WEDNESDAY: Interview with 2013 #Huddie King Brian Nadeau

I know, I know. I said that Monday’s blog was going to be the last one for awhile. I lied. Consider Monday’s blog a false finish. You see, I can’t let an event like Brian Nadeau — such an important character on the blog — winning the #Huddie contest go unremarked upon. What is #Huddie you might ask? A terrific, semi-underground, twitter-propelled, meet-long Saratoga horse picking contest that has been the ruin of many a poor boy, and God, I know I’m one.

They say you shouldn’t hang around the racetrack with people you don’t want to see win. That’s about as close to a racetrack truism as you’ll get. There’s a select group of us at the Paddock Bar who sometimes play as partners but always want to see each other win. Brian is part of that group. We first met many years ago when we were both working for The Saratoga Special. I was analyzing races, he was chasing down quotes. Quite sensibly, within a few years he was analyzing races and I was off writing books. Books, incidentally, which featured another kind of false finish.

Everybody knows I fancy myself the Barbara Walters of the degenerates. So here, without further ado, my interview with 2013 #Huddie King, Mr. Brian Nadeau:

So this year’s Huddie contest came right down to the wire. Tell me how it went down.

It’s kind of funny that it came down to the Hopeful and I was pretty fortunate, because I think somehow I was the only person in the entire contest who picked Strong Mandate. And it’s easy to say after he ran off the screen, but I didn’t really understand how that could be. In fact, I thought he was a real wiseguy horse, who a lot of people would have picked. I used him as a block as much as anything else.

I picked him for several reasons, most notably I had a big note on the horse out of his maiden win: “8/17 Sharp speed, well within himself, widened on cue midstretch, straight as a string; new horse with blinks, should only get better with more ground.”

I had heard positive word about the runner-up in there, a nice Asmussen prospect, so I knew that Strong Mandate must be kind of nice if he drilled him that easily. Plus, it was vintage Lukas, in that the horse didn’t raise a hoof in his debut but added blinkers and ran off in his next start. Throw in a dream post in the Hopeful, good breeding for the wet, and a field, quite frankly, that I didn’t think was very strong, and Strong Mandate was a 5-star tout for me.

How would you describe your general approach to the Huddie contest?

Most days I don’t really think I had much of an approach to tell you the truth. Every single horse I picked was a BUZZ horse (one I picked for our Horse Player Now product) that I had a trip note on. I didn’t handicap one horse or one race. I mean, at the end of the day you have to pick fast horses who run well. There were two days I tried to use strategy.

One was when I had only one pick left on a Sunday on the second to last weekend. I had a horrible first two days with seven picks. That’s when I used Ready Signal, who was the longest of four BUZZ horses I had that day. The other day was the final day, when I had three picks and was close to the lead going in. I wanted to pick up some cash early, so I used Inaflash at 8/5 in the opener and she ran 2nd. Then I wanted to come up with someone I knew no one had, so I used Mama Zee, who didn’t run much in the 5th at about 15-1. Strong Mandate was a 100% no-brainer play for me when he popped into my Stablemail Friday afternoon, and I thought I could use him as a block at the least if I was already in the lead.

Honestly, I’m not even sure I played it right the last week, I’m kind of new to all this “game theory” stuff. In hindsight, I might have tried to pick up a few more dollars with logical winners, since it was pretty obvious the contest was going to be decided by a few dollars. We kind of scoff at 9/5 winners, but those are $10-$12 contest horses and as you know those dollars come in handy at the end.

Yeah, don’t rub it in. I was advising a friend on a ticket and I thought we were sitting great, eight picks going into the last day. Only problem is that while several fired, none won. We picked well, but they didn’t run quite well enough.

I thought the way you guys played it was awesome. You needed to get lucky in the sense of not having anyone else score out the first three days of the weekend, which happened, and then you were sitting in the garden spot entering Monday. I woke up Monday morning expecting you to win and I think, if I’m in the same position next year, I’d do what you guys did. I thought it was an expert approach. All you can do is put yourself in the best possible spot in this game, which I thought you did this weekend. It doesn’t always work out, but you can’t win if you don’t put yourself in that spot to begin with.

Other than the obvious — winning — what did you like about playing in Huddie and about contests in general?

I take a lot of pride in winning this contest. There are a ton of SHARP guys in this, industry guys, guys who devote a large amount of time to this game and guys I have a ton of respect for, so for me to outlast them all was pretty cool. Don’t get me wrong, the money is awesome, but the thrill of winning itself is a damn close second. Over the past two years I think I’ve stumbled upon 10-12 people I didn’t know who were in this contest, so it’s kind of taken on a life of its own. So to win it is pretty sweet.

Did you have a specific monetary goal every week and / or overall? Or were you more playing day to day?

I can’t say I ever had a dollar amount in mind. I just wanted to pick fast horses. You and I talked a lot early in the meet about the contest and I always said you can win this by banging out 4-1s all day. And while that’s right in theory (a 2-1 average would have likely won this year) it’s just impractical because you need a bomb or two to make up the difference because of the inevitable losers and it’s still not easy to pick 2-1’s consistently, especially at Saratoga. So I just used whoever popped up in my Stablemail, while leaning to the longer prices if I had multiples horses on one day or over eight on the weekend.

What was your toughest beat of the meet?

Toughest beat? You’re seriously going to ask me that when you stood 7-feet away from me and watched it? A car crash in slow motion. Clearly it was Moreno, for a million reasons. For weeks before I told anyone who’d listen he was going to win and I gave that horse out to our clients, so it would have been a huge coup for me if he won. I didn’t just like Moreno because speed was good Travers Day. It’s a sick game, this sport we love, because I was 1000% right in why I loved him yet I was still essentially wrong, because he didn’t win.

As for the actual case for the horse, I had a huge note on him after the Jim Dandy, I thought he ran huge: “7/27 Rail speed, forced to quicken by eventual winner through VERY snappy 2nd quarter, overhauled early stretch, ran on gamely, tired late; sneaky good two-turn debut (since blinkers were added).”

