..... Plus, I felt compelled to provide a quick-fix, stopgap post this week in place of any real, new material. [Foreshadowing/Spoiler Alert: The Old Master of the Turf likes Materiality in the Belmont Stakes, two weeks from this Saturday.]
Among the four Preakness Day Pick 4 races I addressed in last week's post, I hit the front and back end of the Pick 4 wager - which pays nothing - and cashed a straight Win bet on Holy Boss in that exotic wager's first leg. It was the only ticket I cashed, permitting me to break even on the afternoon. Much as on Derby Day, I had winners in 50% of the races upon which I wagered (having included Preakness Stakes winner American Pharoah in my Pick 4). Shrinking Violet in the second leg of the Pick 4 finished third by little more than a length, so I was that close to having three of four correct in the Pick 4. Which still pays nothing.
Beyond that, my prognostication bona fides were further enhanced by my correctly identifying that Dortmund, the second wagering choice in the Morning Line odds, would go off at post time as the third wagering choice. Additionally, the only other forecast I made for the day placed the chance for rain at 90% (and the rain fell in torrents) far out-pacing the so-called professional meteorologists and their weak-sister 30% chance predictions.
Doppler Heavy Artillery, the true weather authority!
And oddsmaker.
And all-around great guy.
For my next trick, I am predicting for myself a peanut butter sammich for lunch today.
Roll the credits!
May 20, 2015
May 14, 2015
Jewels; Literary, Visual & Equine
"Good writing makes a person think. Sitting quietly and thinking is almost a lost art. And writing is really hard. Good ideas tend to write themselves. But on a bad day, having to squeeze sense out of a lousy idea is as hard as any trade."
The above quote was not crafted, shockingly, with the voluminous postings of Heavy Artillery in mind. We'll return to the source and subject of the quote further down this post.
For those millions of us watching/wagering on this year's Kentucky Derby away from the peaceful solitude of our homes and away from our 800-inch high resolution curved-screen 4D televisions, we missed the much hyped NBC Sports broadcast intro narrated by The Blue Grass State's own Ashley Judd and which featured a Ken Burns Baseball-esque soundtrack, sweeping panoramas of horse farms, swirling translucent bourbon, prancing horses, southern Belles, hard-charging thoroughbreds, roaring crowds and - mixing television network metaphors - the thrill of victory and the suggestion of fans being showered in riches. You may have missed it, too. You can check out the 2-minute clip here.
Last month I shared with you the pictorial feature Calumet Farm; The Rebirth of a Legend as published by The Blood-Horse. That same publication posted a 5-minute film about the Calumet Farm trophy collection as is currently on display for public viewing at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington, KY. It will not surprise you to know that I've been to the Kentucky Horse Park on multiple occasions.
Returning to this post's opening quote, it originates from the mind of ESPN.com horse racing writer/humorist Jay Cronley and was taken from his recent column titled "A Worthy Investment." In it he shares his thoughts for why paying for the online version of The Daily Racing Form is a good investment of your pastime dollars. That point made, the author then explains why he prefers the good old fashioned print version of the DRF; a sentiment I share. I've often written here and on the ol' web page of yore about some of my favorite times of each year being those days and evenings - and in the case of the Breeders' Cup, a full week - spent in a quiet, secluded place pouring over every word, figure, number, and statistic to be found in the pages of a Daily Racing Form and taking time to pause, to consider and contemplate meaning and significance. Sure, I could handicap much faster if I tried but that wouldn't be nearly as personally rewarding..... if not always financially rewarding. Financial reward is welcome but not necessary for a pastime one loves. The smudgy ink stains my fingers and hands accumulate are an anachronistic echo of a time distantly receding.
Each year the Preakness Stakes provides handicappers with their easiest, or perhaps laziest, opportunity. We had handicapped the Derby down to a subatomic level, we watched the race and its innumerable replays. Other than reading a few post-Derby/pre-Preakness analyses, there's little more handicapping to be done. The Preakness field will include a half-dozen or so entries that were not eligible for the Derby and, in many years, are often Pimlico-based Maryland homebreds. With no chance of winning. Especially in recent years, the eventual Preakness winner raced two weeks earlier in the Derby. For those of you interested, read this column from The Blood-Horse and this brief analysis from Andy Beyer (originator of the Beyer Speed Figure).
As for this Saturday's Preakness Stakes, I expect the Kentucky Derby winner American Pharoah to run well and I think there is a strong probability that he will win. At short odds he does not present an appeal from a singular wagering perspective. From Derby to Preakness, historically, I tend to stay with my Derby horse so long as it ran well in victory at Churchill Downs on The First Saturday in May or if a plausible case could be made for a positive effort despite Derby defeat. I still like Dortmund. I have a concern he'll again inherit the early lead in the Preakness just as he did in the Derby but my expectation is that the shorter distance will work to his benefit and that he'll better fend off a late challenge. My hope is that Dortmund will stalk the pace and have a target to run down in the Pimlico homestretch.
For those few of you with an interest in placing a wager for the fun of cashing a winning ticket, a 1-2-8 Trifecta Box appears to be among the safer exotic wagers. It won't pay much, so don't quit your day job.
