Get-The-Money
With The Works 

Ah… the Workout Report — the elusive oracle for the handicapping faithful, the silent whisper before the storm. I must say, it does...

Ah… Belmont week . The final jewel. The last stand. A time not just for handicapping, but for introspection—like tax season for the soul....

Ah… the Valet Parking Attendant . The unsung sentry of the racing experience. Before the bugle sounds, before the programs are unfolded,...

Ah, the summer sun casts its golden hue upon the verdant pastures of Saratoga, and with it, the annual pilgrimage of equine athletes and...

That bastion of beautiful derangement , the last refuge for the untamed and the unforgettable, its in the Clubhouse. It’s less a section...

Ah... the Clocker. The name itself is whispered at racetracks with the reverence of a deity and the suspicion of a snitch. “They say the...

Ah, yes... the Off-Track Betting parlor— the great coliseum of the common man. Where dignity went to die, hope clung to a $2 ticket, and...

Ahhh… yes. The melodrama of modern racing discourse. A digital Colosseum where gladiators of the saddle are dissected not by horsemen or...

Ah… Hans Gruber . A name forever etched into cinematic infamy. The mastermind behind the Nakatomi Plaza attack— Christmas, 1988 . A man...

Ah... be prepared . Or, as I was taught by men who lived hard and died harder— do the work . That quaint little phrase that once defined...

Ah, yes... the Derby-Preakness double. Such a storied pairing—glorious, brutal, unrelenting in its historical significance. And yet,...

Ah, yes… the incessant march of modernity, the slow bleed of tradition, the surgical sanitization of what was once a blood-and-dust...