Battling my way, for the past week, through my second bout of pneumonia this year I have eschewed (to date) professional medical care and instead self-medicated with Bumble cookies.....
..... and working lunches with Mr B at Bob's:
Note the Cincinnati Reds-centric after-tax total; $18.69. 1869 didn't register, at first, for Mr B but then again he is a Red Sox fan. I have an affinity for the Bumble as that has long been one of My Dear Elderly Mother's nicknames for me due to my unparalleled prowess for angel-topping the family Christmas tree. Plus, the Bumble and I both like ribs.
Said Christmas tree was, tonight, casting a broad spectrum of color:
Especially as reflected off the ceiling, walls and thick, luxuriant carpet. The Ranch Christmas has been transformed into a Miami Beach nightclub.
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On Christmas night, Santa Claus makes his debut on Doctor Who when he appears in this holiday's special episode titled "Last Christmas." Of course, our British cousins refer to Santa as Father Christmas (as if). Check your local listings for BBC America.
Roll the credits!
One of the brightest days amid the dark winter (or late autumn) nights arrives annually with my complimentary RedsFest tickets, just one perk of being a valued season ticket holder.
Membership has its privileges. One such privilege is having access to the RedsFest season ticket holder-only "VIP Lounge" on the second floor of the convention center:
Paraphrasing Adam Horowitz, the beat was a-bumpin' and - I'm sure had I looked closely enough - the girlies was hot. However, there wasn't a spare leather-covered seat cushion for me to fall into so I split this scene after spending less than 2 minutes there and crossing paths with 700WLW SportsTalk host Lance McAlister (he said "Hey," I gave him a nod of the coconut).
The Reds Country faithful packed RedsFest as per usual:
In the photo above you are seeing approximately one-third of the main floor area. If my bearings are correct, this is the east end of the convention floor. There is a wing off to the left for the memorabilia dealers. Ickey Woods was there to meet and greet customers who were buying autographed stills of Ickey doing the grocery store shuffle (signed Gonna get some cold cuts today! Ickey Woods) as seen in a popular insurance company commercial. George Foster, David Fulcher and Phil Castellini were spied among the memorabilia vendors, too.
RedsFest is a two-day event. The highlight of Day One was this (below):
Primate on a Stick.
I'm still not certain if it was a lemur, perhaps it was higher-classification mammalian - a marsupial of some description, or a Mad Scientist miniaturized version of Big Randy, but that little guy hung onto his stick for hours just as serene as could be. As for the lesser highlights which I found time to photograph from Day One.....
.....Chillin' with Mike Leake.....
.....peepin' on Jay Bruuuuuce signing autographs.....
.....Joey Votto rendered in LEGO, found in the Louisville Slugger Factory & Museum booth....
.....getting an autograph (not shown) from Daniel Corcino (shown, above). Also not photographed were the two slices of LaRosa's pizza and the chocolate-covered Oreo I crushed.
Day Two of RedsFest did not feature any Primates on a Stick and in this I was very disappointed. However, I did score the autographs of three prospects at once:
Jon Matthews, slightly blurry in the foreground, a moderately blurry Jon Moscot in the middle and Jesse Winker blurred nearly to obscurity in the distance. I've been carrying around with me a so-called prospects ball since the 2009 edition of RedsFest. I've had to retire the ball after the addition of Jesse Winker as there is no more space for signatures on that baseball. Among the 20 "prospects" to be found on it are current Major Leaguers Todd Frazier, Mike Leake, Zack Cozart, Devin Mesoraco, Chris Heisey, Logan Ondrusek, Travis Wood, Chris Valaika (is he still in the Bigs with some other franchise?) and Billy Hamilton.
Just 45 minutes before closing time on Day Two I had a conversation with The 'Famer.
Marty Brennaman! He axed me my name and from where I hailed and we shared a brisk, in-depth 1 minute exchange about Miami University. There's a lot to be said about Miami, said Martin. Comically, I left it at that.
Christmas card history was made a few hours earlier on Day Two when I let 2010 National League MVP Joey Votto have his picture taken with me:
I am blotto for Votto!
