By Mark La Monica
We are a culture that migrates toward the glorious and victorious, and as such the axiom states, “No one remembers who came in second.”
I tend to disagree. I will never forget Bluegrass Cat, who just so happened to finish second in this year’s Kentucky Derby.
Here’s a horse that received plenty of praise in the pre-Derby season before taking a dump in the Tampa Bay Derby and the Bluegrass Stakes, both graded-stakes races.
But of course, as life would have it, Bluegrass Cat, the No. 13 horse, sandwiched himself between Barbaro, the No. 8 horse, and Steppenwolfer, the No. 2 horse, thereby destroying by brilliantly researched exacta bet and giving me a case of the Bluegrass Blues.
I strolled into the Race Palace minutes before 4 p.m. on Derby Saturday to secure a table for myself and my parents, in keeping with a tradition that began minutes before 4 p.m. on Derby Saturday.
My brain was loaded with all the necessary information for placing intelligent, financially fruitful bets, plus the $1 quit-my-job superfecta bet. This was like walking into a college classroom for a final knowing full well that you studied perfectly and will get an A. I clearly read the wrong book.
Covering all bases, I had some Brother Derek bets going, some Jazil bets, some what-the-heck-it’s-a-great-name Sinister Minister bets, and a sweet Barbaro-Steppenwolfer exacta. I was wise enough to avoid Lawyer Ron after O.J. Simpson endorsed that horse in the days prior to the Derby. And Bob and John was a non-factor at the betting window for the simple reason that he’s co-owned by Bob McNair, the Houston Texans owner who passed on Reggie Bush in last month’s draft.
As the race began, the crowd at the Race Palace started going crazy. Plenty of screaming and yelling, all for the good cause of winning money based on the performance of an animal whose sole objective is to make humans win money.
Once the horses came into the final turn, I knew I wouldn’t be quitting my job with the superfecta. And Brother Derek was off doing something else other than winning the race he was favored to win earlier in the day.
Barbaro emerged from the field and I had one betting slip left to help me pay for dinner later that night. Steppenwolfer is a closer and he’s on the screen in third place so there was still some hope. But noooooooooooooooooooooo. Friggin’ Bluegrass Cat, the dump-taker last month, decided to race, swiping my exacta fortune and sticking me with another ATM fee to help pay for dinner.
Maybe I should just stick to watching horse movies. I wonder if “Hot to Trot” is available on Netflix.