Horse Training...these are the days of our lives. The beginnings.

 

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.

Training horses is like a soap opera, it really is. The only difference being that in a soap opera, they show you all the details of the trauma. If you are a horse racing fan, you rarely get to see what really happens during the entire week when the horse is not on the track for 10 minutes in front of you. Every trainer, groom and horse has a story that never gets told or that is never known by the average guy.
I have mentioned Emersons Paradise in passing in many blogs. Near the end of my training days, he was my best horse. Best in terms of earning money. He was never really more than a cheap claimer, but he was sound, honest and a very nice horse to deal with. He did what he was told and he was happy as long as he was fed and got his paddock time to run free as much as possible. He was a joy to be around. He was just happy to be a horse and be well cared for. After he was done racing, I gave him away to a nice family with some kids, and they thought he was Secretariat. He was like a pet, and they basked in him and he with them. But, it wasn't the first time I'd had him in his career.

When he was just a colt, 3 years old, I spotted him warming up one day when I was at the races on an off day. He looked to be a perfect horse for me, after a string that were not. For a trainer who doesn't have to pay a training bill, or a groom, he could earn well for me and I could bank the profit. Not a good horse for an owner who had to pay all the bills. He was zero vet work, he was healthy most of the time, and he would earn steady if you put him in the right spot class wise and race wise every week. I think I won 3 races with him in the 6 or 7 months I had him the first time around, and he was claimed for exactly what I paid for him when I lost him. I was sorry to see him go, but I was in the racing game, not the barn pets game. I always kept my eye on him for the remaining years until I got him back. The last guy who had him couldn't do anything with him, and I approached him about either selling him to me, or letting me train him on a lease. He decided on the lease, and when I made him perform right away, and he was worth almost what he had paid for him, he decided to just sell him to me. He was good for me for another 2 years before some minor injuries and older age caught up with him.

But, the story of how I got to him and what I did after I lost him the first time around is what this blog is about. I will do it in parts, as its a long story. Just like a soap opera is.

Before Emersons Paradise the first time around I had gotten myself into a bad situation. I had a day job, a very good one in terms of money, and also a small stable of cheap horses which I inherited as a trainer--one who had never trained or groomed anything before, because my trainer could not handle them anymore. Out of the 5 he had for me as an owner, I took 3 that I wanted, and sold him the other one, while the 5th one was basically worthless to anybody and we gave her away for nothing. I started from there.

Nothing was race ready when I got them. They were still racehorses to some degree or the other. One was a turned out mare that I had bought to race and then breed. She injured herself fairly quickly right after I'd bought her, and she also wasn't very fertile as it turns out. So, she was being rested, and I thought I'd either try to breed her again, or get her back to the races. I was told by everyone who thought they knew better that her bowed tendon would preclude her from racing ever again. It was ugly, no doubt about that. When she arrived on the trailer with another one, she was dog lame. I couldn't figure out why, but it didn't appear to be her bad leg, as there was no heat in that and she didn't flinch at all when you touched her there. I turned her out and she walked lame, with a limp. After a day, a guy at the barn I had picked to train told me she had a big nail stuck in the middle of her foot. I held her head, he pulled it out, the blood came pouring out, and 2 days later she was completely sound. I didn't have time for her at this point anyway, so I just turned her out every day and let her run. And run she did. She was completely sound in the paddock and almost fit enough to race. She was very energetic and ran the paddock all day. That would be something I noted when I did get her back to the races. Her name was Almahurst Loraine, a big strapping, bossy and fast mare. She was big and strong, and if you didn't know better, you would say I had Niatross in the paddock. She looked just like him, and her mother was by Niatross. I had high hopes for her as a broodmare, but that never worked out.

The second one was called Eddie Lebec, named after the character on Cheers. I didn't name him. I bought him as an unraced 2yo when he didn't make it to the races for the people that bought him as a yearling. I paid very little, they paid too much. I thought he looked okay, he had good breeding, he was healthy and had no injuries. I thought I would take a shot. I went half with the trainer, but he couldn't make him go, and didn't want him, so I decided to take him on. It was a risky move for a novice trainer with no experience at all. One thing about him though, he was well behaved. He would do just about everything you asked, and he had some speed and grit. When a horse would come up beside him, even a racehorse that was much faster than him, he would not let them pass. He would go as far as he could until their advanced stage of development was too much for him at that point. I knew he would take a while, as he hadn't been trained at all in 2 months. I started back with him slowly, just jogging and building him up, seeing what he was like, reading what I could to see what I could do with him to make him into a racehorse and valuable to me. I thought he would make it eventually, if I took my time and let him develop. I didn't really ask much of him until the warmer weather came back, so he wasn't much work either.

The 3rd one was the easiest to work with, in terms of me knowing virtually nothing practical about training. He was perfect gaited, wore very little equipment, stood quietly and waited for you to give him his cue, and knew his way to the track and back. When you turned him to train fast, he did that and understood his job. I literally could not go wrong with a starter horse like this. He was the one I worked with and on every day either before work or after, sometimes both. When I had more time, when the days got longer, or on the weekends, I would fiddle with the other two and do more work on them. There was no rush. I was making very good money at my day job and I was taking my time and learning. I also had no truck or trailer, so it wasn't like I was going to go anywhere anytime soon with them when they were ready to go to the racetrack. It was a process, learning on the job, trial and error. Let me tell you, there were lots of errors. This horses' name was Edward Seelster, a horse I had claimed a year or more before for a group of friends to learn the owning game. He was also a cheap horse, like Emersons Paradise, and they were similar. Edward was small, steady, stout, consistent and easy to work with. Edward was another horse I bought back later in his life, and that is a story for another day.

When we first got him, there was a lot of room for improvement on the previous trainer, and we did that. He won his first start, and then was 2nd 3 times in a row after that. The money was good where he raced, and we did well. Eventually, he started to make smaller amounts only, and then got sore, so we shut him down in November. He arrived on my doorstep so to speak around February. I had hoped to have him ready by mid May, and was on track for that. It ended up he didn't get there until late June.

