Many readers of the ESPN horse race sites probably think that my staff of six goes through the email and answers the praise and directs the rest to the intern.
You're looking at my staff.
I get the best email in the world through this site and read it all and do with it what is necessary. For openers, horse players are more articulate than most gamblers or most people, for that matter. That's because the act of handicapping a horse race is one of the few times remaining in this lifestyle when a person is alone with his or her thoughts.
Almost everybody but horse players seem frightened by their thoughts, quick, the ear phones, the cell, hurry, call up a picture of anything: just don't let me have to think! At a point in the not too distant past, the inability to sit quietly with your thoughts for a reasonable period of time was considered to be a little insane. In the underrated, creepy and somewhat obscure movie 'Magic,' starring Anthony Hopkins and Ann-Margaret back in her day, the lunacy of one character was confirmed by a character's inability to sit quietly for a couple of minutes. Rent it, you'll jump twice, once, six inches into the air.
An email typical of the beauties I get arrived this week from a horse player in the south who went to the races and had a favorite jockey sign his Racing Form. The jockey was extremely hospitable and signed with a smile and a kind word -- thanks for the interest and support.
The horse player then placed a nice-sized wager on this jockey's mount. What horse player doesn't have a flair for the dramatic: get an autograph, bet the jockey, collect at the windows.
Trouble was, the horse ran like it was no special occasion at all, finishing toward the back.
Given the autograph and the sizeable wager it had seemed to encourage, the horse player felt the need for a big fat beer after the depressing loss. While ordering, he noticed somebody who seemed remotely familiar at the other end of the bar. Wait just a minute-- he scooted closer. It looked like the jockey who had autographed the Form! That person was drinking a jumbo beer. The horse player whispered to somebody nearby and asked who that man with the beer was. He was told it was in fact the jockey who had signed his Form. That jockey had more racing to do on the card, and lost them all. As the horse player left the track on what was to have been his extra special day, he tossed his signed Form onto some beer cups in a trash can.
Sometimes I get smart suggestions aimed at improving the future of the sport; sometimes I get tips on horses in an email and try to bet $2 whenever possible.
Not all these tips drop 20 lengths back and finish seventh. Two weeks ago, a tout from a reader in New York dropped 20 lengths back and rallied wildly, weaving in and out of horses like a dog around posts in an obedience course. This one finished third by the slimmest of margins and paid $7-something, which beat watching 'CSI: Miami.' But then, what doesn't.
The way the CSI actor David Caruso is all the time yanking off his shades and saying fortune cookie things-- my plan is to keep watching until his character, Horatio Caine, is stomped to within an inch of his TV life at the end of an episode, and then never watch again-- remember him just that way, wheezing, gasping, his eyes flickering. I will miss the way the women dress on CSI: Miami. Do people unbutton their blouses to the waist at your workplace?
Yeah?
Well, where's that?
Continuing with the team-like spirit that exists among horse players: On Nov. 4, on the Breeders' Cup web site on ESPN.com, I will send out blogs throughout horse racing's biggest day. Blog is short for web log. What isn't shortened on the web. Blogs will be sent before and during the Breeders' Cup races and Pick Six puzzlements. These blogs figure to fall somewhere between celebrations and SOS's.
Write to Jay at jaycronley@yahoo.com