6 June 2012
Ma was on me before the first pot of coffee was made on Monday morning. "Who win Belmont Beer? Favourite or maybe big money horse?"
I'll Have Another's pre-race line is 3/5. He may well go to post at odds less appealing than that.
"Why are you asking me?" I said irritably as I impatiently awaited my morning beer shit inducing hot black speed. "I figured the motherfucking Devils to beat the fucking Kings in seven for fuck's sake."
"That hockey. Maybe you still right. What you know about hockey except Canucks suck like Maple Leaf? Triple Crown or not? Who win Saturday?"
The Belmont, when the Triple Crown is on the line, is a race that appeals to both the most conservative chalk player and the wildest of wild-eyed Anarchist long shot players.
"I'm still working on it Ma. I will tell you what I do know though. The Belmont course is best suited for big horses and the favourite is smallish. The sort of horse you would think would make most of its money some place like Dope City's bull ring. I want the big horse in this race. I want to see if, should the favourite lose, the local horse race fans will riot like the our city's hockey fans always do when the money is on the line."
"Don't bullshit me Beer. Who do you like Belmont?"
"I'll tell you Thursday if I can figure out which horse is the big horse."