A cursory scan of the Preakness Day undercard doesn't, at first glance, appear very strong. The $1.5 million guaranteed Late Pick 4 (beginning with Race 10) has its own appeal. Based on nothing more than a look at the entries (here), caveat emptor, I'd use:
Race 10 - the #9 Holy Boss (morning line odds 6-1)
Race 11 - the 2-1 morning line favorite #5 Shrinking Violet (and maybe also play the #8 Satan's Mistress at odds of 20-1).
Race 12 - the Chilean-bred #5 Tricky Hat (12-1)
Race 13 - the #2 Dortmund (morning line second choice at 7-2, I suspect he'll be the third betting choice at post time). Maybe toss in all three of the Derby top finishers to play it safe.
I can burn the $12 if it all goes down in flames.
Be advised, the early forecast is for a 30% chance of rain in Baltimore on Saturday. With advances in modern meteorology, that may translate by Saturday morning to a 90% chance of rain. Two horses in the Preakness field - Mr Z and Danzig Moon - were sired by Malibu Moon, himself a good mudder and a sire of successful mudders. His mother may or may not have been a mudder.
Preakness Stakes winners are awarded the most fabulous trophy in all of sportsdom, the Woodlawn Vase. You can learn more here.
And speaking of fabulous.....
Roll the credits!
May 5, 2015
Kentucky Derby 141
Whoever said horse racing is dead? Attendance at Churchill Downs this year topped 170,000, setting a new all-time record for the Kentucky Derby. According to reports, this was the most-watched Kentucky Derby since 1992 with 18 million viewers tuning into NBC to watch the race. Of course, those outmoded Nielsen Ratings do not take into account viewers - like The B Team Syndicate - at simulcast venues, at OTBs, or watching on TVG, HRTV and so many more mobile platforms. These could add up to millions more viewers than simply that which NBC drew in to its own telecast. You can credit great weather for the massive on-track attendance and a deep field of quality contenders for the staggering broadcast viewership.
I met The Old Master of the Turf at his top secret bunker in an undisclosed location late in the day on Kentucky Derby Eve (or "Friday," for most of the world) to acquire from him my own Kentucky Derby "advance edition" of the Daily Racing Form as seen (below) resting on the center console of the Jeep Main Battle Tank.
Writing our names on the DRF cover is a long-standing tradition of The B Team Syndicate, the purpose of which is lost to the ages.
Having been greatly disappointed with the past few all-you-can-shovel buffet offerings at our usual raceday encampment, Turfway Park, The Old Master made a Douglas MacArthur-like command decision that The B Team Syndicate shall return to Indiana Downs & Casino in scenic Shelbyville, Hoosierville. Except it isn't called Indiana Downs anymore but rather Indiana Grand. And also The B Team Syndicate was down a man as Lou (B Team codename; B2) was drafted for duty serving as the emcee at a season-ending ice skating event. Those of you with children will understand. I'll say this about the Derby Day experience in Shelbyville; they do it right. A breakfast buffet, a lunch buffet, a dinner buffet, intermediate crunchy-munchies, complimentary programs and Derby glassware. There is no better Derby/Breeders' Cup buffet in the Tri-State. The drive, I-74 west from Cincinnati, is a 70 mph breeze. My one previous gripe was that Indiana Downs had some crummy 8-bit betting machines that couldn't accept denominations larger than a $20 bill. I'm happy to report that Indiana Grand has upgraded to modern, state-of-the-art machines that accept my pals U.S. Grant and Benjamin Franklin.
Among the variety of lunch buffet items, I opted for a Dairy Queen-like, Brazier Burger-esque cheeseburger. OK, I first made myself a double cheeseburger and went back later for a single cheeseburger:
Did I mention both the lunch and dinner buffet came with dessert selections? Those brownie bites were magnificent. I may have had a dozen.
If you are reading this and just happen to work for an evil bureaucratic goon squad proven to target for financial ruin Right-Wing patriotic real live nephews of Uncle Sam, please observe my notation next to the bold-print identification for Race 7 at upper left which records at that stage in the proceedings I was down $12.30. Further, research will show that my wagers as noted were all losers additionally costing me $24.50. Ergo, I was down nearly $40 after Race 7.
On Derby Day, the length of time between sequential races expands by leaps and bounds in order to accommodate the long lines at Churchill Downs betting windows. Having accomplished the handicapping heavy lifting the night before, I took the opportunity to surreptitiously photograph my immediate environs. The Indiana Grand racetrack, as seen from my table inside the clubhouse:
Indiana Grand hosted live racing that evening, boldly competing head-to-head for your Derby Day wagering dollars.
The walk from Clubhouse to casino is brief:
Is it legal to take these photographs? If not and you just happen to work for some federal level shadowy criminal investigation agency then my name is Randolpho Jaybird Cooper, Esquire.
Back at my table, I photographed The Old Master of the Turf in a moment of intense DRF scrutiny:
The Old Master was wearing his lucky [?] sweatshirt. At about 5pm, in advance of the dinner buffet being served, management at Indiana Grand sees fit to lower the clubhouse air temperature to something approximating deep space. I was wearing my lucky four-leaf clover boxer shorts, not photographed. Sorry ladies, Heavy Artillery is a SFW blog. Well, except for the quasi-legal photography of Randolpho Jaybird Cooper, Esquire. For some vocal minority of readers who've had their fill of non sequiturReds Zep Led Zep references you may rest easy.
Instead, get a load of this railbird sporting a Pink Floyd t-shirt in the clubhouse.
Oh no you didn't!
