Tuesday, August 21, 2001
Distracted at Del Mar
By Kenny Mayne
Special to ESPN.com
Skimming?
No. They did more than skim. They took it all.
That said, Del Mar Thoroughbred Club is one of the loveliest
places in the world. To lose my money.
Seattle is lovely also. Maybe next time I'm there I'll
trail $20 bills behind me to see if I can have an equally
swell time.
In the Saratoga program the custom of elegant attire
is mentioned. Ladies and gentlemen are urged to dress with
class, to help uphold the dignity of the grand racetrack.
At Del Mar, they may as well print up a page advocating
the legalization of marijuana. Yeah, it's laid-back there.
I got so laid-back (drug free) that I melted into my chair
and forgot what the symbols in the Daily Racing Form
stood for.
It's not like you needed a form to know about Skimming.
They put his damn picture on the cover of the program.
It was as if the Del Mar management was encouraging
us to create a minus pool.
But no. I didn't want $ 2.10. I didn't even want 8-5 on the horse WHO
HAD NEVER LOST AT DEL MAR. 8-5 on the horse WHO HAD WON THE SAN DIEGO
HANDICAP AND THE PACIFIC CLASSIC LAST YEAR AND WHO HAD AGAIN WON THE SAN
DIEGO THIS SUMMER.
Instead, I was into being mellow and passive. Here,
sir, have my hard earned money and distribute it among
the other patrons.
I chose a horse, Captain Steve, who had apparently
had his speed confiscated by customs upon his return
from Dubai.
Still, there was much to like about the whole experience.
It's all so civil at Del Mar. People were friendly in a way
that I thought no longer existed having spent seven years
driving with citizens who populate the state of Connecticut.
In the infield, unlike the unruly, drunken infields of Churchill
on Derby day and Pimlico on any day, the infield at
Del Mar could have carried on nicely without any adult
supervision, never mind the snipers needed for the first
two legs of the Triple Crown brought to you by
Visa.
At Del Mar a playland for children was what passed
for anarchy. They had swings, they had slides.
They had one big huge slide.
Child: Look mom, no hands!
Me: (After Skimming's win) Look wife, no money!
Captain Steve rolled up towards the leaders on the far turn
and my heart (if this is possible under such a crush
of mellowness) began to pound. OK. It pounded once.
For it was at that point I realized Skimming had yet
to take off his warmups. His lead pony was still jogging
with him for all I know. Skimming had been running
at this juncture only because of some sort of requirement
that the horses take a lap around the track or something.
It was at this point that he actually exerted some
effort.
Not much effort.
And once again he blew away the field.
All of this should have been so clearly seen.
And it was. The civility at Del Mar rivaled the perfect
natural setting which rivaled the perfect state of mellow.
In the infield, at race time, the customers who'd set up
umbrellas to shield themselves from the sun, would dutifully
collapse their structures so as not to block anyone's view.
My group of miscreants seated in the clubhouse were
schooled in civility earlier in the card when the people
behind us admonished us about standing during the
stretch run.
Didn't we know anything? We were to melt into our chairs.
Be mellow. Be civil.
We stood up anyway. And in the Classic, it was my only
way to see clearly what I hadn't noticed previously.
And suddenly it hit me. Just after Skimming's mellow
romp, the fragrant ocean air rolled across the track.
It reminded me of ... the ocean. It reminded me there
are dead fish in the ocean.
But it was only temporary. The fish, mindful of the rules
on civility and mellowness knew not to stand up or
stand out. That or sea lions devoured them.
Win or lose the good feelings are what I left with.
And I departed optimistic about future plays at Del Mar.
Time heals everything.
My pari-mutuel wounds were forgotten by the time I walked
to my gate at the San Diego airport.
But as I walked to my gate Cigar's picture stared down
at me on the wall of a corridor. The picture mocked me.
Hadn't Cigar himself lost in the Classic?
For all I know he probably lost to Skimming. Or Skimming's
lead pony. No, it was Dare And Go. I remember now.
I remember it was civil. The people there are always good. It's those
damn horses who misbehave.
