Conditions

Every day horseplayers complain about losing.

They complain about the CRWs ruining the game. They complain about the takeout. They complain about the odds. They complain about the people betting more money than they can. They walk away.

And then they come right back tomorrow.

Rinse. Repeat.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Well, that's the horseplayer in a nutshell.

They want to do the same thing. They follow the same losers on social media. They consume the same information everyone else is consuming. They look at the same speed figures, the same workout reports, the same sheet numbers, the same Beyers, the same whatever-the-hell-number-of-the-day is being pushed around the internet.

Then they wonder why everybody is betting the same horse.

It's almost as if the parimutuel game has become one giant pajama party where everybody shows up wearing the same pajamas.

And then they complain about the CRWs.

My social-media post was simple. The arguments that followed it weren't really arguments about what I posted. They were excuses.

Plain and simple.

Because the race conditions are every bit as important as the speed figures, workout reports and sheet numbers.

In fact, sometimes they are more important.

Let's take a Non-Winners of Two Lifetime claiming race.

My wager is that a significant percentage of players don't even know what they're looking at when they see NW2L in the conditions.

That's a problem.

Because this isn't just another race. It's a restricted race designed to level the playing field.

A horse wins one race. Then it wins another. Now it has exhausted the condition. What happens next?

It has to move forward.

Maybe open company. Maybe an N3L. Maybe something tougher.

That's the logical progression.

But handicappers get hypnotized by numbers.

Speed figure?

Check.

Workout?

Check.

Sheet number?

Check.

Last-race visual?

Check.

Race conditions?

Uh...

What were those again?

That's how you get handicappers treating NW2L horses as if they're seasoned stakes horses when, in many cases, they're nothing more than glorified maiden winners facing other glorified maiden winners.

Unless the conditions tell you otherwise, that's how I view them.

And I tend to look at these NW2L horses like bastards.

Their last name is Snow.

Until they prove otherwise, that's what they are.

You can laugh.

That's fine.

But understand the point.

Conditions tell you what a horse has actually accomplished.

And that brings me to Sea Strike and the Travers.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear before somebody starts throwing tomatoes.

Sea Strike is a talented horse.

He's flashy. He's impressive. He's got ability.

That's not the argument.

I'm talking about handicapping in its rawest, most basic form.

Class matters.

If a horse is stepping from a NW2L condition into open claimers, that matters.

If a horse is stepping from a restricted stakes race into a Grade 1, that matters.

And if the restricted race specifically limited the field based upon what those horses had not accomplished, you damn well better pay attention to it.

I don't give a flying hoot how impressive the horse looked winning that restricted event.

I don't care how beautifully he worked afterward.

I don't care how shiny the horse looked in the paddock.

I don't care how many people on television fell in love with him.

The question was simple:

Was he ready for Grade 1 class?

Sea Strike had won the Curlin.

And over the years, the Curlin has become a race where everybody starts beating the drums about the winner going into the Travers.

And then what happens?

They fall flat on their face.

Why?

Class matters.

Sea Strike had won impressively. He looked the part. He had the speed. He had the workout pattern. He had the visual appeal.

He had everything handicappers love to see.

Except the thing they apparently forgot to look at.

Class.

Look at the horse's progression.

First start: maiden winner sprinting.

Second start: he gets drubbed against winners.

Third start: restricted stakes company.

And who was in there?

Chief Wallabee.

A horse who had been running in the major three-year-old races.

Sounds good, right?

Well, look closer.

Chief Wallabee was still eligible for that NW2L condition.

That's the point.

He had exited the Florida Derby, a Grade 1 race, but by then it had been nearly six months. And during that entire stretch, nobody coming out of that Florida Derby field had come back to win a race. The Florida Derby widely proclaimed as the best Derby prep. Well.....NO!

That's information.

You don't throw it away because the horse has a pretty speed figure.

Sea Strike looked impressive.

He won impressively.

And immediately the drums started beating.

People wanted to paint the canoe before they even got to post time.

Speed figure?

Check.

Workout?

Check.

Visual impression?

Check.

Class?

Well...

Uh...

Maybe?

Forgetaboutit.

That's New York for you.

And then they had to actually run the race.

Sea Strike showed his speed.

He got the perfect trip.

And then the Curlin made him look looking flatter than pancakes at IHOP.

Handicappers were standing around scratching their heads.

How can a horse with that kind of workout, that kind of performance in the Curlin, and that kind of speed figure come up this empty?

I'll tell you how.

Class.

Class matters.

The other argument I heard was about Leading Change.

"Well, Leading Change only had two starts."

