Notes from the Breeders' Cup at the OTB (CST)

11:08 AM: I love the smell of napalm in the morning (i.e. an OTB full of gambling degenerates who haven’t bathed in weeks).

11:14 AM: The track looks like a quagmire. Monmouth Park spent $50M in renovations to host the Breeders' Cup, and it has rained for 96 straight hours leading up to the big day. Attendance & wagering will be down fo’ shore. This is what horse racing gets for trying to “branch out” – hosting a marquee event in New Jersey.

11:39 AM: One race into the proceedings and I’m down $25. BUT my Pick Three is still alive. Whoever called “hope” a “grand essential” in life was onto something, even if they didn’t intend it in the context of: “I’m gonna get really wasted (as opposed to pretty wasted) if I win this Pick Three.”

11:50 AM: Note to self: "speed looks like it will hold up in the mud." Follow-on thought: "I don't wanna work, I just wanna bang on my drum all day."

12:16 PM: Lost the second race. The aforementioned Pick Three is now muerto as well. It's time for a Bud Heavy.

12:32 PM: The bar across the street from the OTB doesn’t serve Budweiser products. I’m drinking a Spiced-Pumpkin-Latte (Octoberfest) Sam Adams instead: hardly an ideal trade off. Tomorrow, I’ll be retaining Steven Colbert to help me wage a PR assault on this un-American watering hole (Joe’s on Weed St.).

12:58 PM: We have a winning ticket. Honey Ryder was second in the Filly/Mare Turf. Me and my boy Jim had $20 on her to show. Our winnings, $46.50, won’t allow us to retire. But they will pay for two more adult beverages.

1:17 PM: This just in: the $0.10 superfecta is the greatest invention since microwave popcorn. The only downside to the $0.10 super is the focus that’s required to read off a wheel at the betting window. It’s like doing an algebra equation, except without the jingles which help you remember how to factor.

1:40 PM: Midnight Lute just made a redonkulous last-to-first move to win the BC Sprint. The other horses looked like they were tied to a post. The Lute won the Forego at Saratoga this summer in similar fashion -- a legitimate superstar in the making. We’ll still be talking about this colt's performance at day’s end.

1:44 PM: Just heard on the broadcast that Midnight Lute is named after Arizona Basketball coach Lute Olsen, who apparently stole a key recruit from Tark's Running Rebels at the last hour. Now that is a great anecdote to the proceedings (and a great name for a horse).

1:58 PM: Bumped into a smoking brunette in line betting. This never happens. On a normal day the OTB is home to exactly the same number of attractive females as Augusta National: zero.

Speaking of said female, I think she thinks I’m staring at her. That’s probably because I am. Amidst my staring I’m also experiencing a sensation of bewilderment. It’s like the feeling I had the first time I saw Craig “Ironhead” Heyward get zestfully clean, a commercial which left me baffled and immobile for a solid five minutes.

2:04 PM: Still perspiring after the run-in with the brunette, but I’m regaining feeling in my toes. Granted, if I encounter another OTB vixen I’ll probably be in a coma tomorrow. If that happens, tell my doctors to replay Sunday Silence’s BC Classic over and over near my bedside. If that won’t wake me up, nothing will.

2:28 PM: I had seven different horses to beat Excellent Art (who ran second as I expected) in the Mile Turf, but Kip Deville (who won) wasn’t one of my seven. The Gods are obviously angry with me today. I'd best pound another cold one and ponder my next move.

2:55 PM: Starting to get stoked for the Classic even though we’re still 100 minutes from post. Five excellent horses have a legitimate shot at the winner’s share of $5M bones. The only bummer is that last year’s champion, Invasor, had to be retired earlier this year and won’t be racing. This is doubly unfortunate because Kenny Mayne would unleash a killer Cheech Marin “Eeeeen-vaaa-Sooore” every time the horse took to the track. If Invasor had stayed healthy, this would have been a Classic for the ages.

3:11 PM: Still raining at Monmouth, but it’s getting a little sunnier at the OTB. Had the exacta in the Distaff with Ginger Punch over Hystericalady (who ran a hell of a race from the twelve hole). Can’t mess with my formula for success: I had a beer before the last race, better grab another one before this one.

3:31 PM: I just saw a guy in line betting that looked exactly like Officer Vince Romano from T.J. Hooker. Potentially famous people + hotties at the OTB…this day officially = bizarro world. I’d best call Frodo and make sure the one true ring is in safe keeping.

3:55 PM: English Channel romped the field in the $3M Turf. My horse, Grand Couturier, was so far behind the leaders going into the far turn I had to call OnStar and check on his whereabouts. The colt somehow made up enough ground to finish 5th, but I’m still pissed at the jockey (unlike in the movie SeaBiscuit, if your horse isn’t within 100 yards of the pack, he’s not hitting the board).

3:56 PM: I’m on hold with the Better Business Bureau. I didn’t know who else to call. I figure they can log a “my jockey was an imbecile and owes me money” complaint.

4:11 PM: My boy Jim just made the switch from vodka lemonades to beer; the day is officially approaching Ludicrous Speed.

4:27 PM: The horses are on the track for the Classic, and the smell of excitement is palpable. And I mean that in literal terms: the OTB stinks more than usual.

4:33 PM: Two minutes to post and the sun is shining at Monmouth for the first time in a fortnight; this is the sport of kings.

4:43 PM: Curlin won the Classic in awesome fashion. He also ran an otherworldly time over a very sloppy track (just over two minutes for 1 ¼ miles). What a performance! All the more enjoyable because Jim and I had a $4 exacta with Curlin over Hard Spun (payout $141). Finished the day close to even, minus the cost of six brews.

4:44 PM: Already bummed out. The Classic may have been Curlin’s last race. Decent chance he’ll retire to stud immediately (paid to nail fillies all day). The owners for Street Sense and Hard Spun already announced their colts are headed to the barn. Not great for the sport. In my opinion, not fair to these unbelievable colts/athletes either.

Staying with this point, if you were Curlin would you want to sit in a barn and lay pipe from here to eternity? Don’t you think he deserves more than a never-ending line of sexed up fillies waiting to ante $75K (or more) for a ride in his hay? Plus, in all likelihood Curlin's best days on the track are still ahead of him.

I'd better call PETA and see if they’ll help me organize a protest, with the animal’s best interests in mind.

4:58 PM: Another Breeder’s Cup has come and gone. Thankfully, next year the festivities are at Santa Anita: a welcome SoCal alternative to the Noah’s Ark that was New Jersey. I’ll meet any takers in the infield twelve months from now in Arcadia.

4:59 PM: In the interim, it’s only six months until the first Saturday in May: talk Derby to me!