He’s bred to run long, that was never going to be an issue. And then, the more I thought about it, the more I figured he’d get loose over a speed-favoring track because they just expected he’d come back to them. I knew Verrazano wanted no part of 10, so he wasn’t going to press and Palace Malice had just beat Moreno handily, so why would he press him? I got a kick from Shug’s quote after the race where he said something like “I never thought they would go that slow early.” Really? Did he think they would go faster than the 47 and change Moreno went in the shorter Jim Dandy? That quote really cracked me up. That one still stings and will for some time.

As a trip/notes handicapper, how do you balance the horses you find with the fundamentals? I found when I was doing a lot of notes that it greatly reduced the amount of actual objective handicapping I was doing, sometimes to my overall detriment. How do you find a balance? Or, do you find you come up with enough good notes horses that fundamentals take a backseat and you end up with an edge on notes horses regardless?
I love this question because you’re right, it’s the give and take of the trip ‘capping versus the overall paper ‘capping. I’m going to be honest, unless I’m sussing out a Pk4 for clients on a Saturday or playing one myself, or Pk6’ing, I don’t handicap that much anymore. I simply rely on my eyes. Like I said, every pick in the Huddie pool was a trip horse.

A lot of people will say “Well, if you combined your trip horses with handicapping it could be even more lethal.” And, on the face of it, that’s a very sane argument. But how often do you get good looking horses on paper at 27-1 like Ready Signal? In-form, clean horses on paper are 4-1, not 27-1. And if you handicap too much, you probably say something like “Why the hell do I like Ready Signal, she was just beaten a furlong and a half last time?” And then you don’t play Ready Signal. And then you get sick when she wins for fun at 27-1.

The one thing I will do, to a certain extent, is handicap a race if I have more than one horse pop up. Other than that, I trust my eyes, no matter what the circumstances. You mentioned “objective handicapping” but I would counter by saying ‘What’s more objective than what your eyes told you after actually watching a horse run?’ So, to me, that’s the most objective thing I can come up with. Me looking at a bunch of names on paper that I haven’t seen run isn’t as objective as knowing I’ve watched them all and if they had something worth noting, I noted it.

Any plans on what you’re going to do with the money?

No real plans with the money, I’ll pay some bills and get ahead (for once). I’ve been hearing a lot about these Derby Wars tournies, so I think I’ll devote a portion of the money to that. Maybe take a swing at a nice Pk6 carryover, I’m a sucker for those now and again. Or maybe I’ll put it under the mattress and try and sleep for a week after another great Saratoga season!

Great idea, Brian!

BANKROLL PLAYS:

OK, this Pete back in the roman text again. So this was my seventh year of doing bankroll plays for Saratoga in blog format. The first three were via the Horseplayer mag website, the last four right here. I’m proud to say that after an off year last year we got back in profit this year, making that five of seven SAR seasons to the good (though in two of them it took my last play to get me out). On one hand, a winning year should be expected. But hey, try doing it yourself some time, it ain’t easy.

As for yesterday, we were at -$780 after putting $300 in. Fortunately, when STRONG MANDATE ran away and hid in the Hopeful we got back $1003.75 for a total win of $223.75 on the meeting. Can I get an Amen?

 

MONDAY: REAL LIFE

I’m just amazed at how much time I got to spend up here this summer, betting horses, writing, meeting new friends, connecting with old ones, and, of course. . .having a few drinks.

It just makes me realize that — despite many photo finish results that might suggest otherwise — I really am the luckiest guy in the world. This is due almost entirely to the kindness of my wonderful wife, Susan, and our wonderful daughter, Perrin. I can not express how much I love them in words, nor can I fully communicate how grateful I am for their patience and understanding, particularly during the month of August. You guys are the absolute best!

The blog will be going on its usual hiatus for a bit, likely to return for the Breeders’ Cup and perhaps with some handicapping for the big BC Prep days. But if you’re stopping by, I encourage you to read what I’ve written this summer. I’m not saying it’s all that great, but it’s surely the best Saratoga blog I am capable of writing, so I hope you’ll enjoy it.

I predict some good, big news coming up for me as far as writing about racing goes. So keep your ear to the ground on that one while I keep reaching for the stars — or something.

Tomorrow is annually the worst day of the year, of course, in that it signals a return to real life. But I have to say, given the state of my real life these days, thanks to Susan and Perrin, maybe this is the first year it won’t be so bad.

PLAY OF THE DAY:

Two shots to get out, $300 to play with.

In Race 7, #7 BIRD NOW should improve as this trainer’s charges often do. $75 win and place.

And in Race 9, I’ll throw $75 WP on #9 STRONG MANDATE, who looks to be improving and is bred for wet.

 

Thanks for joining me on the Unbearable Lightness of Betting!

SUNDAY: Guest Post by Brian Malloy on Medication Issues

I recently saw some interesting comments on medication issues on Twitter from a smart guy named Brian Malloy. I wanted to give him the chance to address this stuff longform. So take it away, Brian!

Communications Breakdown: Sending Mixed Signals About Drugs in Horse Racing

By Brian Malloy

Since The Jockey Club announced its half-million dollar pledge to help pay for out-of competition drug testing for graded stakes, the Breeders’ Cup has repealed its Lasix ban on two-year-olds. Under pressure from horsemen in control of the simulcast signal that is the lifeblood of all horseracing today, the sport seems to have reversed course once again on the issue of drugs.

Anyone halfway paying attention can see U.S. horseracing is in the midst of a turf war over the issue of medication, with the partisanship becoming so intense, the head of the ultra-conservative Jockey Club has even called for federal regulation of the sport if we can’t get our act together on drugs.

There are many reasonable people in the sport who argue the focus on drugs is creating a public relations problem. They say if we would just stop talking about it so much, we’d have less of a problem. They say we are the most tested sport in the world already, and if we add more tests, we will have more positives, and more of a public relations problem.