One thing about Edward is he didn't like being in his stall. In a perfect world, I would have lived at the farm I trained at, turned him out almost all the time, then just brought him in to train and put him right back out. He would have lasted and stayed healthier under those circumstances. I put him out with Loraine whenever he wasn't training and she was outside, and they were perfect mates. She was bossy and dominant, he was a happy go lucky gelding who knew his place and just let her boss him around. It was a perfect marriage for the two of them. She ran a lot, and she made him run...chased him to run, if he didn't want to. On the days I didn't have enough time to jog him, or it was too dark when I arrived, I put them out together for an hour while I did the stalls and that was enough to keep him fit. On the weekends I would train him as fast as he was fit to go at that point, and he was getting close to race speed. I trained him one last time in early May, and he was a week away from going to the track to prepare to race again for money. I couldn't have been more happy with him and the job I'd done, considering how little I knew then.

One thing about Edward, his biggest flaw was he had a bad stomach. That was manageable, but it was an issue to watch. He would tie up, and if you don't know what that is, its basically muscle cramps where he seizes up and doesn't want to move. The best thing for those types of horses is to always keep them moving. So, one night, just before he was to go to the track to train, I left him outside in a small pen beside the barn. I'd done that while I was there a few times, and he was good in it. He couldn't get out on his own, and it was to be a warm enough night to make it a good idea. In this case though, he didn't have Loraine to watch over him and his back.

I arrived very early the next morning, before work, and the sun had just come up. I saw Edward, and something wasn't right. There was blood all over his legs, and the little small pen had been torn up. My guess was that some wolves had tried to corner him and kill him, and he fought back, enough that they didn't succeed. Anyway, that set me back on him 3 weeks waiting for him to heal.

Wolves were an issue in that area. You saw them off in the distance every now and then when you jogged the horses on the track, and the odd time you would see one actually on the track. There are 3 types of horses and how they react to seeing a wolf. The first kind, like Eddie Lebec will keep going forward but shy towards the inside of the track to avoid getting close to them. That is the majority of them. The second kind, some of them, are the Edward Seelster types who see them, stop in their tracks, and turn completely around to go in the other direction. Most of those also want off the track and back to the barn, where its safe.

Then there are the very few, the 3rd kind, who will not only not shy or turn around, but make a B line right to the wolves and attack them. Almahurst Loraine did that a few times when I jogged her. She was fearless and brave. As long as Edward was in the paddock with her, he was safe. She would kill anything that got near them. When I went to get Edward, I had to put feed on the other side of the paddock so she would be occupied and let me take him. Otherwise, she was the boss and I was not allowed in their space.

Since Edward was off for 3 weeks, other than to take care of his legs and bring them back to proper standing, I began to jog Loraine and also do more work with Eddie Lebec. Eddie Lebec was tricky. He had a hitchy gait, and I had to play around with his shoeing and equipment to manage it. That was using skills I really didn't have yet, so as I said earlier, at that stage it was trial and error. By the time I got him close to race speed, I had him right. All the pieces came together. He was never perfect, but he was viable and he did very well when I first started him at the track. He showed that determined desire to lead and not give up the lead, and that got him 3 wins in his first 6 starts. He turned out to be my best earner that summer. The guy that had him before me, my previous trainer, and also still a good friend, watched him race and couldn't believe he was the same horse. I had done a good job making him into something. I was proud of myself for that. Eventually, he was kind of lame, as he had suspect ankles that only got worse over time, but I kept him over for the next season. That was a mistake. I could have sold him for decent money and a good profit after the 3rd win, but I didn't. Live and learn.

Jogging Loraine was another matter entirely. Jogging would be a loose, but inaccurate way to describe what she did. Loraine didn't jog, not often anyway, and not willingly.

She was scary. There is no other way to say it. I felt I took my life into my hands every time I took her out to go onto the track. She was so strong, so determined to do it her way, to go as fast as she could as soon as she could, that I couldn't control her. As they say in the game, I was just a passenger when I sat behind her. It wasn't jogging, it was survival.

Being that I was by myself much of the time, the biggest danger was letting go of the crossties and having her bolt forward before I could get seated and have some measure of control of her on the pathway to the track. If I could do that, I could at least try and keep her slow. Even with that, she would pull so hard you could only go a lap or two and then either let her go full out, or take her back to the barn.

I tried to take her out mostly on the weekends, when I could get someone to lead her out and try to stop her from gaining a head of steam. Once she did that, it was game over. That worked for a while, but with Edward on the shelf, I ended up taking her out to "jog" every night. I feared and dreaded it every time. It like thinking you are driving your car, but you know the brakes likely will not work.

Next part to come shortly.

How was your night? Mine was pretty good, even though it wasn't.

Note, this blog was intended to be purely a message and lesson blog, but it turned mostly into a story blog when I got going doing that. That is how it goes sometimes. A short blog became long.

C'est la vie. That's just the way it goes sometimes, and no, I'm not going to post the Robbie Nevil song if you think I was leading to that. I'm cutting down on the music links in the blogs, in a mindful way.

A common convo heard in barns and households of trainers and horse players.

"have any luck last night?"

"No, no luck."

"Better luck next time."

Back when I was racing horses I raced a lot at places like Belleville and Sudbury. I hated Belleville, because the money was so bad, the conditions to work were so bad, and the horses and drivers were terrible, but for 2 or 3 drivers. I did like many of the people, as they had more fun than many I raced against. They were part timers and just doing it for fun, and weren't as focused and edgy as many racing people can be. It was 2.5 hours each way, and a long night.
Sudbury was okay. The money was great, my horses fit well there, and I had a decent relationship with 2 or 3 better drivers at that track. I made good money most times I went there. Not every time, but almost all the time. So, I decided to cut Belleville altogether and just go to Sudbury. The problem was I live in Toronto and Sudbury was 5 hours each way. I got to where I was going every Wednesday and Saturday, and it was wearing me down, taking a toll. I did all the jobs, groom, trainer, shipper, and any other job required in my barn. I was my barn. No help. I didn't really mind that, in fact I enjoyed it. I'm a hard worker, and even a tireless one to some extent. As long as its fun and there is a purpose to the activity.  

