Ethan and I went to the track last night to watch the horses run.
We decided to sit in the general admission area instead of paying for seats in the clubhouse so that we would have plenty of money for snacks as the evening progressed. There was a lot of riff-raff on the lower levels, so we walked up stairs to the section where the nice people sit and found some good seats close to the finish line. Ethan was rather amused at the way the seat bottoms could be flipped up when not in use.
The first race was a 300-yard maiden claimer. Noble Affair looked like the best of the bunch, but Classic Move had only lost by half a length in its only race. After some discussion, we decided to put a win bet on Noble Affair and play an exacta to Classic Move. We hit with the win ticket but the other horse failed to fire. That was okay, because we turned ninety cents profit on the race.
Ethan and I went over to the paddock to take a close look at the horses for the next race. We agreed that they were beautiful animals and Ethan seemed to be respectfully impressed with their size. Then jockeys came through the tunnel and walked past us. All of them were a little bigger than Ethan. He liked the colorful silks and high boots.
We decided to watch the second race from the trackside rail and found a place close to the finish line. I lifted Ethan high in the air so that he could have a good view as the horses ran by. It was an exciting race, and Ethan noted that the jockeys were hitting the horses with whips. He told me that the horses were being hurt. I explained to him that if they did what they were told, it would not be necessary to spank them. I think that he understood the concept.
The third race was a little expensive when a seven-to-one class dropper took it wire-to-wire and destroyed my tickets. "Time for a snack," I said. Ethan agreed. We bought some popcorn, nachos and drinks then went back to our seats to study the next race. Ethan said that the popcorn was very good.
At the beginning of the fourth race, one of the horses broke through the gate and fell to the ground. It had to be scratched. Ethan said that the horse got hurt. "Yes," I replied, "he got hurt because he has bad gate manners." That incident was a topic of discussion for the rest of the evening - horse got hurt at the gate.
The fifth, sixth and seventh races did not go according to plan and I was down about twenty bucks, but the eighth race had a lot of potential and I thought that it might be a good time to tap into some of that pari-mutuel cash flow.
IBA Perry was going to win and everybody knew it - six to five odds. But at eleven to one, Lawful was being overlooked by the crowd. A Mere Flame was receiving some action at three to one. I keyed the exacta and trifecta on IBA Perry, and then purchased a five-dollar win ticket on the horse as well.
Yes, by God! I nailed it! Cashed for sixty bucks and ended up with forty dollars profit for the evening - not including admission, program and snacks.
Ethan and I decided to leave before the last two races. Leaving the track after the last race is a little dangerous. Some of the people have lost all their money, they're drunk and they're mad and they don't care if they hit your car or run over you on the way out.
On the way home we talked a little more about that horse that got hurt at the gate and we decided that we should do this more often. We both had a lot of fun.