The dinner buffet was served and I got on my surf & turf groove:
Prime rib au jus. Salmon. Smashed 'taters. Fries. M&M cookies. If BBQ pulled pork or shrimp or oysters or pasta or salad or smoked brisket or cake or pie is more your taste, you could have helped yourself to that fare.
For the Derby, I dug deep into my pockets and pushed with both hands a stack of Treasury Notes into a betting machine for the 17+ hands big fellah, Dortmund. My Exacta Box was Dortmund-Frosted:
You can see my Derby wagers (Race 11) at left in the image above. Dortmund seized the early lead, which fully I did not expect, and stubbornly surrendered his lead within sight of thoroughbred immortality, finishing a noble third. Frosted charged down the homestretch like a freight train, which fully I did expect, rallying to finish a valiant fourth. At right, in the above image, you can see a few of my other big ticket misfired shell casings; $20 on Judy the Beauty (a less-than even money odds-on 4-5 favorite that lost by a nose), $40 on the longshot Chocolate Ride. Lou was not present to help fund my Derby Day Pick Six adventure and, rather surprisingly, The Old Master (codenamed B1) wanted no part of it. Therefore, my heavy-payload B Team Syndicate Pick Six was an alligator-armed B3 popgun wildly mixed metaphor Pick Six of the $32 caliber.
For the gerbils huddled under fluorescent light in a cubicle deep within the dungeons of the IRS Building in the District of Columbia, it should be evident by now that my day at the races was a financial loss and you have no reason to read any further.
Now that they've gone.....
Among the races which made up the Derby Day undercard, I cashed Win and Place wagers on Private Zone which upset the heavily favored 2014 Breeders' Cup Classic champion Bayern (sorry, Campbell!). Then there was this:
A $1 Superfecta Box that crowded my pocket with a handful of Benjamins.
Thus we now arrive at that point in the Derby recap where I demonstrate - once again - my superiority at handicapping races as compared to the best handicappers in the world, those being the DRF staff. Make no mistake, they are very good indeed!
The DRF assigned 3 handicappers to make their picks for the entire 13-race Derby Day race card (see image below):
We planned our arrival at Indiana Downs for a time after the first race had gone off, and - as usual - we split after the Derby (Race 11). As such, I did not handicap those races. In fairness, I am eliminating those three races from this discussion. Ergo, there were 10 races (Races 2 through 11) for which I and the DRF staff handicapped.
In the image above, I circled the name of a horse whenever a DRF staffer correctly picked the winner. Byron King correctly selected two winners among the 10 races for a 20% success rate. Marty McGee also had two of 10 winners (20%). Kenny Peck had a rough day, he was shut out (0%; we've all been there).
In the left-hand column, where you see the descending race numbers in a bold font, I circled the race numbers in which specifically I cashed a Win ticket; Races 4, 5 & 9. Three of 10, or 30%, surpassing the experts.
None of the three DRF staffers correctly handicapped a winning Trifecta combination in Races 2-11. We'll never know if/what the DRF staffers may have selected as fourth choices in each individual race, yet I cashed a winning Superfecta ticket in Race 8, surpassing the experts.
Mostly.
As you'll see below, five DRFers had the Kentucky Derby Superfecta, equaling my own Derby Day achievement in this area..... but not surpassing me.
Credit where credit is due.
The DRF assembled two dozen of their staff to make their top four selections singularly for the Kentucky Derby. Five were chosen to supplement their picks with a brief explanation of said picks. Dave Liftin, solely among the five, gave readers the winning Derby Superfecta (below):
Mr Liftin didn't give readers the picks in precisely the correct order (I've noted the order of finish for you in the image above), but Boxing his picks would have given you a winning Superfecta. On the other hand, Brad Free - who usually does an exemplary job - embarrassed the profession by giving DRF readers names of more than half the horses in the field (below):
Way to take a stand, Brad! #sarcasm
In addition to Dave Liftin, four other DRFers gave readers the winning Superfecta combination (below), with Randy Goulding nailing the correct order of finish!
Heavy Artillery tips its blasting cap to these fine handicappers for correctly picking the Derby 141 winner (chalk-eating weasels!).
For the [tax] record, you should assume the image above is photoshopped and bears no factual representation of how my Derby Day 141 unfolded. All told, I cashed winning tickets on five of the 10 races. Just know this; If in baseball you make an out 7 out of 10 times you're a Hall of Famer. Acknowledging that context, there isn't a handicapper alive today better than Mr Heavy Artillery. Who may or may not be Randolpho Jaybird Cooper, Esquire.
Ahem.
Roll the credits!
*********
I met The Old Master of the Turf at his top secret bunker in an undisclosed location late in the day on Kentucky Derby Eve (or "Friday," for most of the world) to acquire from him my own Kentucky Derby "advance edition" of the Daily Racing Form as seen (below) resting on the center console of the Jeep Main Battle Tank.
Writing our names on the DRF cover is a long-standing tradition of The B Team Syndicate, the purpose of which is lost to the ages.