So, I decided to take 4 horses to Sudbury and stable there for a while, then see how it went. That meant being away from home most of the time, but I could leave the horses for a day or two---on Sunday and Monday, as long as they were racing steady, and just pay someone to take care of them on those days, and go back home. That was a hardship, but it was worth it if I could make a decent amount of money for a couple of months, and hopefully sell the ones that could not race closer to home for decent money. That was the plan. It should have been a good plan, but it was a very bad plan in actual practice.

I had one horse that should have done well at Sudbury, and that was Emersons Paradise. He was a solid 4 or 5 claimer there, and he could race as much as you wanted. He was sound, durable and good gaited. He was very low maintenance for any trainer as long as you knew what to give him health wise to keep his mind and body in top shape. I did know that and it was a very consistent program I had him on. I had 3 others and they earned their way at places like Sudbury, even won on occasion, but they weren't consistent about it like Emerson was. It didn't matter as long as he performed and one of the other 3 did well that week, and they took turns. That is how it should have played out. 

Right away when I got there I knew I was in trouble. I saw that some local guys had bought some horses out of town, and the competition was going to be much tougher than I normally met there. But I was there, and all in as they say, so I just took my chances.

I had 3 in the first night that I was there, and they all should have gotten money, thus I should have made my weekly paycheck I counted on. I got nothing. I had some bad luck with one, another was in too tough because the competition level was upped, the other was no good on her own, and that was a trend she continued until I retired her the next year. She had always done well at Sudbury, but that was when the entire field went 2 seconds slower. Now, they all went two seconds faster than she could go. 2 seconds is 10 lengths in racing. She wasn't going to make money anymore. There was no luck involved in that.

The next racing night, I had 2 in. One had a good post, but he only raced so so and I got a small check. The other got interference at the start, and made nothing. It was only one week, one bad week, but that happens in racing and in life. That was Saturday night. I did the work, put them away and came back home for Sunday and Monday. I already knew which ones I had in to go for the next Wednesday. They were trained up and prepared. Rest was all they needed for those two days.

I had decent posts with decent shots for the two I had in that Wednesday, but both simply were not good enough, and even good or bad luck was not going to matter. I got nothing again. Not only wasn't I making money, it was costing me money. A lot of money. A racing operation, even one where you do all the work yourself costs money. They all eat the same, the stalls cost the same, supplies cost, you have to pay help at times and they are depreciating assets from the time you buy them, which you did with your own capital. If they don't earn, steady, you lose. And they all need new shoes at the end of the month, race good or bad. Most blacksmiths like to be paid on the spot, and that is really the only way to keep them coming. I learned that early in the training game. Not to mention I still had to eat and live, and had a mortgage to pay back home.

I had two more in for the following Saturday, but again one wasn't good enough, the other had bad racing luck, and I got a small cheque between the two of them. I went home again. I decided that I would gradually ship them back, two at a time, and race one more time on the Wednesday since I was there, then ship out. It wasn't working. And it wasn't luck. It was a bad plan and the bad results flowed directly from that. Luck played a part but not a significant one.

I raced the last two on Wednesday, did okay but not good enough, and shipped the last two home. I decided to regroup and not race any of them for a week. I was back home, but Belleville wasn't really a good option, so I had to find a place where they could race and compete that wasn't like taking an entire day road trip. That was wearing me down and I didn't want to do that anymore.

​Ten days after I was back home, I had Emersons Paradise in at Flamboro. Flamboro was tough racing at times, so you had to be spotted right. I thought I was that day with him, but, I was tired and disorganized because of all the commotion of the Sudbury fiasco, and while I was back I began to go to the track every night looking for new horses to buy so I could upgrade my stable, which sorely needed that. That is another job I did, talent scout. I also did the books, and the books weren't looking good.

I grabbed my harness bag and went racing with Emerson. As I said above, he was easy. There were not many things you had to do with him on race night other than warm him up and put his equipment on. Normally, for any horse, every time, I checked my equipment over thoroughly before I left. This time, I did not do that. I paid the price that week for this, and it wasn't luck. It certainly wasn't bad luck.

I always warmed him up free legged, as he was just that good gaited and he didn't need hopples , except for the race. Everything was going well, and we were about 30 minutes to post. I had a good post position and he was very sharp, just as he was at Sudbury. Normally, Flamboro racing was much tougher than Sudbury and they raced for less money. At this point, Sudbury was tougher and Flamboro was the better fit for Emerson. All systems go, or so I thought. I went to put his race equipment on, and when I did, my hopples were not there. If you are not a racing person reading this blog, that is the equipment that keeps a horse like Emerson on the proper gait the entire race. Almost all harness horses who are pacers use them. So, I had effed up, and now I had to find a set to use for the race. Time was not on my side. I could buy them at the tack shop in the paddock but the lady who runs that was away for 10 minutes. That was 10 minutes I didn't have.

Back then, I knew almost everybody that raced at Flamboro, and they still stabled on the grounds. I asked a friend I saw in the paddock if he knew where I could get a set to borrow real fast. He told me of a guy. I asked that guy and he said go to Barn whatever he was in, and take a set out of his tack room. I did that. I had 10 minutes to the race by this point. I didn't check them over to make sure they were in good shape. They were not. When you are experienced, it only takes about 30 seconds to slap a pair on a horse that doesn't give you any trouble. Emerson was the best horse that way. He would let you do anything without any bother or fuss.