I’m going to give these people the benefit of the doubt. They truly believe that there is simply a lack of knowledge about the overall use of medication in horse racing. They do not see its use as cheating if everyone is doing it. They contend racehorses need medication to stay healthy, especially in the more restrictive confines of tracks in the cities of North America. They say that those folks from those pastoral tracks in Europe just don’t understand.

This argument flies in the face of the facts. Arguably, the most restrictive drug policy in the world is in Hong Kong. And it is definitely run in the most confining of quarters, with rooftop barns in the heart of a densely crowded city of seven million. Hong Kong achieves this while simultaneously boasting a daily handle that would be the envy of any racing jurisdiction.

The Lasix ban was originally seen as a step forward toward banning all race-day medication so that the event had a chance of regaining the mantle of The World Thoroughbred Championships. The rest of the world is increasingly turning up its nose from U.S. racing, and with it, our horses. The decline in interest in our bloodstock, especially at the top of the game, is seen as a real threat to the sustainability of our commercial breeding industry.

The out-of-competition testing announcement was another step forward in dealing with the problem of a permissive drug culture in U.S. horse racing. But the Lasix repeal is two steps back. And more alarmingly, this most recent turn of events at the top of the game reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the basics of public relations.

While I was managing editor at Thoroughbred Times, I also moonlighted at University of Kentucky School of Journalism and Telecommunications. Because I had run the Lexington office of the world’s largest PR firm for a while, the folks at UK thought I should teach the capstone course in the public relations sequence. I did so for several years.

Being sort of a data guy (I created the first web design class at the school), I taught a systems approach to public relations that views organizations as sustainable systems that must maintain equilibrium. PR’s role is to maintain equilibrium through healthy communications between an organization and its multiple publics.

Accordingly, any untruths are viewed as unhealthy noise in the feedback loop. Far from being spin-doctors, my students were taught to be proponents of their organization to their external publics, but just as importantly, also representatives of those publics to their internal publics within the organization. And accurate information communicated coherently is at the core of a system in equilibrium.

The undisclosed use of medication introduces the loudest of noise into our system. This communicates untruths to the most important economic segment of the racing public, the horseplayers. And it creates an overall unhealthy system that appears dominated by cheaters. Out of competition testing would help remove some noise.

But the fact the sport’s premier event is rolling back on drug restrictions sends a different signal into the system. We continue to be out of synch with the rest of the world of sport on the issue of medication. Name me a sport that is relaxing its drug rules. This reactionary reversal is the result of an overall unhealthy communication system in the sport, such that many of its most prominent members, its horsemen, seem to have a fundamental misunderstanding of the problem.

In the United States, horseracing has spent multiple millions of dollars on public relations campaigns to attract new fans and new owners to the sport. These efforts have been directed at our external publics in an effort to communicate the message that our sport is vibrant, relevant and fun. But, as far as I am aware, the sport has done little or nothing to close the feedback loop to our internal publics.

The fact that our horsemen continue to block efforts for racing to join the rest of the world in our sport, and indeed, the rest of the world of sports, is indicative of a communication problem. They are not getting the message that our sport is in decline because of the perception of its permissive drug culture.

Perception is reality. Reality is that most of the rest of the world has banned raceday medication. Regardless of the effect, this is perceived as cracking down on cheaters. Reality is that U.S. racing is perceived by many as dominated by cheaters who will drug their horses to win, risking the lives of these beautiful creatures and the men and women who ride them. And the Breeders’ Cup just sent a message that this status quo is fine.

What we have in U.S. racing is a failure to communicate. But not in communicating a positive perception of racing to the public, but in communicating to the sport’s most prominent figures that the very future of their sport is at stake. A comprehensive external and internal communications effort that includes professional mediatraining for our horsemen would go a long way toward getting our act together.

Brian Malloy is a former wire service reporter, turf writer, magazine editor, PR man, web guru and adjunct professor. A native New Yorker who has lived and worked all over the country and overseas, he now breeds Thoroughbred racehorses in Kentucky with his wife. Thanks so much contributing, Brian.

PLAY OF THE DAY:

I’m going to triple up tomorrow when I have more time to do the work. I accidentally qualified for a high-roller contest at Del Mar tonight on Derby Wars, so I better focus on that!

SATURDAY: Why I Stand

One night back in the spring, a bunch of the horse racing types on Twitter got into a long, surprisingly civilized conversation about standing for our country’s national anthem, “The Star Spangled Banner.”

It all started started when someone made a derogatory comment about those who don’t stand. I chimed in supporting this person without thinking too much about it, but remembering a recent time at a sporting event where I witnessed a bunch of younger guys, baseball caps on (backwards, it must be said) laughing and joking through the anthem. This made my teeth itch. It just felt it was blatantly disrespectful, clueless behavior.

Very quickly it was pointed out to me that there are lots of reasons not to stand for the anthem that don’t fall into the category of what I believe at the time I called “disrespectful jackleggery.”

Not only do I get this and accept it, but I feel sympathy for the position. Whether it’s a calculated protest or a desire to simply not be told what to do, I can see why someone else might not want to stand. Further than that, as I pointed out on Twitter at the time, I think anyone really in touch with the values that our country is supposed to represent should be willing to stand up and fight for the right of the sitters. Cliché though it might be, it’s a free country.

All that said, I wanted to explain why I choose to stand. I’ll admit, when I go to American sporting events with friends from elsewhere in the world, it’s a little tricky to explain. “The National team isn’t playing, why are they playing your anthem?,” The Giant asked me when we went to the Garden to see a hockey game.

He was a sarcastic sort who was messing with me to be sure, but it really was a good question. I didn’t know the origin of the tradition at the time but I’ll link to it later in this piece. I couldn’t explain that, nor could I explain why we’re one of the only countries in the world to have this tradition. All I could do was explain why I was happy to stand, and if that reinforced certain notions about Americans to the Big Man, so be it.