Having been greatly disappointed with the past few all-you-can-shovel buffet offerings at our usual raceday encampment, Turfway Park, The Old Master made a Douglas MacArthur-like command decision that The B Team Syndicate shall return to Indiana Downs & Casino in scenic Shelbyville, Hoosierville. Except it isn't called Indiana Downs anymore but rather Indiana Grand. And also The B Team Syndicate was down a man as Lou (B Team codename; B2) was drafted for duty serving as the emcee at a season-ending ice skating event. Those of you with children will understand. I'll say this about the Derby Day experience in Shelbyville; they do it right. A breakfast buffet, a lunch buffet, a dinner buffet, intermediate crunchy-munchies, complimentary programs and Derby glassware. There is no better Derby/Breeders' Cup buffet in the Tri-State. The drive, I-74 west from Cincinnati, is a 70 mph breeze. My one previous gripe was that Indiana Downs had some crummy 8-bit betting machines that couldn't accept denominations larger than a $20 bill. I'm happy to report that Indiana Grand has upgraded to modern, state-of-the-art machines that accept my pals U.S. Grant and Benjamin Franklin.
Among the variety of lunch buffet items, I opted for a Dairy Queen-like, Brazier Burger-esque cheeseburger. OK, I first made myself a double cheeseburger and went back later for a single cheeseburger:
Did I mention both the lunch and dinner buffet came with dessert selections? Those brownie bites were magnificent. I may have had a dozen.
If you are reading this and just happen to work for an evil bureaucratic goon squad proven to target for financial ruin Right-Wing patriotic real live nephews of Uncle Sam, please observe my notation next to the bold-print identification for Race 7 at upper left which records at that stage in the proceedings I was down $12.30. Further, research will show that my wagers as noted were all losers additionally costing me $24.50. Ergo, I was down nearly $40 after Race 7.
On Derby Day, the length of time between sequential races expands by leaps and bounds in order to accommodate the long lines at Churchill Downs betting windows. Having accomplished the handicapping heavy lifting the night before, I took the opportunity to surreptitiously photograph my immediate environs. The Indiana Grand racetrack, as seen from my table inside the clubhouse:
Indiana Grand hosted live racing that evening, boldly competing head-to-head for your Derby Day wagering dollars.
The walk from Clubhouse to casino is brief:
Is it legal to take these photographs? If not and you just happen to work for some federal level shadowy criminal investigation agency then my name is Randolpho Jaybird Cooper, Esquire.
Back at my table, I photographed The Old Master of the Turf in a moment of intense DRF scrutiny:
The Old Master was wearing his lucky [?] sweatshirt. At about 5pm, in advance of the dinner buffet being served, management at Indiana Grand sees fit to lower the clubhouse air temperature to something approximating deep space. I was wearing my lucky four-leaf clover boxer shorts, not photographed. Sorry ladies, Heavy Artillery is a SFW blog. Well, except for the quasi-legal photography of Randolpho Jaybird Cooper, Esquire. For some vocal minority of readers who've had their fill of non sequitur
Instead, get a load of this railbird sporting a Pink Floyd t-shirt in the clubhouse.
Oh no you didn't!
The dinner buffet was served and I got on my surf & turf groove:
Prime rib au jus. Salmon. Smashed 'taters. Fries. M&M cookies. If BBQ pulled pork or shrimp or oysters or pasta or salad or smoked brisket or cake or pie is more your taste, you could have helped yourself to that fare.
For the Derby, I dug deep into my pockets and pushed with both hands a stack of Treasury Notes into a betting machine for the 17+ hands big fellah, Dortmund. My Exacta Box was Dortmund-Frosted:
You can see my Derby wagers (Race 11) at left in the image above. Dortmund seized the early lead, which fully I did not expect, and stubbornly surrendered his lead within sight of thoroughbred immortality, finishing a noble third. Frosted charged down the homestretch like a freight train, which fully I did expect, rallying to finish a valiant fourth. At right, in the above image, you can see a few of my other big ticket misfired shell casings; $20 on Judy the Beauty (a less-than even money odds-on 4-5 favorite that lost by a nose), $40 on the longshot Chocolate Ride. Lou was not present to help fund my Derby Day Pick Six adventure and, rather surprisingly, The Old Master (codenamed B1) wanted no part of it. Therefore, my heavy-payload B Team Syndicate Pick Six was an alligator-armed B3 popgun wildly mixed metaphor Pick Six of the $32 caliber.
For the gerbils huddled under fluorescent light in a cubicle deep within the dungeons of the IRS Building in the District of Columbia, it should be evident by now that my day at the races was a financial loss and you have no reason to read any further.
Now that they've gone.....
Among the races which made up the Derby Day undercard, I cashed Win and Place wagers on Private Zone which upset the heavily favored 2014 Breeders' Cup Classic champion Bayern (sorry, Campbell!). Then there was this:
A $1 Superfecta Box that crowded my pocket with a handful of Benjamins.
Thus we now arrive at that point in the Derby recap where I demonstrate - once again - my superiority at handicapping races as compared to the best handicappers in the world, those being the DRF staff. Make no mistake, they are very good indeed!
The DRF assigned 3 handicappers to make their picks for the entire 13-race Derby Day race card (see image below):
We planned our arrival at Indiana Downs for a time after the first race had gone off, and - as usual - we split after the Derby (Race 11). As such, I did not handicap those races. In fairness, I am eliminating those three races from this discussion. Ergo, there were 10 races (Races 2 through 11) for which I and the DRF staff handicapped.
In the image above, I circled the name of a horse whenever a DRF staffer correctly picked the winner. Byron King correctly selected two winners among the 10 races for a 20% success rate. Marty McGee also had two of 10 winners (20%). Kenny Peck had a rough day, he was shut out (0%; we've all been there).