Roll the credits!
Heartbreaking news last week for Ohio aficionados of cheeseburgers, fries and ice cream [isn't this everyone?]; Friendly's closed all 14 of its Buckeye state restaurants. No longer viable as a going concern according to various reports.
Q: Now where am I supposed to go in order to enjoy a three scoop (or five scoop) Reece's Pieces Sundae?!
A: Altoona, PA is the closest location. Yes. Zero chance.
Lost somewhere on my old hard drive were assorted photos of the many Western BBQ and Bacon Cheeseburgers that I often murdered at Friendly's and I'd have shared one or two of those photos here if I had access to them. Friendly's has been dying a slow death by thousands of cuts - or bankruptcies - for decades and this appears to be just one more step on its inexorable path towards a Bill Knapp's type of oblivion. If Steak 'n Shake ever folds up its tent, I'm leaving for a different galaxy. Who's with me?!
The [multiple expletives deleted] Lord of restaurant dining taketh away and the same Lord just referenced giveth; This week Chick-fil-A opened a so-called "express" [read: self serve] storefront in Oxville. You know who hit it up. Big time.
Chick-fil-A is located in Stewart Square, and I'm sitting just about where Dale Plank's science classroom was situated. I used to think about chicks all the time when I was sitting in that class but, of course, that was altogether a bird of a different feather. In the photo above, I deployed the rarely used (honest!) selfie feature of my Android GalaxyS9000 to surreptitiously photograph the as-yet unfinished interior (and the cute chick working the cash register), inadvertently capturing my left shoulder in the image. Consider it perspective.
While I dined, a majestic sunset unfolded outside Stewart Square:
The GalaxyS9000 is an awesome piece of computational hardware, yet it never seems to capture the full and glorious spectrum of sunsets. That said, can I get a Big Government/Infrastructure Porkulus [i.e., pork + stimulus] consensus on burying power and phone lines underground? Seriously. These eyesores are relics of the dusty, distant telegraphic past. It's time to consign this anachronism to the same historical ash heap as the Pony Express and ticker tape.
Something else that soothed my Friendly's-shaped wound this week:
Speaking of carb-loading, on Thanksgiving I snapped this clandestine photo of My Dear Elderly Mother in serene repose, enjoying her seat in a rocking chair by the fire place:
Mom hates having her photo taken. You should excuse the ham-handed blurriness of this picture as a gesture of deference to her objection. For those of you familiar with the John Ford/John Wayne classic western The Searchers [yeah, I know. Nobody reading this], we have a mutual fondness for the character of Ol' Mose, played expertly by Hank Worden. In return for helping John Wayne's character find the kidnapped children, all that Ol' Mose asks is for a roof over his head and a rockin' chair by the fire. As such, it was funny to find Mom sitting there on Thanksgiving.
If you've had enough, now, reading of my recent gastronomical exploits, tough break.
After a whirlwind Christmas shopping excursion in November, I treated My Dear Elderly Mother to an early dinner at the Christian Moerlein Lager House. I had the excellent BBQ chicken. I give it my highest recommendation. Although the place was largely devoid of patrons, we were not shown to a seat overlooking the mighty Ohio River. Rather, here was our view:
Ehh.
In other news (don't stop me if you've heard this before... because you have), it's never to early to start thinking about the Kentucky Derby. While Las Vegas opened its Derby Futures wager pools sometime ago, Churchill Downs opened (and closed) its own Pool #1 this past weekend (Pool #2 to open in February, Pool #3 sometime thereafter). I notified The Old Master of the Turf of this development and he made a beeline (pun intended) to Miami Valley Gaming in order to place a small wager on my behalf, as well as a few bets for himself and Lou.
In this Pool #1, the #7 betting proposition was for a colt named Daredevil. Daredevil opened at odds of 20-1 and closed at 48-1. If he comes home the winner on the First Saturday in May, this ticket will pay me just under $250.00. When one considers the distinct likelihood that Daredevil won't even make the Derby Day starting gate, the odds should perhaps be something closer to, as ESPN's Jay Cronley so imaginatively put it in his recent column "Science fiction pools," moon-to-one. That's $5 that would otherwise have gone towards a Reece's Pieces Sundae at Friendly's.