Here’s what I said to him that night, and what I wanted to say I Twitter this Spring but couldn’t condense to 140 characters:

I stand because I think it’s important to take some time out of my day – especially a good day where I get to get to a wonderful place like a race track or ballpark – to think about the people who made the sacrifices to allow me to be enjoying these things. I have had family in the military – my Uncle Jimmy was among the camp liberators in WW2 and my father-in-law, Jim Van Metre, served as a submarine captain in a distinguished Navy career — but it’s not just them I want to honor. I guess it goes back to the old “all gave some, some gave all” idea.

For the record, The Giant stood with me, even though that meant he blocked about three rows worth of spectators from seeing John Amirante.

I was at the famous September 21, 2001 game at Shea. For me, this was the most emotional moment I have witnessed at a sporting event:

I thought it was great that night when we sang “God Bless America” during the 7^th inning stretch. In that moment, in our city, the extra display of patriotism seemed not only appropriate, but healing. I’ve (reluctantly) written about those weeks before, and in my mind, that was a turning point. And even though I didn’t know it at the time, the playing of that song harkened back to the beginnings of the national anthem tradition in the first place.

But I have to say that I think this new tradition has gone too far. If up to me, it would have lasted through the ’01 season and that’s it. That was an amazing moment in time that called for something special, but as time marches on, it’s redundant. We already have the anthem, we don’t need “God Bless America,” too. Maybe rotate them at the start of the game, with “America the Beautiful” thrown in for good measure. But two songs of this type in one sporting event is one too many much. We’ve crossed over patriotic to nationalistic – a scarier word. If I could stand the social pressure – which I don’t think I can – I’d sit through it. Give me “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” and let me sneak in another round before last call.

PLAY OF THE DAY:

The play of the day, given the current track conditions and weather forecast, is to go to Hattie’s for a Bloody Mary. Hope to see you there.

 

 

FRIDAY: The Degenerate Doubleheader, Part Deux

Sorry, Mr. Mosquito, we know how you feel

At the end of the night, when we realized that we’d eaten as many lobsters as we’d cashed tickets, we could only laugh.

And this was no nine race card. We bet all 11 at the flat track, 13 more at Saratoga harness, plus an array of freelance stabs at Del Mar, Mohawk, Remington, Charles Town, and yes, Evangeline Downs.

I am referring of course to this year’s running of the Degenerate Doubleheader. You can find last year’s account here.

The tone for the day was set in the first sticks race at Saratoga, where the horse I really liked on paper was CONSTANT CONTACT. I had just uttered these words to my partner in crime, Brian Nadeau, “Wow, he’s really travelling a lot better now.” A second later, he pinged a fence and went down. He was OK, fortunately, but we were already in the hole. Il sont patis, indeed.

The Saratoga card was mostly uneventful but really fun. Brian, John, Craig and I commandeered the good table up at the Secret Spot and had a lot of fun handicapping, having a few pops, and talking about how Tony Gwynn 2013 looks like he ate Tony Gwynn 1984. You know, the usual racetrack palaver.

I tossed in with a syndicate who put together a large Pick Six play that didn’t get very far. We mucked around in a couple of online contests with no success, and, of course there was the usual race-to-race stuff. Things were looking up when Winekeeper went about 3 clear in the stretch. . .but then Coal and Ice came and ran her down, and I had a sickener of a beat to rival Mentor Cane.

Hurricane Anthony, the Australian form expert, made an appearance by text. He had loved Hunter Forward during the Saratoga Handicapping Challenge when she fell in a hurdle race. He’d been waiting for her to run back. I wasn’t too convinced and stuck with my paper pick, Edie. Hunter Forward paid nearly $70. Anthony can buy a few shares of Qantas for what he won on that one. Brian and I rushed out of there to make sure we got across the street in time to get one of the tables with a TV.

The least degenerate part of the degenerate doubleheader is the buffet at Fortunes, over at Saratoga Harness. It’s quite civilized. We got a good spot. A woman came around and took bets right at the table. But where we really scored out was the buffet itself. Last night was all you can eat lobster and prime rib. We rounded that out with some roasted fingerling potatoes, mixed vegetables, and a little corn on the cob. Brian went a little crazy for dessert. I think he had two brownies and three pieces of Boston Cream pie. How the dude stays so skinny I’ll never know. The only exercise I’ve ever seen him engage is turning the pages of the Form.

The events of the day had left me in a rough position. It was time to take the walk of shame down to the ATM. Man, that’s a bad enough feeling at the flat track, but when it happens to you at the harness track. you’re really in dire straits. I felt a bit defeated just thinking about the prospect. I had one out. Brian’s pal Dan, who joined us for the second half of the card, actually knows a lot about harness racing. Granted, anyone who knows anything about harness racing knows more than us, but he really seemed to understand the game. He tipped us an 8-1 shot and we managed to cash a ticket for the first time all day. After that we pretty much deferred to him in all matters pertaining to the jugheads. He had several other good tips, we just bet them like muppets.

From there the three of us went downstairs briefly but somehow it was like 90 degrees in the main body of the track first floor. I stopped at a carol long enough to watch the Del Mar nightcap to see a friend block his opponent in a Head to Head on Derby Wars. Man, that’s a nice feeling.

We walked quickly by the door that separates the track from the casino, careful not to even glance in the direction of the twinkling lights. For as degenerate as we might be, and as many tracks and races we might play, under no circumstances were we going to get involved in that nonsense. Even degenerates have standards.

At Joe’s bar up in the simulcast area, we settled in for the last six. Text and twitter tips started coming in. Play the 8 at Remington. The 1 at Evangeline looks like lone speed. Other tips were accompanied by question marks, as in, “the 3 here?” Question marks or no, it didn’t matter. We bet them all, and they all lost.

There was a brief, shining moment. A gentleman at the bar had just been over at The Parting Glass to see At The Post Live. He sat next to an owner who had one in Charles Town. The horse was supposed to be a good thing. This fellow came all the way over to the harness track just to bet and watch. I was excited. This was good DG steam. Not content to bet the thing ourselves, we spread the word around the bar, throwing in a little hyperbole for good measure: DEFY GRAVITY would win the Potomac by at least two lengths.