In the left-hand column, where you see the descending race numbers in a bold font, I circled the race numbers in which specifically I cashed a Win ticket; Races 4, 5 & 9. Three of 10, or 30%, surpassing the experts.
None of the three DRF staffers correctly handicapped a winning Trifecta combination in Races 2-11. We'll never know if/what the DRF staffers may have selected as fourth choices in each individual race, yet I cashed a winning Superfecta ticket in Race 8, surpassing the experts.
Mostly.
As you'll see below, five DRFers had the Kentucky Derby Superfecta, equaling my own Derby Day achievement in this area..... but not surpassing me.
Credit where credit is due.
The DRF assembled two dozen of their staff to make their top four selections singularly for the Kentucky Derby. Five were chosen to supplement their picks with a brief explanation of said picks. Dave Liftin, solely among the five, gave readers the winning Derby Superfecta (below):
Mr Liftin didn't give readers the picks in precisely the correct order (I've noted the order of finish for you in the image above), but Boxing his picks would have given you a winning Superfecta. On the other hand, Brad Free - who usually does an exemplary job - embarrassed the profession by giving DRF readers names of more than half the horses in the field (below):
Way to take a stand, Brad! #sarcasm
In addition to Dave Liftin, four other DRFers gave readers the winning Superfecta combination (below), with Randy Goulding nailing the correct order of finish!
Heavy Artillery tips its blasting cap to these fine handicappers for correctly picking the Derby 141 winner (chalk-eating weasels!).
For the [tax] record, you should assume the image above is photoshopped and bears no factual representation of how my Derby Day 141 unfolded. All told, I cashed winning tickets on five of the 10 races. Just know this; If in baseball you make an out 7 out of 10 times you're a Hall of Famer. Acknowledging that context, there isn't a handicapper alive today better than Mr Heavy Artillery. Who may or may not be Randolpho Jaybird Cooper, Esquire.
Ahem.
Roll the credits!
May 1, 2015
The Handlebar at GABP; Part 3 - The Ugly
As stated previously, Lou and I arrived at the ballpark on Saturday at about 12:30pm, nearly 45 minutes prior to the scheduled first pitch. As that afternoon's rain delay stretched into its 2nd, then 3rd, then 4th hours, Lou and I could be excused for inventing means of distracting ourselves:
One of the ways we passed the time included taking photographs:
Here (above) is a photo of Lou returning from a visit to the Gents, mere minutes after Paul O'Neill ducked in. Or was it hours after Paulie? Time gradually distorted during Saturday's interminable rain delay. Spying my mischief, Lou struck a pose:
Following the conclusion of ceremonies honoring the Wire-to-Wire Reds of 1990, the folks in the scoreboard treated fans to a documentary about the 1990 Reds. Then an MLB Network Hall of Fame weekend interview of Bench, Perez and Morgan. Then, keeping in theme with the '90 reunion weekend, a 2010 GABP post-game concert by MC Hammer. Yes. That MC Hammer:
In thrall of rain delay madness, I tilted my cap at a jaunty Yo! MTV Raps angle and embraced the spirit of the times:
The drunks standing nearby thought this was hilarious. Because I'm 2 Legit 2 Quit, I threw a lil' Bomb Squad action at 'em (below):
I don't think Rosie Red at left knew she was filling in for Kuertz' half of my tribute to our Bomb Squad role in the 1990 THS talent show act. BDDMC stands for Big Dave Devastating Mic Control.
I think some of you got a little worn out by all the Led Zeppelin references included in the Heavy Artillery recap of Opening Day. I'm sure you're relieved to not be subjected to any more Reds/Zep citations. It must be exhausting:
Oh no you didn't!
Dude was sporting a replica concert t-shirt from the 1977 North American tour which stopped in Cincinnati on April 19 & 20 of that year, performing at Riverfront Coliseum both nights. The Big Red Machine had an off day April 19th. The next night, Wednesday April 20, concurrent to Zeppelin rocking the neighboring Coliseum, the Reds lost to the hated Los Angeles Dodgers 3-1 at Riverfront Stadium. Don Sutton threw a complete game victory for the Dodgers, Fred Norman pitched 7 innings and took the loss for the Reds. Boxscore here. The 1977 Zeppelin tour was in support of the Presence album which featured the greatest-ever Led Zeppelin song.
A stand-up comedian of some alleged fame once made a career founded upon variants of a joke beginning You might be a redneck if..... Well, you might be experiencing an epic rain delay if the home team begins showing Bugs Bunny cartoons.
And you know - you just know - I took a photo of the Roebling Suspension Bridge.
The river was high, the current was swift. Minimal boat traffic navigated the mighty Ohio River that afternoon. Checking The Weather Channel's mobile site during the rain delay, the temperature dipped to 43 degrees with a "feels like 36" addendum. A very raw day indeed.
At about 4:30pm, thinking the game as regularly scheduled would have by then been over and they'd have been heading for home, some few of the Reds faithful in The Handlebar vamoosed. Finally, after about 4 hours on our feet, Lou and I had a table at which to rest our weary Nikes. For posterity, I took a photograph of where we'd been standing all those hours:
I used the Caution: Wet Floor traffic cone you see at far right as a barrier against incursion into our little nook (just out of frame, at right). Approximately 20 minutes after we sat down at our table, the Reds lowered the postponement boom on us:
It would have been nice to watch the game on that wall of video behind the bar. Fans promptly evacuated The Handlebar.
