JC / Railbird

Readings Archive

Readings: Conley

“After one of Slew’s three losses, his jockey, Jean Cruguet, bitched to the press about him: ‘I told those people he wasn’t ready for the race after beating four bums going seven furlongs. I told them he wouldn’t beat Dr. Patches.’ Cruguet never rode Slew again.
“The jockey who replaced him, Angel Cordero, had been begging for the ride for nearly two years, ever since Slew beat his horse, For the Moment, in the Champagne Stakes. Cordero and his mounts had lost to Slew on many occasions, so he was familiar with Slew’s intimidating style, the way he stared down not just the horse but the rider as well. Cordero, who was not beyond using intimidation tactics himself, couldn’t help admiring this cold and level eye. He told a reporter that as Slew pulled away from him in the Kentucky Derby, he said, ‘Goodbye, Soul Brother.’

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Posted in Readings on December 14, 2004

Readings: Horse Crazy

“Sam loved horses first and nothing else a close second. All day he thought of them, and talked about them if he came across an interested listener. But not by the domestic fireside where the topic was taboo. In fact, for the sake of peace at home, Sam soft-pedaled his talk, kept his thoughts to himself, and finally gave up going to the races except on Saturdays and Sundays.
“One day, when he was going through a department store, a salesman at the hat counter said to him, ‘Thinking of buying a hat, mister? We have a new shipment in. The latest styles.’
“Sam looked at the young fellow a moment in a dull sort of way, as if he hadn’t understood what had been said. Then he took of his soiled and battered hat and glanced at it. ‘No, I wasn’t thinking of buying a hat,’ he answered. ‘I was thinking of buying a horse.'” — From “Horse Crazy,” by Jesse Lilienthal

Posted in Readings on November 28, 2004

Readings: Calling Lady Ellsworth

“George B. ‘Brownie’ Leach, general manager of the Keeneland Sales Company, tells of a horse lover who also had a fondness for bourbon. The gentleman was particularly fond of a mare named Lady Ellsworth, and the more he thought and talked about her, the better he liked her. At two a.m. one morning he called the farm and convinced the sleepy owner that he wanted to talk to Lady Ellsworth. The owner finally convinced the caller that she could not be roused at that late hour. Next morning, feeling a bit contrite, Lady Ellsworth’s admirer again called the farm, apologizing. ‘I shouldn’t have behaved that way,’ he said, ‘but if it isn’t too much trouble I wish you’d call Lady Ellsworth to the telephone now.'” — From “Call Me Horse,” edited by Tom R. Underwood and John I. Day

Posted in Readings on November 21, 2004

Readings: Veeck II

“The Racing Form is a mass of arcane figures, meaningless to the uninitiated but crammed full of information for the aficionado. To a greater or lesser degree, the regular horseplayer believes that somewhere in those figures lies the secret of success. Never mind that the variables in each race are endless; never mind that the horses below a certain class are so inconsistent as to turn past form into the chanciest of guides; never mind that racing luck is a factor which overhangs it all. That’s the lure of it. That’s the terrible grip it has over him. Luck itself is the most important sign of all, don’t you see? It is a sign delivered on a direct line from heaven, telling him whether he has been chosen to be one of the winners or doomed to be a perennial loser. For to a greater or lesser degree, the aficionado-loser believes — subconsciously, to be sure — that there is only one possible outcome to every race, and that he has only to search the figures deeply enough and read them wisely enough for them to give up their secret to him.” — From “Thirty Tons a Day,” by Bill Veeck

Posted in Readings on November 14, 2004