Just one problem. We’d run out of money again. I winced and reached into to my wallet to procure my bank card and accept defeat. . .and there it was — tucked between a losing .20 cent Pick Three ticket from Mohawk and my growler card from Saratoga Brewery — a crisp $10 bill. I rushed up to the window and threw it on Defy Gravity’s nose. Help me, random Charles Town tip horse, you’re my only hope.

Remember when I said Defy Gravity would win by at least two lengths? Well, he gave up three going wide around the first turn. Now the race was on. Coming for home, we looked like the winner, but Defy Gravity wasn’t quite going by, though it didn’t look like he was hanging on the money either. Brian, an excellent race watcher, saw it first, “Hey, that seven just pushed us out four paths!” We never got by, but we still had no doubt, we had to go up via DQ.

The inquiry sign went up. The objection sign went up. But then we waited. The 7 got his picture taken, but it still wasn’t official. What was happening here? We saw the head on, it was as blatant as could be — he herded us and even made contact. It was like Great Barrington Fair redux. The natives, even the ones not in our little betting “coup” joined in, “TAKE HIM DOWN!” Sure enough, they eventually did, and this prompted the largest roar of the night at Joe’s Bar.

There were a few races left, and we contemplated leaving on a high note, but then we turfed that idea. This was the degenerate doubleheader, damnit, and we were going to bet every race there was to bet. No edge? No problem. We didn’t cash a ticket, but I’m happy to say I never had to make that walk of shame. I felt like LaMotta after the Sugar Ray Robinson fight in Raging Bull. Covered in blood, beaten to a pulp, yes and yes, but racing gods, you never got me down. You never got me down.

BANKROLL PLAY:

Why can’t #5 IT’S HUGE wire the nightcap? Or if not wire, why can’t he get a perfect trip sitting just off? He’s a slight flow move up coming off legitimate trouble last time, he’s run well fresh before. $50 win and place.

 

THURSDAY: The Tarrant Bomberoo

A lot of people were surprised when READY SIGNAL lit up the toteboard in Sunday’s nightcap. I might have been among them if not for the work of a few excellent handicappers I am lucky enough to know. The first person to highlight the horse to me was Ken Daniels. Ken is an expert handicapper and co-host of Felix Taverna’s RACE AND SPORTS RADIO show. I’ve had the pleasure of being Felix’s Saratoga correspondent these last few weeks. Ken mentioned her as his on top selection in the nightcap, where she anchored a Pick 4 that came back over $2,500 for %0.50 — with the great Royal Delta at odds on in the penultimate race.

I learned later that my friend Brian Nadeau, who often appears in these blog pages, also not only played READY SIGNAL, but gave her out in his picks for Horse Player Now (note to the HPN webmaster: get a less blurry photo of Brian please, now I’m fighting off a migraine, thanks a lot).

Here’s the paper:

I had a chance to ask Brian what he saw:

BRIAN NADEAU: I had a big trip note on that filly two races back, when she was going 7F’s at Belmont. At Horse Player Now we strictly watch race replays and give out horses based on trip notes, the idea being “why do the work when we’ll do the work for you?” This filly was the perfect example of that. In her race on 7/5 my notes read: “7/5: Rail stalk, had some room, didn’t seem enamored with coming up inside of horses, never asked for a thing but hardly whipped.” To the chart caller’s credit, he was right on it with a “never fully clear lane” comment. As a guy who watches literally hundreds of races a week, I’m quick to point out just how poorly chart callers can be sometimes, so it’s only fair if I give this one some props.

So I filed that note in my stablemail and Ready Signal popped up early in the meet. I gave her out as a 5-star play for our customers on 7/26 but in hindsight it was a bad tout because she was cutting back to 5 1/2 F’s, which was way too short. And it was no real surprise when she got run off her feet after chasing early and that was that. Oh well.

But, as you know, you have to trust your eyes. For me personally, if I start questioning my eyes, and decide not to give out trip horses I’ve found just because they don’t look good on paper, I miss a lot of nice-priced winners. Generally speaking, all 25-1 shots have one thing in common — they don’t look like much on paper. So, when you’re trip handicapping and looking for bombs, it pays to be creative and forgiving.

So I wasn’t too worried about that last race, especially since she had the classic excuse of running at the wrong distance. And when Ready Signal showed up going a flat mile Sunday, with Prado, who was aboard for the original note, she was a no-brainer pick for me. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was going to be a huge price and if I missed again with her, so what, I hit the delete button on my watch list and she’s out of my life forever.

Luckily it all came together. It’s not often you get to give out a  horse at 27-1 and KNOW she’s a winner the entire way around. I could get used to that feeling. I also suggested the double with Royal Delta as well and that’s really what it’s all about for us at Horse Player Now. It’s a good feeling to give out a horse like Ready Signal. Any literate person can tell you Royal Delta is going to win the Personal Ensign, or that Havana can probably run for Todd Pletcher, but doing what we do is something different and I take a lot of pride in that.

And hell, after I bet Moreno at 30s and he was beaten an inch and a half Saturday, I think I deserved a break.

Great stuff, Brian, thanks for that!

PLAY OF THE DAY:

OK, we’re getting down to it. I’m stuck a few hundred on these picks but nothing we can’t get out of. Today I’m going to have a bet in the With Anticipation, race 10. Let’s do $50 win place (yes, I’ve learned my lesson, we’d be up and out with place back ups on a few of these this meet!) on #6 BASE CASE SCENARIO. He’s been keeping the best company and I like that he was able to close last time despite a Race Flow that favored frontrunners. I like this barn and pedigree, should trip out nicely. I have knocks on several others. Rock and roll.

SUNDAY Guest Post by Hank Seaman: Champions

 

Today’s post comes courtesy of my friend Hank Seaman — take it away Hank!