Lou axed if we, too, should vacate the premises. My response; "For what we paid to get in here, we're not leaving until security insists we disappear." #redsfanslivesmatter I circumnavigated The Handlebar taking a few last photos of the bar's expansive views:
Exiting, some 5 hours after we first arrived, Lou and I saw graphic evidence of the Horseshoe Casino's sponsorship of The Handlebar on the exterior of the elevator doors:
And Pete Rose is still banned.
Roll the credits!
One of the ways we passed the time included taking photographs:
Here (above) is a photo of Lou returning from a visit to the Gents, mere minutes after Paul O'Neill ducked in. Or was it hours after Paulie? Time gradually distorted during Saturday's interminable rain delay. Spying my mischief, Lou struck a pose:
Following the conclusion of ceremonies honoring the Wire-to-Wire Reds of 1990, the folks in the scoreboard treated fans to a documentary about the 1990 Reds. Then an MLB Network Hall of Fame weekend interview of Bench, Perez and Morgan. Then, keeping in theme with the '90 reunion weekend, a 2010 GABP post-game concert by MC Hammer. Yes. That MC Hammer:
In thrall of rain delay madness, I tilted my cap at a jaunty Yo! MTV Raps angle and embraced the spirit of the times:
The drunks standing nearby thought this was hilarious. Because I'm 2 Legit 2 Quit, I threw a lil' Bomb Squad action at 'em (below):
I don't think Rosie Red at left knew she was filling in for Kuertz' half of my tribute to our Bomb Squad role in the 1990 THS talent show act. BDDMC stands for Big Dave Devastating Mic Control.
I think some of you got a little worn out by all the Led Zeppelin references included in the Heavy Artillery recap of Opening Day. I'm sure you're relieved to not be subjected to any more Reds/Zep citations. It must be exhausting:
Oh no you didn't!
Dude was sporting a replica concert t-shirt from the 1977 North American tour which stopped in Cincinnati on April 19 & 20 of that year, performing at Riverfront Coliseum both nights. The Big Red Machine had an off day April 19th. The next night, Wednesday April 20, concurrent to Zeppelin rocking the neighboring Coliseum, the Reds lost to the hated Los Angeles Dodgers 3-1 at Riverfront Stadium. Don Sutton threw a complete game victory for the Dodgers, Fred Norman pitched 7 innings and took the loss for the Reds. Boxscore here. The 1977 Zeppelin tour was in support of the Presence album which featured the greatest-ever Led Zeppelin song.
A stand-up comedian of some alleged fame once made a career founded upon variants of a joke beginning You might be a redneck if..... Well, you might be experiencing an epic rain delay if the home team begins showing Bugs Bunny cartoons.
And you know - you just know - I took a photo of the Roebling Suspension Bridge.
The river was high, the current was swift. Minimal boat traffic navigated the mighty Ohio River that afternoon. Checking The Weather Channel's mobile site during the rain delay, the temperature dipped to 43 degrees with a "feels like 36" addendum. A very raw day indeed.
At about 4:30pm, thinking the game as regularly scheduled would have by then been over and they'd have been heading for home, some few of the Reds faithful in The Handlebar vamoosed. Finally, after about 4 hours on our feet, Lou and I had a table at which to rest our weary Nikes. For posterity, I took a photograph of where we'd been standing all those hours:
I used the Caution: Wet Floor traffic cone you see at far right as a barrier against incursion into our little nook (just out of frame, at right). Approximately 20 minutes after we sat down at our table, the Reds lowered the postponement boom on us:
It would have been nice to watch the game on that wall of video behind the bar. Fans promptly evacuated The Handlebar.
Lou axed if we, too, should vacate the premises. My response; "For what we paid to get in here, we're not leaving until security insists we disappear." #redsfanslivesmatter I circumnavigated The Handlebar taking a few last photos of the bar's expansive views:
Exiting, some 5 hours after we first arrived, Lou and I saw graphic evidence of the Horseshoe Casino's sponsorship of The Handlebar on the exterior of the elevator doors:
And Pete Rose is still banned.
Roll the credits!
April 30, 2015
The Handlebar at GABP; Part 2 - The Bad
What, you axe Marty, could possibly be considered bad about The Handlebar at The Riverfront Club? Only the ubiquitous consumer complaint; cost relative to service rendered.
Since I often attend Reds games with octogenarians who do not like to sit outside during inclement spring or hazy hot humid summer games I had become, over the past seasons, a fairly regular guest inside the old Riverfront Club. Originally, the Reds offered Riverfront Club access only to full-season (81 games) ticket holders and only via the purchase of an additional season-long membership somewhat akin to a country club membership. As I recall it was fairly expensive and, as one might expect, few in Reds Country took the bait. After a season or two of that initial policy, the Reds expanded the offer to purchase a Riverfront Club membership to any season ticket holder. This also seemed not to have increased interest in the old Riverfront Club. Eventually the Reds further relaxed restrictions, first allowing any season ticket holder to simply reserve a table on an individual game basis and then, finally, permitting anyone with a gameday ticket access. The Riverfront Club always offered two seating options, one an hour so in advance of the game and a second seating during the game. I consistently opted for the in-game seating so as to not be run off prior to the game's completion. In my experiences, the three levels of tables which all had a field view, were invariably occupied. The main level of the Riverfront Club also had tables (and the bar) but as they had no field view they routinely were unoccupied. The all-you-can-eat buffet was expansive in its dining options and the quality of offerings were unparalleled outside the best four- or five-star restaurants.