He paraded okay, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. As they approached the start, he was still okay. Then, as they hit the turn, the driver began to pull him up. I had no clue what that could be about. Emerson was sound and had no issues. When the driver got in front of me, I could see the hopple had snapped, because they were frayed in some sections. I would have caught that if I'd had the time to check them. I would have had no problem if I had checked my equipment at home. It was the only time I ever didn't, and only time in hundreds of races I raced where I had broken equipment in a race. Nevertheless, it was not luck. It was entirely my fault. I got no money, again. Sort of.

After the races, obviously I was not a happy camper. My wife came with me that day, which she rarely did when I raced. It was a Saturday afternoon and a nice day. I guess she just wanted to get out and enjoy herself. It didn't turn out to be so enjoyable, but it only got worse.

I was chatting with a guy I knew in the paddock and he asked me how I did? I said the horse broke a hopple. He asked me if he was going to be good anyway, and I said yes, he was going to win or be 2nd. He was a solid contender. Then he asked me if I could ship a horse he just bought that day back to his barn, which was "just down the road 10 minutes" and he would pay me 20 bucks. I said okay, as long as it wasn't too far. It was on my way home anyway, and it was more about the favor than the money. He loaded his horse up beside Emerson, and I followed his car to the barn he was stabled at, which I'd never heard of before. Well, 10 minutes became 30 minutes, and then became an hour. When we finally got there, he could see I was not very pleased, and he thought giving me 50 instead of 20 was going to cool that situation down. It didn't. I bit my tongue, took the 50 and decided I would be more careful about shipping a horse for a guy in the future unless I knew him better, and also that I would make sure I always checked my equipment before a race. I maintained that religiously until I stopped training, and had no equipment issues going forward.

Sunday came, and now my capital in the bank account had been severely drained. There was one week left in the month to fix that situation, or I would have to use the line of credit to pay the bills, something I never wanted to do.

I decided I would race 2 at Belleville the following Friday night, make some money, and then take Emerson to Kawartha the following night in a very soft non winners class that he now fit because of the Sudbury and Flamboro mistakes. You never know how these things will go, because there is always some luck involved.

The two in Belleville seemed logical to win, and since things went my way, they both did. That was a good Friday night to start the weekend. It wasn't great money, even for two firsts, but it was still first money and more than I had made the entire month up to that point.

At least some pressure was off for Saturday night. I had enough to pay the bills, although the overall month was still negative. Emerson was still at the top of his game, he had a decent post and the best driver at that track, who I didn't get to use much because he usually had a better one to take in any race I was in there. He also was a good guy who would listen when you told him things. I told him what Emerson was like, his little quirks in a race, and what he would do if you got him in the right position.

Emerson didn't like to be hit with the whip. You could wave it, you could show it to him, you could speak to him, but you couldn't hit him. He also did not like to be driven hard, unless he had the lead. He wasn't going to get the lead in this race, so he just needed to be floated up into position and then tipped when it was time, and he should just blow by the weak field that was in front of him. 

He drove him perfect and did exactly what I said, and he won easy, going away. As soon as he pulled off his cover on the turn, he slingshotted around the entire field and opened up, going away and coasted to the line a very easy winner.  That was a much bigger paycheck, and I was 3 for 3 on the weekend, and turned a good profit on the month because of it, in spite of the mistakes I made.

People say they would rather be lucky than good, and you hear that all the time when you race horses for a living. I have never subscribed to that theory. I would much rather be good than lucky. Being good will win for you consistently, while a run of good luck wont last.

I didn't do well that weekend because of luck. I didn't do poorly at Sudbury and then back at Flamboro because of luck. I made my own luck, my own bad luck. Only, it wasn't luck, it was just due. Some luck played a part in all the races, both at Sudbury and then Belleville and Kawartha that weekend, but no matter how lucky I might have been in those races, I won all 3 because I trained the horses right, entered them where they could win, and made sure they were driven to win. The direct opposite of what I did in Sudbury.

You know that saying,

"if it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all"

Well, as a bettor only now, I know you simply cannot rely on racing luck. You might even have good luck when you make so so or bad plays. 

My mantra is you can't rely on luck. It can be very streaky, and its no way to make a plan and hope for success. Anyway, it evens out and at the end of the day you are no farther ahead. While being really good at something means you will win more than your share, over time and consistently. Good luck might even out the bad periods where even being good doesn't help. But, bad luck plus bad betting or handicapping overall will ruin you when you hit those patches.