Speaking of comings and, in particular, goings, Heavy Artillery notes with some tinge of lament for unfulfilled potential the trade this week that sent Reds' fourth outfielder Chris Heisey to the hated Dodgers for a AAA pitcher with a 5+ ERA. In the broader context, this trade may signal the paving of the way for both the Dodgers to trade away one of their excess of All-Star caliber outfielders and for the Reds to trade away Johnny Cueto or Mat Latos. One of the small pleasures of baseball fandom is championing a favored utility player beyond - acknowledged - reasonable expectations and for me Chris Heisey has recently been that player. In truth, Heisey was given every opportunity to become a starting left fielder for the Reds but never quite [mixing of sports metaphors warning!] seized the reins.
In the Reader Submission corner this week, Lou sent me the photo, below, of a personalized license plate spotted while on routine patrol on Miami's idyllic campus:
YYZ is the three-letter International Air Transport Association code for Toronto (Canada) Pearson International Airport. "YYZ" is more widely known as the title of the greatest rock instrumental of all-time, a song off the unparalleled 1981 Rush album Moving Pictures. Moving Pictures, along with all the other greatest Rush albums, was recorded at Le Studio in Morin Heights, Quebec, Canada. Rush drummer/lyricist Neil Peart recently wrote about the significance of Le Studio to the development of Rush as a band and to Neil as a composer in the essay "Science Island" published on his personal website (if you scroll down to the bottom of the first page, Neil's discussion of Le Studio begins there and continues onto the following page). For Rush fans, Le Studio is just about as hallowed a place as one can find in Rushdom. Neil included in his essay some recent photos of the abandoned Le Studio that are eerie and stand in stark contrast to the vibrancy of its heyday, examples of which you may observe here and here and here. If you've never read Neil Peart (for example, his award-nominated Ghost Rider), this essay serves as an adequate introduction. Interestingly (perhaps only to me), one Rush fanatic has begun a Rush-centric (but not to say Rush-exclusive) documentary series of Le Studio that is both comprehensive and illuminative... all rather surprising when you observe the low-budget quality of his production. A+ for effort, but I'm certain he doesn't have the rights to use all the music he has included. We'll see how far he manages to extend this project before copyrights and royalties torpedo his dream.
Roll the credits!
As much as I loathe winter and cold weather, The Ranch and its immediate environs makes for a Winter Wonderland. Waking up last Monday morning, this scene (below) greeted me outside my bedroom window:
Next, I checked out the West 40 (below):
Oddly enough, there was a similar scene looking southbound:
Thankfully, it took but one hour to shovel the drive and most of the snow melted by the weekend.
On Saturday night we had a spaghetti dinner in honor of Mr B's 81st birthday (which, factually, was not Saturday). Afterward, heading back to The Ranch, I once again rocked out to one of the great unknown Pete Townshend songs on the Jeep Main Battle Tank's SatComm system:
In a Groundhog Day turn of events, "Slit Skirts" is the closing track on Townshend's 1982 solo album All The Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes. This is a strikingly similar coincidence to last week's HA posting in which I highlighted Townshend's "Gonna Get Ya," which itself is the final track on Pete's 1980 solo album Empty Glass. Chinese Eyes is a sneaky-good album, even its rejects are good.
Roll the credits!
Here are some photographic odds and ends from last month. First, and best:
OK, I'm cheating here. This photo was taken on September 30th.
The thinking is that this squirrel attempted to leap from the ash tree, behind him (background), onto the roof of The Ranch. As they so often do. And, this time, came up a little short.
On October 1st, My Dear Elderly Mother and I spent the day at the Clark County Heritage Center in Springfield, OH doing some intensive genealogical research.
I spent six hours examining their War of the Rebellion collection:
All 8,000 [+/-] volumes. There is an index for this 9-shelf volume of books which I've referred to on a previous visit... but I could not locate it on this day. So I went through the index of each individual book. I found a lot of useful information, a portion of which may appear here sometime in 2015. Stay tuned. I abused the copy machine with remorseless abandon that afternoon, making more than 200 copies. Boo-yah! Although the helpful and friendly staff assured me that it wasn't a record (yes, I asked).