To be clear; you paid for the privilege of fine dining, climate control, and patrons still had a field view with the added benefit of having Marty & the Cowboy piped into the Riverfront Club (sans commercials, too!). Over the years, as I recall, the bill of fare usually worked out to approximately $50 per person before gratuity - drinks were not included in the price of the buffet, no free refills on soft drinks, and the excellent desserts were extra, also. Understanding and sympathetic to Bob Castellini's need to be profitable, and while fans couldn't quite get their money's worth, I think $50 +/- was a pretty fair deal. Just not one you'd wish to take advantage of more than a few times each season.
With the complete renovation of the Riverfront Club, in fact a transformation into The Handlebar, in advance of this summer's All-Star Game it is perfectly reasonable to expect an increase in pricing. The end product is a spectacular setting for an evening's entertainment at the ball yard. A variety of leather couches and chairs, high-backed upholstered chairs, tables & chairs and giant high-definition television screens, broadcast audio, the usual expansive view of ballpark and riverfront all achieved with high-end materials and a modern, stylish design ethos. The staff is friendly, helpful and engaging.
As you can see in the image above, aside from weekday games (but not weekend games) for season ticket holders, nobody can get into The Handlebar for less than $65 (and $85 for the non-season ticket holder riff-raff on weekends). Bear in mind, this is in addition to the cost of your admission ticket and - probably - parking. For Lou and I, that amounted to $93. Each.
So what's the problem? First, the minor issue we had of not being able to sit down at any point through the first 5 hours of the pre-game and ensuing rain delay. Yes, it is true that going in we understood there was no guarantee of either a direct field view nor any place to sit. It was a risk we took, but when one rolls the dice and comes up snake eyes, it may be understood why someone isn't happy. No doubt the Reds oversold admission but they didn't appear to be in violation of any fire codes so more power to 'em. Them's the breaks, as the old saying.
The primary compliant we had, really the only complaint - but it was significant - was not the quality of the buffet offerings (save for one example) but rather the selection offered. All-beef hot dogs (with all the standard fixings), some sort of gourmet sausage (for the uninitiated, gourmet means a dish with two too-many ingredients and it was prepared incorrectly), stir-fried rice (looked good, but a pretty inexpensive item), chicken wings (also inexpensive fare), two varieties of salad (ditto the rice and wings), tortilla chips with two varieties of gourmet salsa (but no nacho cheese, no traditional rojo salsa), popcorn, and peanuts. For dessert they made available sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies (both great), brownie bites (excellent), cake bites and bite-sized gourmet cookies of undetermined flavors. The chefs also offered something they referred to as a BLT slider. Served on a slider-sized bun (natch), the "bacon" as near as we could discern was a sort of Canadian bacon, blackened (gourmet) and tough as shoe leather. The "tomato", was a squirt of ketchup (I blame Dubya's FDA school lunch guidelines) and the "lettuce" was three thin sprigs of parsley. It was a serious disappointment. I'm sure the chefs' classmates back at gourmet school loved it. The soft drinks arrived in 10 oz cups, filled to the rim with ice. I had 4 Cokes, probably all-told about 16 ounces. All of which is a far cry from the prime rib and carved roast beef and hearty sides of yore in the Riverfront Club.
Throughout the duration of the rain delay, Lou and I updated the calculations on our running tab... we never came close to getting something like a fair deal. And we ate a ton of food. Understand this; the open bar included alcoholic beverages. For the half-day we spent in The Handlebar waiting out the rain delay there were patrons getting hammered to a degree seldom seen outside of Green Beer Day at Miami U. We surmised that if you're lucky enough to be in The Handlebar for a game which is delayed at the start for several hours and you intend to consume a half-dozen (or more) adult beverages and eat a truckload of food you might approach a fair deal at $65/per.
Part of the expressed desire to upgrade the old Riverfront Club was that it wasn't popular among fans (debatable) and that it also, significantly, was money-loser for the Reds. If it lost money, that was a pricing issue. Yet offering less for more isn't a long-term, viable solution to attract more patrons. To be fair, the Riverfront Club seats and carpeting was showing its age. I cannot imagine that once Reds fans experience the cost-to-service ratio of the new Handlebar that by season's end, and in following seasons, The Handlebar will be any more successful than the old Riverfront Club. Excepting an adjustment in pricing and/or offerings beyond what we experienced, I expect The Handlebar to be a ghost town saloon. Unfortunate, as The Handlebar is otherwise a well-executed facility.
My advice, unless you have a top secret source deep within the Reds organization who grants you free admission into The Handlebar, ixnay.
We got 'stached in The Handlbar!
Roll the credits!