Now, what happened last night. I mentioned in an earlier blog this week I am cutting back on the amount of tracks I play. I have determined that is just Woodbine harness and Yonkers. Woodbine I don't usually play on Thursday nights unless I have extra time because its a favorite based card. I thoroughly handicappped Yonkers and when I was done I didn't have time to do up Woodbine. I took a quick look at it, and I could see the favorites looked hard to beat. That I got right and the first 5 races were all short priced favorites. So, I decided to just play Yonkers this night.
I know a bit about Yonkers, have followed it a bit here and there over the years, but I'm not up to speed on it like I am for Woodbine. So, there is still going to be some learning curve to learn the horses and all the participants. Handicapping is still handicapping wherever you go, but the more you know, the more you play, the better you should be, if you have the right skills.
My system is always to vet out the favorites first and see who I think I can beat, then find value in the balance of the field. My mistake ended up being I found value, but didn't stick to playing it.
In race 1 I tried to beat the favorite, who I thought was iffy, and I had two options. One option was a longer shot, and he needed the right trip. He didn't get it. That happens, and that is the luck part. The other option was a very legit contender and he led most of the way, only beaten in the stretch by the favorite. I got one of the two right, bet them both to place, and lost a small amount because the favorite killed the place price on the one I hit with. I played it well, and only lost because I didn't get the favorite part right. I'm okay with that. You wont get them all right when you go against favorites.
Race 2 is where I started to get into trouble. I didn't like the favorite, and it turned out I was right. She was sore and she began to fade on the last turn. But the ones I picked underneath all failed in their own way, while a 29-1 shot won, which would have helped my place price if I had played value, but I didn't. I took 3 of them, one was risky and he broke stride before the start, which was a risk I knew on him going in. The other two were poor finishers as a rule, and they finished 3rd and 4th, beaten late for 2nd by another horse who came up the middle and passed them both late. If I get either of those two horses, its a profitable race. But that would have been lucky. I would have needed good luck for that to happen, and not the bad luck that created the opening that allowed the 2nd place finisher to find room. If either of those horses I took were actually good value, they wouldn't have needed any luck to capitalize on a bad favorite. I should have just left the race. Those horses weren't good value plays, even if I did identify a bad favorite.
Race 3 I played well. I identified a suspect favorite, who is both a hanger and a poor leaver, and he fell right into a trip that would cost him. I had 3 solid value plays against him, and I played all 3. I made a small profit, because one lost 2nd on the line. The other one won the race. It was a good value play, not a great one.
Race 4 I played decently, but the race just didn't go my way, and all my choices either were hard used or hung late. Again, that can happen. I will accept that as part of the overall game.
Race 5 I played well, by not playing at all. I thought the favorite was fairly solid but not a cinch. I didn't like many behind her, and so I just passed the race. The favorite did bomb out, but my choices behind her were overbet and didn't race that great anyway. No value, no play.
Race 6 and 7 I thought the favorites were solid, and they both were, winning fairly easy. I just left those races alone.
Race 8 is the race that makes or breaks the night and its the impetus for starting this blog. I knew the favorite was a bad one, and that he would be raced very hard, likely setting it up for a longshot. I identified who I thought that would be, and I was getting a big price on that one, 43-1. I also liked the horse I thought should be favorite, and that one went off 9-5. I played the 43-1 shot, the race played out exactly as I thought, but I would have needed some good luck to win. The 43-1 shot came flying late, but didn't get room in time and passed the winner right after the line, getting beat less than a nose. The 9-5 shot won the race, by that nose. If I had good luck on this night, I win that race. But here is the lesson I take away.
Its better I didn't have good luck and win that race. Why? Because then I might have ignored the lesson that I didn't stick to the value principle earlier and if I don't do that all the luck in the world is not going to keep me profitable.
Good luck will come and go, as will bad luck. Playing smart and sticking to value is how you make money playing races, and racing horses for that matter. To some extent, its how you succeed in life.
And so, I will close with a line from a Dr. Hook song. It's something horse players learn to do. You just keep hangin in. Better love (luck) next time. 

Sometimes you lose but you're gonna win, if you just, if you just keep hangin in.

How was your night? Mine was pretty good, even though it wasn't. I lost money, but it was better to lose money on this night than to get lucky and make money.

I need to be reminded not to rely on luck in any way. Last night was a bad night, but a good night to remind me to stay on course. Not go running to tracks that aren't going to matter if I play bad, or bring poorly prepared horses to race at. That will never work long term.

How much is too much. How much is enough?

How much love, do you need
Before you give your love to me
How much time, before it grows
How much love I want to know

What can I do
What can I say
The last thing I want
Is to drive you away
How much love, does it take
How much love for heaven sake

 

In the 70s hit How Much Love  Leo Sayer asks.."how much you love do you need. how much love does it take?"

That song is about love, but the concept of how much/too much is a question many of us ask ourselves. I certainly ask myself that question, and for good reason. How much has always been an issue for me.

 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2Uk696jNGA

 

When I was younger it was baseball stats. I had a notebook, more a binder than notebook, and I would record the stats in a very detailed way into that book--of every Montreal Expos player. Current, and up to date, after every game. The Montreal Expos were the passion of my youth. I would also score every game, complete. I learned all those habits from my father. He did that as well at the games. It was part of the experience. I probably wanted to be just like him, as most sons want to be like their fathers until they grow up and end up being like them. Maybe its not that I wanted to be like him, more that I am like him and I am prone to repeat the habits because of simple DNA. Maybe its a bit of both at the same time. I'm pretty close to the stage where that is a reality. I've never not been that way.

When I was a teen I took up golf. That certainly had nothing to do with my father, as he never played golf. But, I practiced like I was on the PGA tour, read every book, watched every video I could, and played every course I could get to and afford. Its certainly something that is just inside me, whether it was learned or inherited.

I recall in University, one of my professors asked me what I did to complete my paper that I turned in. I asked why she wanted to know that. She said she had never had any student do the amount of research that I did for a simple undergrad paper. I remember spending hours in the library on that one, reading all sorts of studies, experiments and newspaper articles, just so I could have as much info as I possibly could. The footnotes at the end of my paper were probably longer than the actual paper was. That is who I am and certainly who I was. The prof probably thought I paid some professional to do it for me. I was freakish about how I had to do it right.

Again, how much is too much, and how much actually results in weaker end performance? When does doing more, or too much, result in poorer results than you would otherwise get?
Just because you can buy all the candy in the store, doesn't mean you should or that its in your best interest to do so. That is a tough lesson to learn. I love candy, literally, and in this case, figuratively.

More work and study is like candy to me, like sugar to a candy freak.

 

 

Knowing your limitations is important. Realizing your maximum potential is what many strive for. I certainly strive for it. Where is the happy medium between those two seemingly polar points?

I am one of those types that wants to do as much as I can, to do it all. That is a trait I inherited from my father, who was the workaholic of all workaholics. That's not to say my father didn't take time to do things he enjoyed, like going to baseball games, watching TV, or many other things. But, when it came to work, enough was never enough. I am certainly prone to that, but, unlike him, I am aware of it early in life and try to keep it in check. Try, but, its a battle.

When it comes to horse racing, I want to master every track, every type of bet. I like a challenge, and I like to solve all the puzzles. That is what drives me. It's also what can destroy me, if I let it. Lately, I have been letting it do that.

Back in the day, that wasn't an issue because it couldn't be.There was no internet access to every track, 24/7, there was no real offtrack betting, and when that started, you had 2 tracks to bet on. Not 100.