It’s a common theme among handicappers. A lot of us who love the track were introduced by a family member— in my case, my dad. During the week, I had to go to bed early but on Friday night, I was allowed to stay up late to be with Dad on the ride to the newsstand outside Chicago where, with a devilish twinkle in each of our eyes, we’d get the Daily Racing Form for Saturday’s Arlington races.

That trip to the newsstand was part of the experience; and I loved making that trip. The anticipation grew and grew through each stop light, until we hit our destination and obtained our prize, the Form that was always tucked away especially for us.

In those days, like today, kids were welcomed at the track. Dad would bet his own horses based on his reading of the form, and then make an obligatory $2 win bet that I chose, almost always on the favorite. Sometimes I noticed Dad getting conspicuously quiet when my chalk would win — years would pass before I really understood the nuances of betting longshots. Thankfully Dad tried to teach me everything he knew about how to find prices.

For as long as I could remember, we travelled to Florida for the winter. My Mom and I hung out at the beach, and Dad was gone all day, showing up just before my Mom’s foot put a hole in the Hotel lobby floor from tapping impatiently, waiting for Dad to appear so we could go to dinner.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized the reason we went to Florida every winter was because Dad was following the horses on their annual excursion to Hialeah and Gulfstream.

We ended up moving to Boca Raton, then still a sleepy town, home of Africa USA (believe it or not), where the police chief  (Chief Brown), didn’t even wear a uniform. Dad would drive to Miami for work each day, but every Saturday during the winter, we would jump in the car and drive to either Gulfstream or Hialeah.

The Turnpike in those days’ cost 90 cents each way from Boca to Miami. Dad would always put a dollar in the ashtray when we arrived at the track, for no matter how poor a day at the windows we might have; we always had the money to get back home. During the trip to the track, Dad would have me quiz him. I’d tell him the name of each horse, and, without fail, he would in turn tell me the sire, dam, trainer and owner. Unfortunately for me, his photographic memory is the one thing he couldn’t teach me, for I cannot touch his recall. Thank goodness for Equibase, Progressive Handicapping, and DRF’s Formulator; one click , and I have my Dad’s recall at my fingertips.

When it came to betting, Dad had three rules.

1. If we are winning, buy the bar drinks.
2. If we have money left at the end of the day, we go to Joe’s Stone Crabs in Miami for Dinner.
3. Never, ever bet a horse less than even money

By the time I was 14 years old, we had been living in Florida for several years, and our foray to the track always included the big stakes races. In February of 1974, Forego was wintering in South Florida with the intention of running in the Donn Handicap, The Gulfstream Handicap, and the Widener Handicap. Those days they would put the weight of a small elephant on Forego to try and bring him back to the competition. Of course this still did not deter the great Forego by any stretch of the imagination.

So there we went to Gulfstream on that Saturday in February. As always, the 9^th race was the feature race of the day.  The Morning Line in the Form was always a little north when it came to Forego, and this day was no exception. I think they had him at 7/5 coming off the layoff. We got our position at the paddock during the running of the 8^th race to make absolutely sure we’d be able to see Forego walk by when the jocks were legged up. The excitement surrounding the paddock rail was contagious.

And so, I might add, was the crowd’s desire to bet on mighty Forego. His odds proceeded to get lower and lower with each click. Finally the stick representing Dad’s cut off rule popped up on the board, and then was breached. As Forego walked out to the track at 4/5 I knew we wouldn’t be backing him that day.

Dad was excited, maybe a little anxious. Before I even had a chance to ask him who we’d be betting instead of Forego, he turned to me and said “Hank, how much money do you have”—before I could count it, he said, “Just give me all of it.” He in turn took out all of his greenbacks as well. Before we could discuss the situation he was off to the windows.

I didn’t know for sure who we’d bet, so I just rooted for Forego. He powered down the stretch and won that day like he usually did. I found my father after the race and he was grinning ear to ear. I could tell he’d bet it all on Forego and I was thrilled. But I had to ask, “Dad, what about the rule with never betting a horse that’s less than even money?” He looked at me with that little devil look in his eye and said “Hank, there are exceptions for champions, and Forego is a Champion. I’m happy to report that we kept at least two rules in tact that day—we bought drinks for everyone, and we got valet parking at Joe’s Stone Crabs that evening. All thanks to the mighty Forego, and another great champion, my dad.

PLAY OF THE DAY:

Thanks for that Hank, great story.

In Race 8, I’ll take a shot #6 AMORE GRAND, $50 win and place. I always like to see a race under the belt and with her pedigree I think two turns on the turf will suit her just fine.

 

SATURDAY: Grade 1 at Saratoga

Today is Travers’ Day of course, but we’re not going to talk about that in the main body of this post, though I’ll share a few wagering thoughts below. Today I want to finish up my three-parter on meeting my friend Sean Clancy and tell you about my very first Battle of the Brews, the second one overall, back in 1998. Just scroll back in the blog for parts one and two if you want to but they are all pretty much stand alone if you are pressed for time — and who isn’t on Travers Day?

The first couple of Battles were on Thursday, not Friday, which meant that they coincided with the New York Turf Writers’ Cup. I took a week off from work to be up there. I can recall on the Tuesday before the race, having apparently not had enough racing at Saratoga, that I took a little trip, my only one ever as it would turn out, down to Great Barrington fair. Accompanying me were Sean Clancy, and an older guy I’ll call The Legend. It’s off-topic, but I need to do a few words on The Legend.

The Legend was a guy I knew from Belmont and he’d come up with some crazy interesting angles from time to time. As a young, impressionable handicapper, one looks for all the help one can get. the Legend had a lot of stories — a few of which might even have been true — he was an experimental theater director, he worked with Sinatra, he roomed with Bill Cosby, he was in The Scout, he had friends connected with some scary elements in the 60s-70s political movement (he never mentioned Patty Hearst by name, but I always thought that was the implication).