Since I often attend Reds games with octogenarians who do not like to sit outside during inclement spring or hazy hot humid summer games I had become, over the past seasons, a fairly regular guest inside the old Riverfront Club. Originally, the Reds offered Riverfront Club access only to full-season (81 games) ticket holders and only via the purchase of an additional season-long membership somewhat akin to a country club membership. As I recall it was fairly expensive and, as one might expect, few in Reds Country took the bait. After a season or two of that initial policy, the Reds expanded the offer to purchase a Riverfront Club membership to any season ticket holder. This also seemed not to have increased interest in the old Riverfront Club. Eventually the Reds further relaxed restrictions, first allowing any season ticket holder to simply reserve a table on an individual game basis and then, finally, permitting anyone with a gameday ticket access. The Riverfront Club always offered two seating options, one an hour so in advance of the game and a second seating during the game. I consistently opted for the in-game seating so as to not be run off prior to the game's completion. In my experiences, the three levels of tables which all had a field view, were invariably occupied. The main level of the Riverfront Club also had tables (and the bar) but as they had no field view they routinely were unoccupied. The all-you-can-eat buffet was expansive in its dining options and the quality of offerings were unparalleled outside the best four- or five-star restaurants.
To be clear; you paid for the privilege of fine dining, climate control, and patrons still had a field view with the added benefit of having Marty & the Cowboy piped into the Riverfront Club (sans commercials, too!). Over the years, as I recall, the bill of fare usually worked out to approximately $50 per person before gratuity - drinks were not included in the price of the buffet, no free refills on soft drinks, and the excellent desserts were extra, also. Understanding and sympathetic to Bob Castellini's need to be profitable, and while fans couldn't quite get their money's worth, I think $50 +/- was a pretty fair deal. Just not one you'd wish to take advantage of more than a few times each season.
With the complete renovation of the Riverfront Club, in fact a transformation into The Handlebar, in advance of this summer's All-Star Game it is perfectly reasonable to expect an increase in pricing. The end product is a spectacular setting for an evening's entertainment at the ball yard. A variety of leather couches and chairs, high-backed upholstered chairs, tables & chairs and giant high-definition television screens, broadcast audio, the usual expansive view of ballpark and riverfront all achieved with high-end materials and a modern, stylish design ethos. The staff is friendly, helpful and engaging.
As you can see in the image above, aside from weekday games (but not weekend games) for season ticket holders, nobody can get into The Handlebar for less than $65 (and $85 for the non-season ticket holder riff-raff on weekends). Bear in mind, this is in addition to the cost of your admission ticket and - probably - parking. For Lou and I, that amounted to $93. Each.
So what's the problem? First, the minor issue we had of not being able to sit down at any point through the first 5 hours of the pre-game and ensuing rain delay. Yes, it is true that going in we understood there was no guarantee of either a direct field view nor any place to sit. It was a risk we took, but when one rolls the dice and comes up snake eyes, it may be understood why someone isn't happy. No doubt the Reds oversold admission but they didn't appear to be in violation of any fire codes so more power to 'em. Them's the breaks, as the old saying.
The primary compliant we had, really the only complaint - but it was significant - was not the quality of the buffet offerings (save for one example) but rather the selection offered. All-beef hot dogs (with all the standard fixings), some sort of gourmet sausage (for the uninitiated, gourmet means a dish with two too-many ingredients and it was prepared incorrectly), stir-fried rice (looked good, but a pretty inexpensive item), chicken wings (also inexpensive fare), two varieties of salad (ditto the rice and wings), tortilla chips with two varieties of gourmet salsa (but no nacho cheese, no traditional rojo salsa), popcorn, and peanuts. For dessert they made available sugar cookies, chocolate chip cookies (both great), brownie bites (excellent), cake bites and bite-sized gourmet cookies of undetermined flavors. The chefs also offered something they referred to as a BLT slider. Served on a slider-sized bun (natch), the "bacon" as near as we could discern was a sort of Canadian bacon, blackened (gourmet) and tough as shoe leather. The "tomato", was a squirt of ketchup (I blame Dubya's FDA school lunch guidelines) and the "lettuce" was three thin sprigs of parsley. It was a serious disappointment. I'm sure the chefs' classmates back at gourmet school loved it. The soft drinks arrived in 10 oz cups, filled to the rim with ice. I had 4 Cokes, probably all-told about 16 ounces. All of which is a far cry from the prime rib and carved roast beef and hearty sides of yore in the Riverfront Club.
Throughout the duration of the rain delay, Lou and I updated the calculations on our running tab... we never came close to getting something like a fair deal. And we ate a ton of food. Understand this; the open bar included alcoholic beverages. For the half-day we spent in The Handlebar waiting out the rain delay there were patrons getting hammered to a degree seldom seen outside of Green Beer Day at Miami U. We surmised that if you're lucky enough to be in The Handlebar for a game which is delayed at the start for several hours and you intend to consume a half-dozen (or more) adult beverages and eat a truckload of food you might approach a fair deal at $65/per.
Part of the expressed desire to upgrade the old Riverfront Club was that it wasn't popular among fans (debatable) and that it also, significantly, was money-loser for the Reds. If it lost money, that was a pricing issue. Yet offering less for more isn't a long-term, viable solution to attract more patrons. To be fair, the Riverfront Club seats and carpeting was showing its age. I cannot imagine that once Reds fans experience the cost-to-service ratio of the new Handlebar that by season's end, and in following seasons, The Handlebar will be any more successful than the old Riverfront Club. Excepting an adjustment in pricing and/or offerings beyond what we experienced, I expect The Handlebar to be a ghost town saloon. Unfortunate, as The Handlebar is otherwise a well-executed facility.
My advice, unless you have a top secret source deep within the Reds organization who grants you free admission into The Handlebar, ixnay.
We got 'stached in The Handlbar!
Roll the credits!
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