out of my WAY, man!

5.20.06 Saturday Afternoon; a few hours before the Preakness

Last year’s wild, Preakness Stakes homestretch dual, between Scrappy T & Afleet Alex, was like Bart Simpson, pitted against Harry Potter; Ozzie vs. Paul Simon; wastoid vs. prom king.

I hugely admire Afleet Alex — bet him to Win the ‘05 Preakness, in fact — but Scrappy T is my long-shot gangsta homeboy. I bet him to place & show — and he came through in fine style, like always.

My favorite racehorse got a lot of bad press for the heal-clip incident, pictured above, in which the lives of Afleet Alex & his jockey were narrowly — some say miraculously — spared. I for one was proud of the ol’ Scrapster!

Scrappy T, by my estimate, played pro hockey in a past life. So when a rival horse challenged, and tried to win, Scrappy T did what came natural: he hip-checked ‘em.

Turns out, I was mistaken. Scrappy T isn’t a reincarnated hockey player. How do I know?

I asked him. And he kindly filled me in on what really happened.

Scrappy T lost his sunglasses, on the Far Turn. Plus, he had a gargantuan tequila hang-over, that day — and the bright sun momentarily shocked him.

‘For a good half-furlong or so,’ he chuckled, ‘I couldn’t see a fucking thing.’

My Hero! May his odds stay long & thus his payoffs sweet.

the Get Rich Quick Trick of the Week

Call it my Get Rich Quick Trick of the week. Call it worthless, if it turns out to be. I don’t give a hoot. I am having Fun today and Fun never loses.

Barbaro will lose today. My bet, at least, is smartly against him — on general sporting principals. Because if Barbaro loses, the winning bet will pay cosmically. My job now is to skillfully choose who, among his fellow contenders, will get the wildest kick out of beating him.

Even if Barbaro wins, I’ll pat myself on the back. For doing the right & noble thing.

Because I will not be a spineless hosehead who bets on the below-even money Favorite, and loses. Life is to short to waste even the dollar it costs to box Barbaro in an Exacta. I’m not just being obstinate. Or a money-grub fool. I’m going along with my good instinct feel for things.

Barbaro — despite his commanding, and visually compelling, Derby win — just plumb don’t excite me. Never has. And — though the world of racehorses doesn’t revolve around Me — I in many ways revolve around it; so I can’t help but hope that a genuine Triple Crown prospect would make my heart leap, at least once, between the Derby & Preakness Stakes.

Instead, Barbaro is just precisely my favorite kind of horse to beat; the stuff of easy money daydreams.

By all means don’t let me dissuade you from betting lavishly on him. Go fucking bananas, please. I am a degenerate gambler, dirt poor but proud; an out-of-work freelance daredevil; and a wide-eyed student of wizardry. None of these fine skills has netted me a job offer lately. Which isn’t your problem, totally. It only means that the more money Barbaro’s enthusiasts lose on him today — if I Win — the more happily unemployed I’ll be.

Thank You: for contributing to the delinquency of a Mike E!