Smarter Than a Third Grader

Ah… the morning line — that quaint little fiction we all pretend isn’t propaganda.

Let’s not kid ourselves. Once upon a time, the morning line was a tool — a forecast, an honest attempt to gauge how the public would bet, not how someone in the press box wanted them to bet. It was math, sentiment, history, and nuance — a bookmaker’s crystal ball. But now?

Now it’s closer to performance art.

We’ve gone from cold-eyed handicappers to ringmasters in a low-budget circus, where the opening act is “Guess That Price!” hosted by none other than Jeff Foxworthy. “You might be a morning line maker if you think a horse with Flavien Prat, on a bullet work, dropping in class, and trained by Chad Brown should be 8-1.” Really? 8-1? That’s not handicapping — that’s fan fiction.

And what happens? The public — ravenous, instinctive, not nearly as gullible as you might hope — descends on the tote board like wolves on a limping deer. The 8-1 horse opens at 3-1, goes off at 5-2, and suddenly every sharpie in the building is muttering, “Someone knows something?” We have all heard that.

It’s not a forecast. It’s a flare gun. A beacon to every living, breathing horseplayer that screams, “Look at me!” And the sad part? It works. The psychological manipulation, the baited odds, the imaginary overlay — it sucks in the hopeful and the desperate alike.

Because the truth, my friend, is that the morning line isn’t just broken. It’s become a punchline.

So the next time you see a horse with top connections, perfect setup, dream trip written all over him, and he’s somehow listed at 10-1 on the morning line? Ask yourself one simple question:

Are you smarter than a third grader?

The morning line NOW is irrelevant!

Go Fund Me for Junior

You’d think someone had burned down the Churchill Downs Twin Spires the way people are carrying on. The outrage. The gnashing of teeth. The dramatic cries from the wilderness: “They’re ruining the game!” “HISA is destroying tradition!”“This is why we can’t grow the sport!”

No, my friend. That’s not why racing isn’t growing. Racing isn’t growing because it’s still running its business like it’s 1978 and Secretariat might stroll in for a cameo.

But let’s focus on this moment of collective hysteria, shall we? Junior Alvarado. A fine for overuse of the whip. Nine strikes — not six, not seven. Nine. The limit is six. They give you a warning after seven. But no — the industry recoils like he’s been shackled in the town square and pelted with rotten tomatoes.

“It’s unfair!” they cry. No… it’s the rule. And everyone — everyone — agreed to it. Jockeys. Stewards. Trainers. Horsemen. They weren’t dragged kicking and screaming into some dark regulatory gulag. This was not the horse racing equivalent of the Patriot Act.

"But where is the money going", begs to ask a nation........

Thank you to Lisa Lazarus for a quick response.

And yet, the hand-wringing is extraordinary. It’s as if Junior Alvarado is now the patron saint of misplaced priorities. You’d think he was a beloved war hero being ticketed for jaywalking at his own parade.

Meanwhile, the actual Derby winner — the perfectly healthy, glowing, majestic Sovereignty of the Twin Spires — will not run in the Preakness. He becomes the seventh Derby winner since 1973 to skip the second jewel, in his case, without injury. And that… that barely registers a murmur.

Where is the collective indignation there? Where’s the existential hand-wringing about growing the sport? About losing fans? About undercutting the Triple Crown’s relevance?

No. Instead, we’re screaming about a whip fine. And while we're on the topic — let’s spare a moment for the logic behind the protest. One jockey even said, “It’s hard to keep count in the heat of battle.”Really? Is that where we’re at? That’s the defense? “Sorry, officer, I can't drive 55. I Got A Need for Speed”

You’re professionals. Athletes. You’re asked to follow a rule for the welfare of the horse, the sport, and the optics of an industry perpetually on a public relations ventilator. This isn’t tyranny. It’s accountability.

Its like Junior Alvarado won't be able to buy lunch for horse racing social media anymore, well maybe these racing fans, being so upset, start a go fund me for Junior, in fact lets start a go fund me for any jockey receiving a fine for any rule violation.

"Anytime social media rears its collective heads, I feel I need another tetanus shot, or at least a hot shower to scrub off the grease, that's why racing can't have nice things" from a level headed racing fan we affectionally call 'HR' -Amy Kearns.

And while we're spinning our wheels with tribal outrage over one fine, a social media influencer actually trying to promote the game — Griffin Johnson — is met with a cynical, dismissive cold shoulder. Because god forbid someone new tries to bring attention to racing.

We don’t have our priorities backwards… no, we’ve made the bold leap into the fourth dimension. Our priorities aren’t just upside down — they’re missing in action.

So here’s a thought: The next time you feel like raising your voice for the good of the game… maybe ask yourself if the flag you’re waving is for progress — or just a smokescreen to protect the status quo.

Because if this sport fought half as hard for innovation as it does for seven to nine whip strikes, it might still have a fighting chance. After all, aren't we smarter than a third grader? I think NOT.