Golden Edge by Ed Golden |
Resolutions I’ll live with for the New Year:
Playing the Pick 3, pound for pound, racing’s most profitable bet.
Not backing trainers with a winning percentage of four.
Hitting the mute button or changing channels when Chris (Ethel Merman) Berman or Dick Vitale rant and rave on TV.
Extending my streak of never watching "Dr. Phil," "David Letterman," "Family Guy," "Oprah," "South Park," "The Daily Show" or "The View."
Hoping for another "Terminator" movie, with Arnold Schwarzenegger donating his salary to alleviate the budgets woes of California.
Never missing "Jeopardy" or "Seinfeld" reruns.
No more $80.60 Pick 6 payoffs, like Hollywood Park had on Dec. 11, when the winners paid $2.60, $6.40, $5.40, $3.20, $5.20 and $3.40, and Joel Rosario won six of the day’s eight races, including five in the Pick 6. Five out of six paid $5.80. The good news was Rosario tied Hollywood’s record for most wins in one day, shared by Bill Shoemaker (1953 and 1970), Laffit Pincay Jr. (1968) and Kent Desormeaux (1992). The bad news: only 1,883 were on hand to see it.
Marveling at the accuracy and memory of track announcers.
Never taking a tip from a jockey.
Not making show bets.
Passing on any horse less than even money, unless it’s in an exotic.
Remembering the good old days, of Dr. Fager, Buckpasser and Kelso.
Always repaying a debt, financial or otherwise.
Remembering the good old days, of Arcaro, Hartack and The Shoe.
Recognizing that truth, loyalty and family come first.
Reflecting often on Zenyatta’s victory for the ages in the Breeders’ Cup Classic.
Laughing out loud reading "Naughty and Nice" in the Dec. 28 Sports Illustrated, which included these: "Jesse Rogers, Cubs radio broadcaster, while interviewing Chicago reliever Antonio Alfonseca, who has six fingers on each hand: ‘Were you born that way?’ and "Michael Vick, (then) Falcons quarterback, on the secret of his success: ‘I have two weapons–my legs, my arm and my brains.’"
Cringing every time I see Dennis Rodman’s pierced papilae. It hurts just to look at him.
Never being afraid to say your sorry, but only when you’re wrong.
Breathing easier for the safety of horse and jockey before and after every race.
Constant puzzlement over political correctness run amok at an undetermined cost to taxpayers. Painted words on streets in my neighborhood were changed from speed "bumps" to speed "humps."
Not wanting to gag every time I hear a so-called football analyst say, "Nice job" or "I’ll tell you what," or a sideline sweetie utter, "You guys."
Accepting the fact that a trainer will never say a horse lost because it wasn’t good enough.
I don’t hold my breath waiting for the first Israeli suicide bomber.
Marveling at how actors remember their lines and how singers remember their lyrics.
Always checking my mutuel ticket before I leave the window.
Not throwing tickets away until the race is official.
Never tweeting or twittering, unless I’m trying to communicate with a bird.
Realizing Obama was speaking tongue in cheek at best when he campaigned on "transparency." And if his health reform is so great, why isn’t he in it?
Wondering why someone pays $500,000 for a horse and ends up running it for $32,000.
Not understanding why jockeys ride at Aqueduct in the dead of winter when tracks in Florida and California are running.
Walking in any public place without hearing some punk drop an F-bomb.
Retelling a joke my father told that epitomizes a gambler’s mentality: Two friends at the track an hour before the first race. One turns to the other and asks to borrow $20. "You can’t be broke already," the guy says. "It’s an hour before the first race." "I know," the friend replies. "I’ve got money to bet. I need money to eat."
Another gag my dad told was about the Jewish couple making love. "Did I hurt you?" the husband asks. "No, why?" she says. "You moved.
Saying prayers, for racing, my family and my country.
Question? Comment? E-mail me at: Ed Golden