There are some cool architectural features to the Heritage Center:
It's a lovely place to spend the day.
On the 5th of October I snapped this pink and purple sunset:
It was vastly more spectacular in person. My Android GalaxyS9000 didn't adequately capture the full spectrum of color. Where is Bob Ross when you need him?
I caught a rare sighting on the 13th:
A Ford Pinto! As you may observe, I kept a safe distance.
Three nights later, following a spaghetti dinner with Mr B, I rocked out to a great tune on the Jeep Main Battle Tank's satellite radio:
One of the great, unknown Pete Townshend songs off the 1980 Empty Glass album. I have a cherished, vivid memory of cruising around town one rainy springtime afternoon senior year of high school, just a month or so before graduation, cranking this song out the Tank's [1979 Ford LTD] six-speaker stereo system. It was exactly the kind of day I used to like; persistent, heavy rain, the blooming flowers and verdant green of new leaves tempered by some minor degree of fog. A Quadrophenia kind of day. I had characteristicly blown off school that day, and this scene unfolded during the school day. I was by myself, youthful and full of life. Each time I'm in the car and this song is on the radio, I think back to that halcyon day of twentieth century yesteryear and I feel transported in time. I can hear the rain, sense the brisk chill in the air, observe the smooth power and easy speed of the Tank on those wet streets and feel Pete Townshend's power chords reverberating throughout every fiber of my being.
On October 22nd, Miami University was graced by a visit from syndicated columnist George Will:
Naturally, there was a ridiculous protest.
Even more ridiculous, and sinister, is the visit domestic terrorist Bill Ayers is - allegedly - clandestinely making to Miami's campus. At Buddy LaRosa's last week I couldn't help but overhear the obnoxious Ivory Tower-type on her phone, exuberantly telling a colleague about this pending event. The joy in her inflection obvious. My interwebzzz investigation into this purported visit initially failed to turn up any corroborative evidence that might support this claim. A search of the local newspapers revealed nothing (as usual). A search of Miami's own website did not return any results for "Bill Ayers" or "domestic terrorist" or "communist subversive." Funny, that. Paging through the university's published calendar of upcoming events, I found this (scheduled tentatively, pending the forecasted 3" to 5" of White Death for tomorrow):
If this is in fact the event, isn't it interesting that nowhere mentioned is this nationally-recognized figure. It's almost as if nobody wants to advertise his presence in the event because, you know, some on-campus group(s) might like to organize a protest. Right Wingers are fair game for hectoring, but don't you dare stir up trouble over our heroes of anti-Americanism! And the fact that Miami offers a course tiled "Social Justice and Transformation" is likewise repulsive (yes, I am confident Miami is not alone among institutions of higher learning in this odious offering). Social Justice is code for communism and Transformation is code for communist revolution. Thus, the non-code worded title for this course is "EDL 782; Communism and Communist Revolution." Just imagine what kind of caustic (yet always respectful) philosophical and rhetorical disturbance I would create in that class, and just imagine how low a grade the KomIntern agent professor (who, I am certain, is a kind and thoughtful individual - see? Respectful!) might assign to me as a semester grade. The number low enough to represent my grade hasn't yet been discovered by mathematicians!
Roll the credits!
Last week while you were enchanted by Indiana Ghosts I was fully engulfed in Breeders' Cup handicapping. Hours were joyfully spent each day with my Daily Racing Form "Breeders' Cup Advance" issue and my studiousness was righteously rewarded in the manner of large round numbers. We'll get to that, later. I got together with The Old Master of the Turf for a working dinner the Wednesday before to discuss this 31st running of the World Thoroughbred Championships. There also was some logistical strategizing for D-Day (BC-Day?) that required formalization:
One of the elements I most look forward to when reading the DRF "Breeders' Cup Advance" issue are the oddities, from a North American perspective, of European horse racing. For example;
A horse finishing twenty-seventh by 36 and three-quarter lengths. What you cannot see in the image above is that this race was at a mere mile distance, barely longer than a sprint and - perhaps most astonishing of all - three horses finished behind this recalcitrant steed.
