Could not hit the broadside of NHL commissioner Gary Bettman's ego on Breeder's Cup Friday. I should have known better. Have yet to do well on the Friday races since the Breeder's Cup split their marquee race day into two days a few years ago. Have not even made a Friday bet for the past couple years. The form of four horses convinced me they were worth betting on this year. Not one of them made the board.
Saturday was a little different. Bet on half of the dozen races Santa Anita carded. First horse I bet on was named George Vancouver. 2 year old race. Left the gate at odds a little higher than 9-1, showed tactical speed and finished smartly thereby putting me in the clear for my weekend's worth of gambling with five more races to go. I never bet names but it was cute to see a horse so named win. You may just see him contesting next year's Kentucky Derby.
Next race I bet the only horse to go to post as an odds on favourite on the day. Won as expected. A small profit now graced my account.
Skipped several of the next races as I awaited Trinniberg's win in the sprint. 13-1 are nice odds to have your money invested at if you are not just stabbing at a big number. Trinniberg ran the six furlongs better than he ran the first six furlongs of this year's Kentucky Derby. I was in Paradise, the place all gamblers visit after a proper score.
The rest of the horses I backed did not run real well so it was three of ten for the weekend. I would have preferred four - always shooting for a 40% winning percentage is what betting the horses comes down to. I also shoot for a 30% profit. My profit for Breeders Cup weekend? 176%.
Of course that was before I took Sonja and I out for dinner. If we did not have to eat, drink and put gas in the fucking car we would be rich. Some people call it the rat race. I call it a motherfucking hamster wheel. Whatever the fuck it is, I am going to keep on running until I burn.
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