Track Rat

 

This is a pic from the finish of the fourth race today. I won $10. I found it mildly amusing at the number of people who came up to me to ask what horses I was picking, solely on the basis of my physical presence.

 

I was wearing jeans and an untucked white oxford (seems to be my uniform lately), a retro Houston Astros t-shirt, sunglasses and had a Newport Light going much of the time. When the program wasn’t rolled up in my back pocket, I must have had some bizarre air of confidence as I was studying it, circling numbers and checking the odds board.

 

One of my friends said I looked like a track rat. I took it as a compliment.

 

After he said that, there was an extra bounce in my step going from the rail to the betting window and back. This, of course, only added to the ill-gotten reputation.

 

It is amazing to me the amount of trust people will invest in confidence. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not a misleader, but I know inherently what I’m good at and what I am not. Picking horses is among the latter. It felt unusual to be recognized as something different than the same ol’ PK. It felt good. It was fun. A detached fun, but fun nonetheless.