Then there was this gem of parimutuel wagering:
A horse recently going off at odds of 100-1.
And this;
The British horse Brown Panther routinely racing at distances between two and two and one-half miles. In these United States, races of one and one-half miles (like the Belmont Stakes) are exceptional and races at greater distances are exceedingly rare. Brown Panther is just getting warmed up at 1.5 miles.
My own picks were completed (contingent upon late scratches, jockey changes, equipment changes, venue changes, variations in expected weather conditions, seismic activity in southern California, etc.) by Thursday evening so that I could participate in both tricking and treating on Friday. I did not discover until Friday that my eldest Disney XD niece, now being a teenager and thus too cool to hang out with her family on Halloween, had ditched us in favor of joining three of her school chums in dressing as the four adolescent genetically mutated martial artist shell-wearing reptiles of pizza-eating fame. Cowabunga, dude! Cowabunga, indeed. Lou and I escorted Wonder Woman around her neighborhood:
A minor inconvenience such as a fractured knee cap would not prevent this super heroine from crime fighting nor candy acquisition [foreshadowing]. Aside from the boots and crutches, that was a home-made costume that Lou's mother-in-law created with the capable assistance of Diana Prince (aka Wonder Woman) herself.
With this year's BC being run at Santa Anita Race Course in scenic Arcadia, CA, The B Team Syndicate was off to a later start than we are accustomed on race days. I picked up The Old Master of the Turf ahead of schedule (always ahead of schedule with Mr B). Below you will find a rare exterior spyshot of Mr B's mid-century modern top secret bunker in an undisclosed location that was taken from the command seat of the Jeep Main Battle Tank prior to a high-level spaghetti dinner we shared on October 16. This scene was similar to the rendezvous that took place Saturday afternoon.
The Incomparable Joe Wilhelm hates my satellite radio presets.
Upon arrival at Turfway Park we soon were shown to a corner table in The Homestretch Room and got down to serious buffet raiding. On the menu this year was roast turkey, roast ham, (no prime rib, much to our grave disappointment) smashed 'taters (remember, this is Kentucky), steamed carrots (that were cold), allegedly steamed green beans (more like carbon frozen), a pasta and tomato sauce concoction that was watery, bland and awful, salad, and assorted fruits and pastries. The desserts were better and varied from cakes to pies to cookies fresh from the oven. The cookies were hotter than the veggies. If you go to Turfway, get the burger and fries they sell at the concession stand. Surprisingly they're quite good.
For the past few years the Breeders' Cup has expanded into being a two-day event. The Old Master of the Turf made a quick trip to Miami Valley Gaming in order to pick up a few Saturday editions of the Daily Racing Form for his cosa nostra of old school horse players but also to put down a few bets on the Friday races. I sent along with Mr B two WIN wagers on:
Hootenanny in the Juvenile Turf, and:
Osaila in the Juvenile Fillies Turf.
What these two horses had in common was the Italian-born, English-based jockey, Lanfranco "Frankie" Dettori. Dettori is, as has be written here before, the greatest jockey in the world. Frankie has so few rides in these United States that I bet him every opportunity I can. He won aboard Hootenanny at something like 7-1 odds but finished third on Osaila. And so as I began digging into my pockets in order to wager on Saturday's races, I was already comfortably ahead.
Saturday's first three races on the race card were not Breeders' Cup races and so collectively The B Team Syndicate skipped them. Thus, the 2014 World Thoroughbred Championships began with Race 4, the Juvenile Fillies. It was won by a 60-1 longshot. Nobody at our table - and perhaps nobody at Turfway Park - had the winner.
