by Trey Nosrac

The day we celebrate as New Year’s Day began in 45 BC when Julius Caesar revised the old Roman calendar. As soon as the date was official, ancient Romans celebrated the first day of Janus, the Roman god of beginnings, with parties and sacrifices. Janus became January.

Citizens began welcoming the new year with resolutions shortly after the new calendar became the law of the land. For example, during a hard night of partying, Caesar made a New Year’s resolution to “lighten up on Pompey.” Pompey was a Roman Republic Army leader who was challenging the status quo. A few months later, in the Battle of Pharsalus, Caesar and his crew routed the Roman Republic Army under the command of Pompey. Pompey fled the battle for Egypt, where he was assassinated and never celebrated another New Year.

Caesar not only set the calendar, but he also set an early example of how most New Year’s resolutions fail. In 2012, I made my final resolution — never to make another New Year’s Resolution. So far, I am holding firm.

Did you ever notice that a resolution may be (positive) to do something, or a resolution may be (negative) not to do something? Or both, like in 1999 when I resolved to ride three brisk miles daily on a stationary bike while drinking three beers and wagering on harness racing while watching grainy harness races on a dial-up modem.

If you are a horse racing person who makes resolutions, a cheat sheet follows:

• Never wager on a horse that will leave the gate with odds under 2-1.

• Learn to communicate with racehorses telepathically.

• Make a withdrawal from your horse racing gambling account to prove it is possible.

• Never marry another woman named Trixie who hates horse racing.

• Rewatch the 1989 movie Let It Ride.

• Wager on a harness racecard from a country that does not use a starting car.

• Never wager on a horse with a post position of 7 or higher.

• Wager on an entire racecard using only horses with the letters E, R and J in their names.

• Learn how to swear in French.

• Write a soap opera set in a harness racetrack backstretch.

• Start replying “no comment” to political questions or observations from people who own large trucks transporting racehorses.

• Never purchase more than 25.2 per cent of a yearling.

• Take a selfie with a horse in the winner’s circle and send it to a hundred people.

• Mute the sound on a live-streamed race and record yourself calling a race.

• Hire a trainer who will contact you once a month with a report and video.

• Attempt to list your racehorse as a dependent on your taxes.

• Jog horses whenever possible.

• Avoid drugs and alcohol in the yearling sales arena (save them for later).

• Work to institute a “mercy rule” where any horse drawing the 8-hole (9-hole at five-eighths-mile track) in three consecutive races automatically gets the rail in the next start.

• Go to my local harness racetrack nattily dressed as an extra from Guys and Dolls, complete with a fedora hat and white spats.

• Suggest the formation of a harness race league based on yearlings sold from breeding farms.

• Create a revolutionary wagering system that is compatible with our current system.

• Introduce a specific plan with locations and statistics to bring harness racing to non-gambling states.

• Construct a self-supporting wagering platform that guarantees large payoffs for players.

Making that list, especially the positive suggestions, was so much fun that I convinced myself to return to the New Year’s resolution business. I circled the last five on the list, and they will appear for public airing over the next couple of months.

Oh, and if you see a guy at the harness racetrack, wearing a zoot suit, with a “Dame” on his arm, belting out show tunes such as “Luck Be A Lady” — say hello.