The Whip

Roller derby is like DMT. During a bout and for a few days afterward I feel like Paul McCartney sounds when he sings that song about getting high with everybody. About three days after a roller derby bout the high wears off and all I have is my beer to keep me going. Without the beer I would be like Bo without the Diddley.

Luckily there is always the racetrack. Today I was leaning on the rail waiting for the last race to pound past me. I was $40 down, having only cashed a win ticket on the 4th race. I expected the ten horse to leave the gate quickly and establish herself position near the lead. She left the gate a little slow and established herself near the back of the nine horse field. I followed the horse and her female jockey around the track in my binoculars. The jockey's name was Stephanie. I watched her ass as it followed the horse around the track. I have thing for female jockeys. I think it is the whip.

I wiped the drool from my chin and figured I was going to go home down sixty. Then Stephanie urged her ride along the backstretch, then into the lead as she rode the horse wide around the final turn and into the homestretch where she won with ease. The ten was 17-1.

Thank you Stephanie, for everything.