Anyway, Great Barrington was . . .well, it was a real mess. The Legend told me about the King of the Fairs and how it paid to follow his horses. Sean and I watched, amazed, at some of the specimens who paraded by in the paddock down there. In terms of looks, two men in a horse suit would have been about the mean. The only race I recall was the last race of the day where a horse Sean, The Legend and I bet in a  four turn race ran second. I believe he was claimed by the King of the Fairs. Legend went to just beneath the stewards’ stand and started yelling “Take him down! Did you see that?” I found Sean, who would have the triple if the horse came down. I took a quick look on the replay monitor and saw nothing. But that didn’t stop me. I joined the Legend’s chorus: TAKE HIM DOWN! Sean joined in, “Aw, come on man, he’s GOTTA come down.”

The number blinked for five minutes, and sure enough, the stewards’ took him down. We went up. The Legend insisted the only reason he came down is that we made the poor stewards afraid we’d set fire to the place if they left him up. I wasn’t so sure but I had no evidence to deny the claim. Plus, I won like $70, a small fortune at the time.

On the ride back to the Spa, Sean and I got to talking about that year’s Turf Writers. He told me about all the various work he’d done over at Janet Elliot’s barn attempting to hustle the mount. He basically raked the shedrow and watered the flowers for two weeks. He was a little cranky trying to make 42, but he was buoyed by his nice little Great Barrington trifecta and the fact that he was going to have a mount for the big one.

I don’t think Sean will mind my saying this. He wasn’t the most naturally gifted rider; he was a guy who worked hard at his craft and became very, very good over time. At that point in his career, he’d had some big successes, but his main goal, winning The Big One, at Saratoga, had eluded him.

I didn’t know what a Battle of the Brews was back then, but when I saw that there was all this great beer available for $20 for five hours, I nearly jumped out of my skin with excitement. I wish I had the list of who was there that year. I’m pretty sure Davidson Brothers were represented, Cooper’s Cave was there back then, the Saratoga Brewery, and I think Lake Placid as well. That was probably the first time I ever had Ubu ale, which remains a perennial Battle of the Brews favorite.

I recall the weather being perfect, because I wore a coat and tie. Joe Clancy, a good friend and great writer in his own right, invited me to sit in a box with him. It was one of the CH boxes, not too far from the finish line, and from there we’d attempt to exhort his brother to victory.

The key to that race as I recall it was Lonesome Glory. Man, what a great horse he was. If Lonesome ran his race, everybody else was running for second. But if he threw in a clunker, it was wide open. That’s where Hokan came in. Hokan was just starting to get good. He’d hacked up in an a-other-than earlier in the meet with Arch Kingsley Jr. up (Sean was way back in the field on Electron). Then Hokan had a useful flat sharpener under Samyn-on-the-Green, beaten only 5 in a straight maiden.

As a journalist, and a guy with all around good manners, Joe Clancy generally has what I like to call an “act-like-you’ve-been-there-before demeanor.” But between his love for his brother, and several drinks at The Battle of the Brews, it went out the window that day. And I was right there with him. The two of us screamed like teenage girls for The Beatles at Shea Stadium when Sean made his move on Hokan. He came wide around the turn to avoid traffic because he knew he had the horse. In the end he prevailed a neck over his best friend (and former roommate) Chip Miller on Romantic.

Then the party began. There was the Parting Glass, of course, with Sean picking up the tab for the whole jumps community. And there were were the bars of Caroline Street. There was a great bar band that night, female singer in a purple dress with glasses, belting out some good ones. I remember her really bringing it for the Saratoga line in “You’re So Vain.”

I bet all of $10 on Hokan, which became $130. Sean’s payday was a lot bigger. But even that paled in comparison to the emotional income from that win. For after years of hustling mounts, galloping horses, riding on weekends, he’d finally hit the professional pinnacle — Grade 1 success at Saratoga.

Click the name below for Hokan’s DRF PP:

hokan

PLAY OF THE DAY:

Real fast, I see the Travers as a two horse affair between ORB and PALACE MALICE. I love them both. As for the bankroll play, gibe me $100 to win on #7 MENTOR CANE in the King’s Bishop. I think breaking from the rail forced him to be speed last time, and I wouldn’t give up on the concept of him rating if necessary. What a race that was last time! He blew the turn and still stayed on well. Seven panels ought to hit him between the eyes.

FRIDAY: Gettin’ Rowdy

For the first part of this saga, check out yesterday’s post . . .

From that unlikely weekend, a real friendship began. We hung out with Sean a bunch more the following summer, hung out down in the city when he wasn’t dieting — a bit more fun — and I was thrilled to head out to New Jersey to see him ride in the big one at Far Hills on October 25, 1997. It was a night to remember.

Do you know about The Hunt, in Far Hills? First off, it’s not to be confused with Fair Hills Races, a horse of a different color entirely. The Hunt is one of racing’s best kept secrets. If you’ve never done a day out there, put it on your racing fan bucket list, below Ascot but ahead of taking the boat from NYC to Monmouth. The Hunt is essentially an amazing tailgate in the midst of beautiful scenery. Oh yes, and there are a handful of excellent horse races. It feels like it’s a crowd of 40,000, though I’m not sure of the real numbers. The fatal flaw is no legal betting — but an enterprising young man with a chalkboard and an excel spreadsheet could fix that right quick. But that’s a story for another day.

On that day in ’97, Sean got us in the hospitality tent for owners, trainers, and prospective owners. My presence in there was somewhat of a joke. Because while I would eventually go on to own some horses, sticks horses even, at the time I was about as far from being able to do so as I am from touching my toes now. The tent was wonderful. Free food, these little finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off, and also, my two favorite words in the language: open bar. I love an open bar now, but back then, in my impoverished state, just forget it. Sean said of us later that evening, “Pete and Frank closed the open bar.”

But the real story of the day was the big race, the Grand National, aka The Breeders’ Cup Steeplechase. Sean had somehow finagled himself the mount on Rowdy Irishman, a tough old customer even then. Rowdy had experienced some success in his career to that point — I think he won the Temple Gwathmey the year before — and he’d run creditably in the big ones at Saratoga that summer. But as I recall it, he wasn’t a handy, fast horse built for the tight turns and fast turf at the Spa. He was a big galloper, who had a particularly nice way of going when there was cut in the ground.

