Sirius-ly really!
- Bruno@Racingwithbruno
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
Well hell, here we are, y’all — deep in the dog days of summer, slinkin’ into August like a hungover basset hound lookin’ for shade and a garden hose. And while we're at it, who the hell named these “dog days,” anyway? Was it based on real dogs, like a noble Husky trudgin’ through the heat like it’s the Iditarod and his sled? Or them little yappy things that shake like they owe money and melt when the temperature hits 82?
Now, I used to think “dog days” just meant layin’ around, drinkin’ too much water and shedding clothing down to bare nothing to stay cool—kinda like good ole boy Darryl after a crawfish boil—but come to find out, it’s actually got somethin’ to do with Sirius, the Dog Star. Yeah, space dogs. Ancient Rome decided that when Sirius rose with the sun, it got hot enough to melt your sandals and cook your goat. Sirius is the brighest Star in the night sky and part of the constellation of the Canis Major (the Greater Dog), and y'all thought I B S'ed you, yup, "It's actually a binary star system, consisting of a bright star, Sirius A, and a fainter white dwarf companion, Sirius B. The star has been significant in various cultures throughout history, including ancient Egypt where it was associated with the flooding of the Nile." Damn Pop Quiz after the blog.
But if you think the dog days are just about layin’ low and lickin’ your wounds, you ain’t been payin' attention to Del Mar, my friend. That seaside track down in Southern California is runnin' hotter than a church picnic with an open bar. The horse inventory’s up, the cards are bangin’, and unlike the Spa up in Saratoga—where the weather’s been moodier than your ex after sushi and three sakis—Del Mar’s givin’ you a real shot at prices. And I ain’t talkin’ about 8/5 parade ponies either. I’m talkin’ real-deal prices you can sink your teeth into.
Now, Saratoga's over there actin’ like it's still prom queen, but the foundation’s crackin’ with the same of cast Chuck E Cheese characters, using the Spa for their own personal ATM.
Meanwhile, Del Mar’s hittin' the gym, goin' to therapy, and showin’ up with 40 gate works in a single morning. Forty! on multiple occassions, That’s not a workout report, that’s a declaration of war on low-effort handicapping.
See, that’s the thing folks don’t get: maidens are the heartbeat of this game. They’re the freshmen class, the kids who haven’t been crushed by the weight of expectations yet. A good gate work from a maiden? That’s your sneak preview of tomorrow’s stakes horse. And gate works ain’t no jog in the park — it can up to 5 or 6 furlongs from a dead still, like havin’ to run a 5K after gettin’ pushed out of a moving car. Flat works look good on paper, but gate works? Gate works are truth. That big green monster ain’t just for decoration — it separates the wannabes from the race-ready.
And let’s talk about the tote board for a second. You ever see a 6-1 morning line horse go to 2-1 and wonder what in the sweet hell happened? That’s what happens when too many people read the same report, written by a guy who had one eye on the stopwatch and the other on his avocado toast. It gets passed around like a joint at a Willie Nelson concert and suddenly everybody knows the "hidden" work. That’s why I don’t just read a clocker report — I watch the gate. Every morning. Horses don’t lie. But people sure can, because that avocado toast with some fig jelly on top, that's some good eating.
So yeah, maybe you wanna play early in the meet. Be my guest. But for my money? I want the back half. Let the horses get settled. Let ‘em figure out the surface, the weather, which rarely changes the vibe. Then let’s go to work.
Because this game ain't just about gambling — it’s about edges, about information, and about avoiding the herd. If you’re just lookin’ to burn money for fun, go find a blackjack table and flirt with a dealer named Misty. But if you want to actually beat the game, be smarter than the average bear. Watch our smoke from the gate. Read between the tote lines. And above all — stop handin’ out good info like it’s Halloween candy. This ain’t charity, and winners ain’t supposed to be democratic.
Stay sharp, stay sweaty, and don’t let the heat fool ya — August is for professionals.
and you'll fit just right with a little banjo in the background and a cup of burnt gas station coffee in hand.