Race 5 was the Filly and Mare Turf. Due to overnight rains in Arcadia, CA, the turf course at Santa Anita was listed as being in "Good" condition, or one level of classification below "Firm" (the equivalent to a "Fast" dirt track). My WIN/PLACE and Exacta bets were losers, but I hit the Trifecta which paid $182.20 for a $1 wager:
Out of modesty and also due to a heightened level of caution over an Internal Revenue Left-Wing Hit Squad Service which has been criminally targeting outspoken Conservatives, I have decided to redact the size of my wagers (remember kids, the largest monopoly is the federal government). At this early stage, thanks to my win Friday on Dettori and then this Trifecta, I was going to exit Breeders' Cup day in positive territory. I was not going to wager enough after this point to erase all my winnings.
For the Filly and Mare Sprint, Race 6, on a "Fast" dirt track I cashed WIN and PLACE money on the winner, a Ghostzapper mare named Judy the Beauty.
This wager paid $32 for a $2 wager. I also wagered on Judy the Beauty to win this same race last year but in that effort she finished second by a half-length.
For Race 7, the Turf Sprint, I loaded up on another Frankie Dettori mount, a horse wearing saddle cloth 14 (there's that number again!) named No Nay Never. I thought this was Dettori's best opportunity to win on Saturday, as did a substantial number of other bettors who sent No Nay Never to the starting gate at odds of 7-2. Five strides from the finish I had the winner. Or so I thought. A furious finish found me coming out on the favorable side of a photo-finish for second and, more importantly, PLACE money. Lou said the effort from the horse that won, coming from last to first, was moving so fast at the finish that it looked like something out of a cartoon. No Nay Never paid $6.60 to PLACE.
I didn't cash any tickets on Race 8, the Juvenile. For those of you who might be interested in the particulars (you know who you are), I wagered on the #12 Daredevil. Daredevil was five-wide around the first turn, four-wide around the second turn and, as a result, faded to last by the time the field hit the top of the homestretch. Blame the poor showing of Daredevil squarely on the jockey.
For the mile and a half Turf, Race 9, I sided with the British horse Flintshire. Flintshire was the second betting choice, at odds of 3-1 and was entering this race directly from a second-place finish in the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe three weeks earlier. Flintshire finished second in the Turf.
I tossed the eventual winner (Main Sequence, at odds of 6-1) into a three-horse Exacta Box which returned $32.40 for a $2 wager (the PLACE money on Flintshire was $4.80).
My two horses in the Race 10 Sprint, a Breeders' Cup race that I seem to have a better record for success than any other BC races, finished second and third (and my third-place horse, Private Zone at 8-1, was the horse upon which I wagered WIN and PLACE money). So no success there.
Had not Wise Dan aka The Free Money Express experienced soreness which led him to being sidelined for the Mile (Race 11), he'd have gone off as the favorite in the attempt to win his third-straight Breeders' Cup Mile. With Wise Dan out of the Mile, bettors scrambled to find a winner in the one race that they were expecting to not have to handicap. My exhaustive week-long handicapping exercises led me to a Japanese horse, the grandsire of which was 1989 Kentucky Derby winner Sunday Silence, named Karakontie.
Karakontie, although bred in Japan, had been racing in France at Longchamp and Chantilly. At the end of his 2013 campaign, as a two-year old colt, he won a Group 3 race (akin to a Grade 3 race here in these United States). In a sign of the quality of the field Karakontie beat that day, the second-place horse won his next time out. Karakontie began his 2014 campaign with a second-place finish, by a mere neck, in a Group 3 race. The winner of that Group 3 race was a very good Euro named Ectot and Ectot won his next time out. Karakontie followed up that narrow loss with a win in a three-quarter million dollar Group 1 race. His following race was at a distance almost a half-mile further than Karakontie, evidently, wants to run. In that Group 1 race he finished 8th out of 16 horses. Then, in Karakontie's most recent race he finished 11th in a 14-horse Group 1 field. But when one reads the so-called trouble line description for that race, it says; Checked 1 furlong in, lacked room, switched outside, rough trip. In the old adage of horse racing, a handicapper should have "drawn a line" through those two most recent races. Obviously, Karakontie encountered difficulties in those two races which precluded him from showing his best effort or from showing the kind of effort needed to win the 2014 Breeders' Cup Mile. However, it was evident that the Breeders' Cup bettors hadn't done this as the odds on Karakontie ballooned from his 10-1 morning line odds to 30-1 at post time.