My first real experience with it was once when I went to Pittsburgh. I went to the local offtrack shop, and that night, you had 20 screens in front of you and the ability to bet 20 tracks at once. I dabbled in that, and I probably lost every bet. That lesson never registered though. More candy was a good idea at that point. 

 

 

more, more, more,
how do you like it, how do you like it.

 

Part of the problem is that when you start down that road, you are well on the journey and don't want to turn back, even though you are running out of gas. For some tracks, I have gathered so much data, put in so much time learning everything I can and need to know about that track and its players, that I would be tossing that aside if I gave up on it. Even if that is the best thing to do...to give up on those because they don't suit me, for various reasons. It's a bitter pill to take when you know you have to take it.

 

 

 First you need, then you bleed, and when you're on your knees
(That's what you get for falling in love
You get a little but it's never enough
That what you get for falling in love)
Now, this boy's addicted 'cause your kiss is the drug
your live is like bad medicine

bad medicine is what I need.

Now, its not a total loss. Each time I've put the work in, I've learned something I can use even if I don't play that specific track anymore. It has made me better and smarter overall. The education is valuable when I take that and apply it elsewhere.

So, the happy medium part. I will still work hard, but there is only so much work I'm willing to do. I like to play also, and the play part has suffered because of the work part. I am mindful of that, and have figured out where the balance is for me. It means tossing away much of the work I've done, and only going forward with what fits into my lifestyle. I want to solve the puzzles, but I realize I cannot solve every puzzle, if it means that is all I have time for. There is more to life than just solving puzzles.

When you can do a vast majority of things well--like I can, you don't need to limit yourself to just doing one thing very well and all the time. I fell into that trap, but I have found my way to pull myself out.

 

 

 I fell into a burning ring of fire,
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns,
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.

 

So, its down to 2 tracks for me, and just a few types of bets. I will live with missing scores I can make at other tracks and certain types of bets. Since I don't need the money that bad, I am giving up some money making for some time to do other things I get equal enjoyment out of.

If that goes well, and I can add a 3rd in the spring that I have always wanted to try and conquer, I will do that. But, that's it. 

 

One thing I knew early on, many years ago when I started playing the horses is that it can consume you if you let it do that. I forget that from time to time, and literally have to be exhausted before the hammer hits me on the head. That point has been reached. I also like writing. That is something else I do well and enjoy.
I have started writing more. Well, that's not true. I have been writing lots all along. I have hundreds of pretty good pieces that I just haven't finished. I love to write, but to do it well, you have to put a lot of energy into it. That also means finishing them. I just haven't finished many pieces, because by the end of the day, I was just too spent to do that. There is only so much you to go around, and the more you put into one thing, the less you have to put into others. Its a finite amount of time and energy you get to play with. That's a lesson my father didn't learn until very late in life, and something he expressed when we went out to dinner shortly before he passed away. Another older man I used to work with named Abe told me if I kept working the way I do, like I do, I would burn out. Abe told me that more than 20 years ago. My father told me what he did about 10 years ago. I didn't listen to either of them. That is my nature.

That is a valuable lesson for both horseplayers, as well as in in life. You have to decide how much goes to one thing, and how much to another. Or better said, how much less one gets if another is to get more. Horseplayers, as a general rule, are not good at taking advice of others. We always figure we are smarter and know better. I am the poster child in some ways for that.

 

 

 

Love is the drug and I need to score
Showing out, showing out,
hit and run Boy meets girl
where the beat goes on
Stitched up tight, can't shake free
Love is the drug, got a hook on me
catch that buzz
Love is the drug I'm thinking of

 

Knowing myself well, I know the temptation to stray and play more tracks will come again. It always does. Its like a very addictive drug to me. But I am very mindful of not falling back into that trap now. That is really half the battle when you are trying to beat this type of problem. Its only half though. Actually achieving it is the harder half. I'm halfway there now. I'm very mindful. This candy freak is now at least walking down the health food aisle. Not that I don't see the candy aisle in the distance. I know its there and it calls my name like the devil on my shoulder when the angel is silent.

How much is too much? How much is enough? Too much is too much when enough is enough. That's when.

 

 

If you've had enough
Don't put up with his stuff
Don't you do it
If you've had your fill
Get the check pay the bill
You can do it

Tell him to just get out
Nothing left to talk about
Pack his raincoat show him out
Just look him in the eyes and simply shout

Enough is enough is enough
I can't go on, I can't go on, no more no
Enough is enough, is enough
I want him out, I want him out that door now

In this case, the him is the person I don't want to be, the one I am also prone to be.

 

Note I used many love songs out of context in this blog to emphasize the metaphor of working too hard, just like loving too hard. Its what was out there to use, so I utilized it. Working hard is very much like loving too hard, it can hurt you more than help you if you let it.

And so, just one more, without the lyrics posted, just to hammer home the point.

 

Note the title on the page...Hell To Pay.

 

The next vice might be getting rid of using so many songs and lyrics in my blogs and posts to make a point. But that is a task for another day. One day at a time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The day I couldn't lose..literally

The year was 1987. It was a turbulent year, and the end of 2 or 3 very turbulent years in my world.

My parents, who had issues going for about 20 years, finally had split up a year or so before. It was an ugly day when it happened, and I was in the house when it all blew up. You never forget moments like that, but really, it was for the best. My parents were both great people in their own ways, but they were oil and water together much of the time.

Splitting up is never as easy as just walking away. Money was involved, and my dad had issues that tied us to him and his issues were in ways that weren't easy to remove from our lives. One of those was his penchant, almost vocation, to get in trouble with the law and then make it worse by doing more bad and stupid things. Before they split up, he had done such a thing and because his bail was so high, we had to put our house up as collateral to get him out.

When they split up, my father eventually went to California to live and run more of his scams. Scams was his business, and he was always in business. So, when it came time to come back for the trial for the previous scams, for which we had put our house up, he wasn't coming back. The crown and judge made it clear if he didn't, they would take the house. My mother was terrified. Something she was a lot and came to her easily. We were sitting on my bed in my room, and discussing what to do about it. I hatched a plan to get us out of it, and in the end, it worked. It took some creativity, and some fudging the truth on the stand by me, although I didn't lie, just left some things out, but at the end of the day, she kept her house, which eventually she sold to me, and I now live in.

