Race Daze

We pony up our money and hope to avoid the nags

SINCE I RETIRED from The Seattle Times, I have taken up a shameful way of spending my Thursday afternoons.

On those days, I travel to a "business" where I join other men to gather around television sets where we scream at what is shown on them. Not only do we scream at the tubes, but we also pay for the right to watch short men — and some tiny women — compete against each other dressed in outfits that look like silk pajamas.

We scream and yell things like: "Go, baby, go!" at the images on the TV sets. Then we settle down, have lunch and figure out what we want to do for the next event. "Next" always involves watching the tiny people in silk outfits and betting on which one will cross the finish line first.

Of course I am talking about going to the horse races at Emerald Downs in Auburn. This is how I like to spend my Thursdays. Mostly I spend it with my old friend John.

John and I are what some might call "kept men." These are just the opposite of the familiar "kept women," who depend on a male to keep them in a lifestyle that involves things like going out to lunch, shopping and getting their hair done. In exchange, these women have to look good, spend afternoons buying things that make them look good and occasionally perform "chores" that disgust them.

That's what John and I are like, except we don't shop or do stuff to make us look good. (Is that possible?) We could get our hair done, but we don't have that much hair left to be done. As for the "chores," we still try to do those, but it is our wives who are disgusted by them, not us.

What John and I have in common, aside from being friends for nearly 30 years, is that our wives are still working. If the reader finds any of this remarkable, I can add one more remarkable thing: There are days when horses aren't even running at Emerald Downs. But that doesn't stop several hundred people (mostly guys) from turning out to pony up their money and scream at televisions showing races going on in Florida or California.

John and I approach betting on horses from different perspectives. John reads racing forms that detail everything you would ever want to know about the horse, the jockey, the trainer, the horse's parents, the owners and how the horse has done in past races. Then John carefully weighs all this information and makes his reasoned bet.

On the other hand, I take a more daring tack. If the horse has a stupid name like "Callmemisterstupid," for instance, I'll put money on it in a snap. Or if it has a name that brings me fond memories of Mrs. Johnston, like "Shedevil" or "Youmustobeyme," then I'll bet on it.

Another way I bet is to watch the odds. If the odds are 99-to-1, I will bet on the horse for a couple reasons. If the horse happens to win (it does happen, you know), you can win more than $100 for your $2 bet. Also, I think horses know when people are saying negative things about them like, "This nag runs like a plow horse," so the horses get mad and win just to show those people.

Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose. Same with John.

I know it makes Mrs. Johnston happy that her husband spends his day at the races, drinking beer, eating bad food, yelling at television screens and betting his retirement check.

She just hasn't said it yet. I guess she can't find the right words.

Steve Johnston is a retired Seattle Times reporter. His e-mail address is stevejonst@aol.com. Paul Schmid is a Seattle Times news artist.