tell them what horse to play. The sudden dropping of odds on a horse starts a rumor that "smart money" is beginning to show up although most players have no vague notion as to who might be behind the "smart money." The abrupt change might be due to some half-inebriated gentleman stepping up and plunking down $200 or $300 on a nag whose name reminded him of an old girl flame, a drink concoction during last year's Mardi Gras, or of the little town where he was born.

By this time, the fan is overhearing a lot of conversation. His keen ears pick up a discussion between a little group. One is reminding the others that Flub Dub looks as if he is being "dropped into a spot today." How the speaker arrived at such a conclusion is often just as baffling to himself as it is to his listeners. The horse may have run the last time with a $4,000 claiming price and today he is entered for only $3,000.

The drop probably got him in a few pounds under his last weight. This may help him or it may be just a confession by the owner that the horse has been running over his head. If he doesn't win today, the owner may keep dropping him until he does click or until he is convinced the horse will never earn his board and bed.

Many fans like to troop out to the paddock where the horses are being walked around until the signal comes for the jockeys to mount and head onto the track. More hunches can be picked up at the paddock than at any other spot on the grounds.

An owner or trainer who scratches an ear, waves his program, whispers to a jockey or points with a finger is certain to start a flood of rumors and hopes for many players. One spectator says to a friend: "Poorhouse Nell certainly looks fit," and every player within ear-shot pricks up his ears and begins to look over the past performances of good old Nell.

The estimate of good old Nell's fitness probably was based on nothing more tangible than the fact the horse held her head high as she walked past, or tossed her mane or gave a little kick with a hind leg. The toss of her head, the speaker believed, showed her spirit and the little kick proved she was just raring to go. As she gallops last past the finish line, she may give another little toss of the head, too.

What really stirs a fan's blood is to see one of the horse's "official family" go to the paddock rail and talk to someone who promptly takes off. The player, reading everywhere but in Truth about all the last-minute money that is dumped into the mutuels, breaks into a stampede to reach the selling windows. Or if one of those in the paddock made a sudden dash, the player figures it*s worth a double bet.

A stable which intends to bet heavily has made its arrangements and does not depend upon one of its staff being a Paul Revere to cut his way through the crowd at the last minute. Human runners can get blocked, too, just as horses can be boxed up out on the track.

Hunches are not without their days. At Delaware Park, on the Saturday before Father's Day, Girl Crazy in the first race looked about as solid as a horse can in that type of race. The second race had a natural hunch for that day—My Daddy. Those who believed in hunches and combinations collected $301. Those who believed in hunches but not in combinations collected over $31 on My Daddy who normally would have closed at 25 to 1 or better.

At Hagerstown, two men, puzzling over the first race, came upon Trycook. The wife of one of the men had just hired a new cook and the two men looked no further because Dame Fortune had tossed a hunch right into their laps. They were rewarded with $800 for a $2 investment.

Admiral Bull Halsey, just back from the Pacific, relaxed at Santa Anita and didn't have to wait until a friend pointed it out to see that Toy Bull was a seaworthy hunch. His confidence was respected on the basis of 12 to 1. Then it was no trick at all to figure out that most of the profits should go back on Sea Spray which paid $6.60 to 1.

A woman who had never seen a race before went to a Chicago track with her husband who fancied himself to be a skilled judge of horse flesh. While he was in a corner copying sheets of figures onto his racing paper, his wife noticed that the names of her son and daughter were represented by horses in the first two races. She played them in the double and collected over $1,400. Presumably, the puncturing of his "scientific" pride did not prevent the husband from enjoying the rewards of his wife's hunch.

At Hialeah one Christmas Day the outrider came out for the feature race dressed like old St. Nick. And the horse immediately behind him was Santa Claus. Many fans thought this was too obvious a hunch, but hundreds of others willing to believe stormed the windows and the jolly old horse put $8.20 into their sock.

Any hunch undoubtedly will click sometime. The player who uses the first and second digits of his wife's age, real or claimed, to pick a daily double will find that one day he hits. And he may even live to spend it if his wife doesn't discover what system he used.

But hunches act in about the same way as the player who believed he wouldn't die until his number was up but still he refused to take a plane ride. He felt that while his number might not be up, that of the pilot might be overdue.

So a man who plays a hunch may find to his chagrin that hundreds of others are playing hunches in the same race. And on different horses.

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