The plan was pretty simple. It was August of 1987, and I had worked all summer since University had ended. I had saved up enough money for the coming school year, so I didn't need to work the rest of that month. My father had invited me to come visit him in Los Angeles, where he was living. To be more specific, Anaheim. I accepted. Somehow, my mother got involved and she came with. By then, my parents were getting along. They did get along well...as long as they were apart. We flew together to L.A., and the plan was to try and convince him to come back and face the music in Toronto, then my mother would be off the hook for the bail money. In addition, it would be a nice visit for 3 weeks. Staying at his house meant it cost nothing, and my father being my father, he paid for the plane fare. It would end up costing nothing, and again, my father being my father, I came home 3 weeks later with a lot more money than I left with. A lot is all I will say. It wasn't small bills, suffice it to say.

Right away I knew there was going to be trouble. My mother started talking about taking him back. I told her she was crazy and had a very short memory. Just remember the plan and the goal, have fun with your trips to Disneyland and the movie studios, and try to get him to come back and save your house. She wasn't easy to convince, and my father could be very persuasive. It didn't really matter, so I just let it go while we were there. I knew when the day came, I was getting her back on the plane and then that would be that, and she would come to her senses. Which she did. Three entire weeks with my father was plenty enough to convince her that he hadn't changed one bit and that he never was going to. He was the same crazy workaholic, over eater, excessive compulsive and con man he had always been. I make him sound bad there, but he really wasn't. He was a good, stand up guy who would give you the shirt off his back and take a bullet for you, but he had major personality flaws that he could never overcome. I took him for what he was, and saw him for what he was. He was always very good to me, as you will see in this blog.

For me, it was a chance to see places I never had before. I was going to take full advantage of that. The only thing I had to do was get up very early and drive him to work. In Los Angeles, even at 4am, that is a chore. Why? Because there was traffic everywhere, all the time. L.A. traffic is not a Hollywood made up story. Its very real. But if I wanted the car all day, its what I had to do.

He had to get up that early because of the 3 hour time difference. He said he needed to be at work at 5am because that was 8am eastern time. For whatever scam he was running, that was necessary.

Luckily for us, he was able to use the 2 or more lane to drive to work. That saved time. I asked him how he was able to do that by himself when we weren't around. He said he put the dog in the backseat and when he got stopped, he pointed out to the police that it said 2 or more, not 2 or more people. As I understand it, because of his bullshit argument, he forced them to change all the signs. That was my father. He also had a stack of tickets because of it, and of course, he never paid any of those.

Every day, I would ride with him to work and then take the car for as long as I wanted, then pick him up at 5pm. That meant I could go wherever I pleased. Most days, that meant going to play golf. That is what I did most in those days, and the weather was great in L.A. Starting out as early as I did, meant I could get out before the crowds and play the entire round, finish before noon, then get some lunch, and head to the beach until he was ready to go home. One of those days I went to Redondo Beach, and it was a great place to be. Some years later, the entire area burned to the ground, so at least I got to see it first.

When we got back home, each night I would do something different. One night, I went to Dodger Stadium to see a baseball game. In my entire life, I have never seen a baseball palace like that. It was heaven. The tickets were very expensive, but it didn't matter. My father said he would get me one, and he would pay whatever it cost. On top of that, out the door, he would give me an extra 50 bucks in case I needed anything. That was a trend that continued the entire trip. Fifty bucks a day times 21 days ended up being 1000, and there was an extra envelope to go with it for the plane ride. It was more than I made the entire summer before I came. He also paid for all the golf course fees, and any food I wanted. Another night, I went to Anaheim Stadium, which was just down the street from his house, and he paid for all that as well. We also went to San Diego and Tijuana for the day, and to San Francisco for 2 nights. I wanted to play Pebble Beach, because that was a dream of mine, but on the day we went, it was raining, so I didn't. We drove around the entire course though, so at least there was that. If I had played, it would have been 250 to play it. That was a lot of money to me, being only 22 and a student, but my father said if that is what you want, play and I will pay it. For all my fathers faults, that is just who he was. He would give you anything if he thought it made you happy.

Other than the golf, the beach, the baseball games and the short trips, I had one bigger plan in mind for myself. I had a day trip of my own in the works. Towards the end of the trip, on a Saturday when my father didn't need the car, I was going to drive to San Diego to watch the T breds run at Del Mar, then come back at night and go to Los Alamitos for the standardbreds. It was a day road trip for horse betting, something some players like to do. I was one of those in those days. When that day arrived, it was a bright, perfectly sunny California day. Many of the days while we were there were very overcast and rainy. People who have never been to LA don't realize that is more the reality of the weather there, but you do get the sunnier days too, after the early morning smog lifted. In those days, the smog was horrendous. On this day, there was neither.

I drove out to San Diego to go to Del Mar. I got there early, so I was able to walk around and take the place in. It was massive and a palace, much like Dodger Stadium had been. You never forget those things when you see them. In those days, there were no camera phones, so the video is just something that lives in my head. Before I left, since it was a longer day, my father wanted to make sure I had enough money to get me by the entire day, even though I had about 1000 saved from all the other allowances to that point, so he gave me 150 this time. In those days, I never bet more than 5 a race, and I didn't that day either, even though I could have. I didn't feel comfortable doing that at that point.

I bought the Daily Racing Form, but really, I didn't know much about the T breds, so, I expected to lose. Big fields of horses I didn't know, jockeys I didn't know, and a style of racing I had no real clue about. For whatever reason, on this day, that was not going to matter. For you see, on this day, I literally could not lose. We all have a day like that, and this was my day.

