THE HORSEPLAYER’S ODYSSEY
When I was a young boy, I read The Odyssey by Homer.
You know the one.
Trojan War. Ulysses,spent years trying to get his ass home.
Back then, I thought it was a great story.
Now I realize Homer was writing about horseplayers.
He just didn't know it.
Let's start with the city of Troy.
The whole damn war started because somebody fell in love with somebody who was off limits.
That's how gambling starts.
You make a bet.
You win.
You're hooked.
You take your new love affair home, and suddenly your family has a new member they didn't invite.
“Where were you?”
“The racetrack.”
“Oh. Wonderful.”
Gambling comes in all forms. I've known guys who would bet on anything.
Sports. Politics. Golf.
I've even seen guys bet on cockroaches running across the floor.
“I'm taking the one on the left. Better stride.”
I'm not that guy.
I play the horses.
But when gambling starts demanding redemption, that's when the war begins.
You lose.
You want your money back.
You lose again.
Now it's personal.
For some people, that war lasts decades.
You're Ulysses.
You're trying to conquer Troy, end the war and get home.
Except every horseplayer has a Trojan Horse.
Usually two.
Tips and chasing.
Every racetrack has that Wise Guy.
“I heard something.”
“Horse is live.”
“Trainer is sitting on this one.”
He's already told 100 people.
He's probably wrong. He most likely will be wrong.
But he'll remind you about the one time he was right.
“You remember that horse I gave you during the last lunar eclipse?”
No.
But somehow you do.
You weren't even going to bet.
Then the Trojan Horse rolls up carrying promises.
Next thing you know, you're at the track, on the ADW, or calling your illegal bookie.
All because some guy with a coffee in one hand, told you he had a good one.
That's the Trojan Horse.
Looks harmless.
Until you open it.
Then there's THE chasing.
You get stuck on a horse.
The horse loses.
You bet him again.
He loses again.
Now you're pissed.
He comes back next time.
“Today is the day.”
You've done it.
You've developed a personal relationship with an animal that has absolutely no idea you exist.
That's when the Odyssey begins.
Ulysses had to deal with Poseidon, Circe, Calypso, the Lotus Eaters, the Laestrygonians and Polyphemus.
You know what that sounds like?
Saratoga.
Poseidon is Murphy's Law.
Bet a speed horse.
He gets left.
Bet the favorite.
He stumbles.
Finally find a horse you love.
Scratched.
The horse you threw out at 20-1 wins.
Poseidon had a good day.
Then there are the Lotus Eaters.
You eat a plant that made you forget home.
At the racetrack, that's alcohol.
And alcohol and gambling mix about as well as gasoline and a match.
“I'll make a couple of bets and go home.”
Three hours later:
“I don't remember what happened, but apparently I owe $400.”
They're the payout.
“Just one more.”
Suddenly you're betting everything on the menu.
Win.
Place.
Exacta.
Trifecta.
Super.
Pick 3.
Pick 4.
Pick 5.
Pick 6.
Hell, the quinella looks good.
The Sirens are singing.
You're heading straight for the rocks.
Then there's Circe and Calypso.
Women at the racetrack.
Enough said.
You're supposed to be handicapping, but now you're chasing something else.
They've trapped you.
You've lost two races and three hours.
You making bets for everyone
Excellent handicapping, well done, you lost all the bets and left standing there at the end of the day like a Mammaluke.
Then come the Laestrygonians.
The cannibals.
Your friends.
They're always right.
Before the race.
They know the winner.
They know the pace.
They know the jockey.
They know everything.
Until you ask to see their ticket.
Then they're broke.
“Can you loan me $40? I got one in the eighth.”
The cannibals eat you alive.
And finally, Polyphemus the Cyclop.
The jockey.
This is where you stop playing horses and start playing jockeys.
“I love the horse, but I hate the rider.”
Or:
“I'm using him because he's hot.”
You handicap the entire race correctly.
Then the jockey finds a way to screw it up.
The Cyclops have eaten you again.
But here's the thing about Ulysses.
He survives.
Not because he's stronger than every monster.
Because eventually he has to overcome his own damn hubris.
Sound familiar?
That's the horseplayer's real battle.
Sometimes it isn't the horse.
It isn't the jockey.
It isn't the trainer.
It's the guy staring back at you in the mirror, you.
Your ego, your pride.
We all have a Trojan Horse.
The tipster.
The chase.
The drink.
The Sirens.
Or that beautiful little lie:
“I'll get even with this next race.”
Some guys will even bet the WNBA to get even.
That's when you know you've sailed too far from Troy.
The Odyssey is all about getting home.
That's what we're trying to do.
Get home with ship intact, our sanity intact and, if we're lucky, some money in our pocket.
But there's always another race.
Another tip.
Another horse.
Another Siren.
Another Trojan Horse sitting there looking innocent.
And that's why we're not so different from Ulysses.
We've all been to Troy.
We've all fought monsters.
We've all listened to the Sirens.
We've all chased something we should have left alone.
And every damn one of us is just trying to get home.
Hopefully with enough money left to pay the mortgage.
Yup, shoulda stayed home and read a book.