Like that was some kind of gotcha.

It wasn't.

Leading Change had already demonstrated class.

He had won the Indiana Derby, a graded stakes race, against multiple winners.

He had been tested.

He had already stepped into a different level of competition and answered the question.

Leading Change had class.

Sea Strike had potential.

There is a difference.

And that's what handicappers forget.

Sea Strike may very well become a better horse in graded stakes company. He is talented enough to do it. With seasoning, he may develop into a very good racehorse.

But potential isn't accomplishment.

You can't handicap what you hope the horse becomes.

You handicap what the horse has shown you.

That's the lesson.

You learn conditions.

You read conditions.

You understand what the race actually is.

You understand who is in it.

You understand where these horses have been and, more importantly, where they are being asked to go.

Horseplayers spend an enormous amount of time worrying about CRWs.

But they rarely worry about their fellow handicapper.

That's the irony.

This is a parimutuel game.

Your opponent isn't the racing secretary.

Your opponent isn't the trainer.

Your opponent isn't the CRW.

Your opponent is the person sitting three seats away from you who has the exact same information you have.

And what do handicappers do?

They share it.

They pass around workout reports.

They pass around numbers.

They repost figures.

They follow the same handicappers.

They listen to the same podcasts.

They watch the same television shows.

They consume the same information and then somehow convince themselves they're going to arrive at a completely different conclusion.

Why?

Because horseplayers are egotistical creatures.

They believe they're smarter than everybody else.

They believe they see something nobody else sees.

They believe their you-know-what doesn't stink.

Yet they're using the exact same information everybody else is using.

Then they're shocked when everybody is betting the same horse.

They're a piece of work.

Almost delusional.

One of my good friends has known me for 35 years. He swore I was wrong about Sea Strike.

"He's a monster," he told me.

I haven't heard from him since the Travers.

And I'm not going to tell him I told him so.

That's not the point.

The point is that handicapping isn't about being right on Twitter.

It isn't about winning an argument.

It isn't about making a horse sound good.

It's about understanding what you're betting.

There were television handicapping evangelists loving Sea Strike.

The drums were beating.

The horseplayers followed.

And then reality showed up.

That's racing.

And this is another thing that drives me crazy.

Horseplayers love to talk about their scores.

They post the tickets.

They flex.

They go on podcasts and tell everybody about the big score they had, wearing that winning ticket like a ribbon of medals across their chest.

Then you find out the truth.

"$45,000 score!"

Sounds great.

Until you discover it was a $3,800 ticket.

Not $38.

Not $125.

Not $380.

$3,800.

That's not handicapping wizardry.

That's a mortgage payment masquerading as handicapping genius.

If your great score requires a $3,800 ticket, then don't stand there pretending you've discovered the Holy Grail of horse racing.

Most horseplayers don't have the bankroll to fire $3,800 at a race.

So bragging about that kind of score without explaining the price of admission is grandstanding.

The real question isn't whether you can hit something when you throw enough money at it.

The real question is whether you can make intelligent decisions with the bankroll you actually have.

That's handicapping.

So which one are you?

Are you a follower?

Or are you a leader?

Do you march to your own drum?

Do you actually develop your own process?

Or do you get excited when somebody sends you free data, free workout reports and free numbers without once batting an eyelash about how many other people have the exact same information?

You love to bet.

I know you do.

You love the excitement.

You love the action.

You love standing there when the gates open and thinking you know something the other guy doesn't.

So why not do it right?

Read the conditions.

Understand the conditions.

Understand what the race is designed to do.

Understand what the horses have accomplished.

Understand where they have been.

Understand where they're going.

Don't confuse flash with class.

Don't confuse potential with accomplishment.

Don't let a speed figure erase the conditions.

Don't let a workout report hypnotize you.

And don't let everybody else's opinion become your handicapping process.

Because at the end of the day, the horse doesn't know what the number says.

The horse doesn't know what the television handicapper said.

The horse doesn't know what your buddy posted on X.

The horse doesn't know how many people downloaded the workout report.

The horse only knows the race he's being asked to run.

And the race tells you what you need to know.

Class matters.

It always has.

And until horseplayers remember that, they'll keep doing the same thing every day, losing the same way, complaining about the same things, and coming right back tomorrow expecting a different result.

Speaking of results: Arm yourself with info that can help you win and enjoy the game the way its supposed to be. I got this letter this morning:

Congrats to Chris

Excellent call by 'Laz on the 6th at Del Mar.

I been told by a number of people "I can find something good everyday at Racingwithbruno"

Find yourself something good every day and with a discount. Last Call!