I stayed at Del Mar for about 6 races. I bet 4 of them. I hit them all, and not just favorites. I think I was up another 50 before I left. When you are a bettor, you think in terms of betting money and the rest of your money. So, while I had 1000 back in the room at my fathers house, and 150 from him for this day, in my mind, I now had 50 to play with at night for the Los Al card. That is the way you think when you play horses.

Off I went, on the 2 hour plus journey back to LA to Los AL. I was hungry, so I stopped for some dinner along the way, and because of that, I was late and missed the first 3 races. I think there were 10. For some reason that night, and that night only, they had a fair there in addition to the regular harness races. The fair included quarter horse racing. I knew zero about that style of racing, and to this day, I am still in that boat. All I know is that they line them up in the gate, it opens, and they run like hell for 8 to 10 seconds in a straight line and then its over. I caught the last quarter horse race just as I walked in. I bet 5 on something, and it won. Just barely, right on the line as another passed it. I just couldn't lose on this day, no matter how foolishly I played.

Then the harness races started. I had been going to the races for about 4 or 5 years by then, and I knew what I was doing. But, at this track, I knew none of the horses, the drivers, or really how they raced. But I didn't care. I was playing with free money and it was more about the experience anyway. On this night, they had the Sire Stakes also, and many of the races were those. There were many heavy cinch favorites, so I didn't have to be that smart to pick winners, if that is what I wanted to do. I did.

The first 3 were heavy chalks, they all looked good to me, I played them, and they all won. I still could not lose. The next one I didn't like as much, and a 5-1 shot looked good to me. I played him. He came out of the clouds late and picked off the favorite right on the line, which was maybe a 3 minute photo to wait on. This was crazy. I had now hit 9 in a row. 9 in a row. I've been at this now 35 years, I don't think I've ever hit 4 in a row, before or since. There were just 3 or 4 races left. I was up at least 200 on the day by now. That was a lot of money, even though I was already going home with way more than that if I had lost the entire 150 I started with on this day.

I decided to bet exactors this time. Not boxes though, just straight exactors. Something I never do, to this day. But, this day was different. I had the confidence that I was going to win. No matter what. I played two 2-1 shots in the next race, and they hit the line together, and my top horse clearly was ahead. But, there was an inquiry, on the winner. It seemed to flash forever, but when the inquiry came down, my horse stayed up. 10 in a row. Yes, 10 in a row.

By this time, it had been a very long day, and I was getting tired and a bit sleepy. But the rush of all the wins kept me going. I was going to play one more race, win or lose, and then drive home. These were the best horses they had in California at that time, the Open horses. There were only 6, but it was a very evenly matched field. All 6 looked to have a shot. I watched them parade, and I picked a 5-1 shot to win over a 6-1 for 2nd. Straight. It was paying about 100 bucks if I cashed it. I had to lose though, nobody keeps a run like this going forever. The race was contentious start to finish, and all 6 were in it as they turned for home. My 5-1 shot was hopelessly boxed and blocked from going forward. My 6-1 shot was on the outside, but he was hanging. I was pretty certain I was going to lose this one. Then, the red sea parted, the 5-1 shot shot through in an instant and got up right on the line, with 4 others noses apart beside him for 2nd. My 6-1 shot looked to be 3rd, so I was still going to lose. They put the numbers up that way. I thought the run was over. Then, they announced there was a drivers objection. The horse that finished last against the 2nd place horse. That one also took a long time too, but..he came down, my horse moved up to 2nd, and....a perfect day was complete.

I walked out with about 300 plus my 150, less dinner and gas, which my dad insisted on giving me money for when he found out I spent 30 extra on gas and food.

You would think all of those things would be the most vivid memories I have of that day, but it is not. The one thing I remember most is that there were some people standing beside me at Los Al, and they had noticed I won every bet. They looked at me by the end of the night like I was some 3 headed freak. It seemed I was that day.

Home I went.

Two days later, on Monday, we flew back to Toronto. My father gave me the extra envelope just before we took our luggage out of the trunk. He told me not to open it until I got home. I didn't. Lets just say it was enough money to buy a car if I wanted to.

On the plane, my mother told me that my father had assured her he would come back and go to court. I knew it as a lie, she knew it was a lie, even though she wanted to believe it. It was a lie, but that was okay. It was enough.

We went to court a few months later. They called him. He wasn't there. So, he was convicted, and now a felon on the run. When lunch break was over, we had to go on the stand and tell them why they shouldn't seize our house. My mother was very nervous, as she was prone to be anyway. I told her to just tell the truth. She did. The crown asked her what she did. She told them we went to California to convince him to come back, he said he would, and that she did all she could do. She said he was not living in hiding, she knew where to find him if they wanted him, and she couldn't have done anymore.

Then it was my turn. I wasn't so honest, but I did what I had to do to save my mothers house, which is all she had left at that stage. The crown asked me what I knew. I said I heard my father tell my mother that he was going to come back. That wasn't entirely true. I didn't hear him say that, but my mother told me he did then told me. I told them I was certain he would come back, but of course I knew in my heart and mind he wasn't going to. The judge said we had done enough, and he let us off the hook.

I have a theory of why they did that.

As it turns out, they didn't want him back. They were happy to let him be California's problem. It cost more to prosecute and deal with him than just let him be. In any case, they weren't even trying to extradite him and he was easily findable, and he wasn't trying to cross. They were just happy for it to be over. I told my mother she should take that as a sign and be happy herself to be done with it, and let it be. She did in the end.

On that trip, and in court, I just couldn't lose. It just went my way, for whatever reason.

My mother hated when I played the races...but she loved it when I won. She was like that. When I told her how much I won that day in California, she was so happy. Everyone likes a winner and when you are that winner, you feel like you can never lose. That is perceived by others, but all of us know that the winning wont last. It didn't. The next time at the track back home, I couldn't pick a winner to save my life, and I went on a run where I lost my next 60 or 70 bets. Karma evened up the score, as it always will. But it can't take away my stories or memories of that month in August, where I could not lose.