I’m not sure where Sean learned the rain dance he did that week, but he got his way. These were Rowdy’s conditions: yielding turf, and an uphill finish. If Rowdy was in the mood, Sean, in at a mere 42, would be where he wanted and just have to coax his mount home.

It turned out “coax” was the wrong word for it. The chart just said “driving.” But sure enough, aboard the right horse for the right course, and under a perfect ride, Sean and Rowdy reported home 1 1/2 clear over his old pals Master McGrath and Hudson Bay.

The party started in the tent, and continued on the train back to the city. In previous years I’d decried the loud, obnoxious drunks on the train ride back from Far Hills. That year, WE were the loud, obnoxious drunks. We ended up on the upper east side and here’s an important footnote to the story as it pertains to the trajectory of my life. I met a stewardess in the bar that night: a good-looking blonde, pretty blue eyes, fun, tolerant of my stories from a drunken day out going racing. I actually really liked her and she gave me her phone number. I legitimately lost the piece of paper at some point during the course of the evening. Thank goodness I did. Because within a month, I met a far more attractive, unbelievably charming, smart-as-a-whip brown-eyed, dark haired beauty at a party — Susan Van Metre. We had our first date that December 18; 15 years later to the DAY our daughter Perrin would eventually be born.

As for the rest of that night back in ’97, I can recall drinking many shots, Jameson here, Bendectine and Brandy there, and each time clinking glasses and roaring “Here’s to Rowdy Irishman!!!!!!!”

Click on the name below for a look at Rowdy Irishman’s DRF PP:

rowdyirishman

(The story will conclude tomorrow with a quick bit about Hokan, the Battle of the Brews, and the 1998 New York Turf Writers’ Cup)

PLAY OF THE DAY:

In the nightcap I’ll be betting $100 win on #12 KING OF BROADWAY, who looks the controlling speed for Bill Mott and Mike Smith. He should take to the turf no problem.

MEET: -$180

THURSDAY: He Had Us at Saratoga

I always have had a special affinity for today’s feature race, The New York Turf Writers Cup. For me, it all goes back to my friendship with Sean Clancy. And in my next three blog posts — the story is too long for anything less — I want to tell the tale of the start of my friendship with Sean, specifically of a couple of nights out on the town back when he was riding. But this is part one of our little creation myth.

I first met Sean in 1996. I had recently discovered both horse racing and Saratoga. I was a semi-starving assistant at Simon & Schuster, playing rightfield for the softball team. In leftfield was my new friend and fellow degenerate Frank Scatoni. In center was a guy name Paul Wasserman. It was a June afternoon and we were leading Facts on File 8-6. Between innings, on the bench, while purchasing a brace of Bud tallboys from Hector the Protector for a grand total of $4, Frank and I got to chatting. We reminisced about out big score on Editor’s Note in that year’s Belmont and one of us said something to the effect of “We should spend a weekend this summer up in Saratoga. Too bad it’s so damn expensive”

Enter Paul. “Hey guys, I know a place you can stay up there for free.”

“Huh, what?”

“Yeah, my college roommate from Delaware is a jockey up in Saratoga. Sean Clancy. He’d LOVE to have you guys visit.”

We thought it sounded like heaven on earth.

In retrospect, I really love this part of the story because it tells you so much about our lives at the time. Objectively, it’s completely insane to think it’s kosher to go to Saratoga to stay with a person you’ve never met, let alone a freakin’ jockey who presumably has enough going on just to try to make weight for the Smithwick on Wednesday. But now remember this. We were basically indentured servants at the time. I lived in a small apartment in Park Slope with no heat, and two roommates, only one of whom was human. Frank, who lived over in Cobble Hill, couldn’t afford a TV, and spent his evenings drinking cheap red wine, listening to the Yankees on the radio, and reading Ulysses by the light of a flickering candle. There were no further questions about the sanity of Paul’s plan. He had us at Saratoga.

And so, when the appointed weekend finally came, we boarded the bus from Port Authority and got dropped off at the diner. We hoofed it from there to the corner of Union and Nelson, stopping only at Five Points Deli for two six packs of beer: Genesee for us, Anchor Steam for Sean and his roommate Chip. I love that even now, two decades later, when Sean tells the story, he leaves out the Anchor Steam and remembers only the Genny Cream Ale. We were cheap bastards then, Sean, but we weren’t *THAT* cheap.

Somehow Sean actually opened the door when we knocked, and we had a great weekend. I got to meet Leo O’Brien, who trained Fourstardave and won the Yaddo every year. Sean was galloping for him that summer and Frank knew his son, Keith, because they’d played rugby at Holy Cross together. Leo O might as well have been Van Morrison as far as I was concerned — I was starstruck!

As for the rest of the weekend, we cashed a ticket or two, closed The Parting Glass every night, and somehow made it back to work for Monday morning more or less in one piece. We spent enough time with Sean that a real friendship was born that weekend. I’ll pick up tomorrow with the story of several rowdy Irishmen and a horse called Rowdy Irishman.

PLAY OF THE DAY:

You know I badly wanted to pick a Play of the Day from the big race today but I can’t do it. You want to blame the Coupled Entries rules for that. I’ve already ranted on the topic here, so I’ll spare you. I also considered writing a new rant today about how some people can still complain about steeplechase racing at Saratoga when the overall state of the cards has degenerated to the state it has, but I’ll save that one for this week next year.

Let’s move on to the 8th race. Despite the apparent stats, I like Niall Saville’s ability to get horses ready off a freshening and #7 MAILBU YANKEE just fits here on form and figures. I think there should be enough speed to set up a good late run at a solid number. I’ll cancel this one if under 6-1 but I think you should get that and more. $50 win and place.

MEET TO DATE: -$80 heading into today, let’s get back in the black.