by Frank Cotolo

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Belmont Park racing on a weekday was less crowded than on Saturdays and Sundays and I thought that best so my father would not be distracted by characters the track offered who might fit the types of bet-the-horses-guys he warned me about. In reality the nastiest of racetrack bettors were not the tropes depicted in Guys And Dolls or with other Damon Runyon creations.

And so, it was an unusual day being with tight-wound Ralph. He was comfortable; my Lao Tzu playbook was going well enough. As a skillful leader I subdued “the enemy without any fighting.”

And then…

“Go play this one,” he said while pointing to a number on the program. “Two bucks. To win.”

I went to it. Things were feeling all right and they were getting better. When the race went off, he struggled to follow the horse he bet. I reported the action for him. My voice became louder as his horse dueled in the stretch between two others and appeared from our angle to nail the win.

“What happened? Where is he?”

“I think he won.”

Ralph’s face glowed. No such things like this could ever have happened to him. When the numbers lighted the tote board he slapped the program against the empty seat in front of him and laughed until he coughed. I told him to go cash the ticket. Get the rest of the thrill a win delivers by watching the cashier flip dollars down one by one and sprinkle the profit with some change.

“You go,” he said.

I went. I enjoyed the rest of the thrill for him. When I returned to our seats, I imitated the cashier and dealt him a fiver and three singles. Then I showed him two quarters and a dime.

“That’s a good amount, right?” he said.

“Three to one.”

“Look,” he said as he shoved all but two of the bills into his pocket. “I want to bet this horse to win in the next race.”

“Why did you pick this one?”

“I dunno. Good name. I dunno. Just popped out at me.”

I was elated to see him happy and I was happy to be elated about the joy we suddenly shared. But I was no fool. This battle was far from over. Sun Tzu taught me not to be ignorant of changing conditions before a victory. Beginner’s luck is for beginners. Ralph wanted to bet again; he wanted to defy “distances great and small; open ground and narrow passes.”

The time between races crawled. I bought us more coffees and dad told me to watch the clock because he wanted to bet this race. I told him not to worry; he would not get shut out.

“Shut what?”

“Shut out. You know, run out of time to bet.”

“How am I supposed to know what ‘shut out’ means?”

“Sorry. I’m used to being here with people who know the jargon.”

“Jar what?”

“Jargon. The language of a certain trade. Like all the special words and terms you use to describe plumbing work.”

“Oh. But ‘shut out’ is a baseball term too, you know.”

I was unprepared for what was to happen the rest of the racing program. It was enough to make me want to put a frog down Sun Tzu’s battle armor. As I write these some 50 years later, I am still dumbstruck.

Ralph won his second race in a row. His horse beat mine in lengths and in dollars. He was almost excited enough to cash the ticket himself.

“That’s great, dad,” I said.

“Here’s my next bet,” he said, pointing to the program.

I loved a horse in the next race but the horse gods were still on Ralph’s side. He won his third in a row; my horse may as well have pulled up or run amok out of the gate.

“Dad,” I said, patting him on the back for the first time in my adult life, “this is amazing. How are you picking these winners? You have a system you want to share?”

“I just liked those ones. I got no reason. What a crazy thing, eh?”

Indeed. His two-dollar investments already earned him 19-and-change profit; all of which included only a single loss before three-straight wins. I dared not explain parlay wagers to him. But I did the ROI (return on investment) math after his third win and almost fell out of the grandstand. The simple calculations produced a parlay-player’s dream profit.

“I’m going to go with this one,” he said, pointing to a horse in the program without offering any reasons for the choice, “however you say the name. Some crazy names on these things.”