Coming full circle, the Breeders' Cup Mile was set up - from a handicapping standpoint - to steal candy from babies.
I had the #14 (there's that number again!) Karakontie to WIN and PLACE, The Old Master of the Turf had Karakontie to WIN and PLACE and Lou, having a rough day of handicapping, loaded up on Karakontie.
Karakontie stormed home the winner, paying $62 to WIN and $33 to PLACE for your respective $2 wagers. Thus, $2 to WIN and PLACE (a $4 wager in total) on Karakontie returned $95. I snapped the photo below from the race replay which showed both the #14 Karakontie and his 30-1 post time odds:
This was a proud moment for me. As was Mr B getting on the phone to brag about what a great handicapper I am:
On this Breeders' Cup Saturday I cashed 6 winning tickets, and for the whole Breeders' Cup weekend (including Friday's score by Frankie Dettori) I cashed 7 winning Breeders' Cup tickets. That is probably a record for me.
For the Classic (the final - and featured - Breeders' Cup race), I talked myself out of betting eventual winner Bayern (although I included him on my back-up Pick Six ticket). This was the only race in which I did not wager on the horse that I'd handicapped earlier in the week. Serves me right.
You'd think that with all these winning tickets that The B Team Syndicate Pick Six must have been a winner. In thinking this you would be wrong. Somehow we managed to hit 1 out of 6 on our syndicate ticket (I had 2 of 6 correct on my smaller back-up ticket). About as poor a showing as The B Team Syndicate has ever had on a Pick Six. In fact, there were no 6-of-6 winners on the Breeders' Cup Pick Six (the consolation payout for 5-of-6 paid $114,000.00) and so there was a carryover to the next day, Sunday, of $1.5 million. That Sunday being the final day of racing at Santa Anita for the current live meet there was a mandatory payout, meaning that if there were no tickets with 6-of-6 or 5-of-6 or even 4-of-6 correct, 3-of-6 could be the winning combination. Or 2-of-6..... you get the idea. On the drive home Saturday night we discussed taking a shot at the mandatory payout Pick Six, seeing as how we were so flush with cash money, but Lou had to work and Mr B was physically exhausted from the long day we'd just spent. So you might imagine my surprise when Sunday evening Mr B called asking me, urgently, to go online and look up the payouts for the Santa Anita Pick Six. Not only had The Old Master of the Turf gone to Miami Valley Gaming without me (or Lou's one-third share), but he had a $2 Pick Six ticket in his pocket which, he thought, had 4-of-6 correct (in fact, Mr B did have 4-of-6 correct):
Minutes later I had the bad news to report; There were 6-of-6 tickets which paid $115,000.00 and the consolation payout for 5-of-6 correct paid $571.00.
Waking up Sunday morning I discovered the Heavy Artillery mainframe was again non-responsive and so on Tuesday I utilized my Breeders' Cup winnings in upgrading the HA mainframe to a terabyte beast that sounds like a Ford Model T when operational. Hmmm.....
Finally, as a means to gauge my own efforts, I like to compare my handicapping efforts with those of the experts at the Daily Racing Form. I think the DRF has a great staff of smart handicappers, among the best anywhere (but there are others as well; Randy Moss and Mike Battaglia at NBC Sports, Steve Haskin at The Blood-Horse...). On Breeders' Cup day the DRF assembles their experts' picks for the entire BC race card in one, two-page, easy-to-read graph:
Among the published picks from their 15 experts, just one - Brad Free - had correctly picked as many as two winners on Saturday. Seven of the DRF experts picked zero winners on Saturday. The far right-hand column (above) represents their synthesized "consensus" picks; one winner. Shockingly, for six of Saturday's nine Breeders' Cup races, the DRF consensus picks did not even include the eventual winner among their top four finishers. My two winners (grudgingly not including my "pick" of Bayern since I did not wager on him), Judy the Beauty and Karakontie, had me exactly equal to the best handicapping that the DRF experts themselves could muster. Which, as you long-time readers already know, is typical. There are no professional handicappers better than me. Or The B Team Syndicate. But mostly me.
Roll the credits!
