Notes from the 25th Breeders' Cup at Santa Anita

9:15 A.M.: Feeling a little groggy as I pull back the blanket....make that sleeping bag.....from the inflatable mattress that is my nightly resting place at the Palacio de Burns.

Dan and I were going to take it easy last night and rest up for Santa Anita today. Instead we drank wine all night with two 40 year-olds that we met at a sushi bar in Manhattan Beach, one of which used to be on Days of Our Lives and dated Weird Al.

Sounds about right.

9:25 A.M.: Just stepped outside. 75 degrees. Not a cloud in the sky. This day is approximately infinity^2 nicer than last year’s Breeders' Cup, which was run in a monsoon at Monmouth Park in New Jersey.

Hopefully, the night & day comparison to last year will serve as a reminder that holding any meaningful sporting event in New Jersey is about as smart as betting on Lindsay Lohan's sobriety.

10:05 A.M.: I have a Jamba Juice in one hand, a Peet’s coffee in the other, and an 8-gallon jug of water at my feet.....and we’re off to Santa Anita (me, Dan, and his buddy Taka). It’s looking like a food optional morning as we’re determined to find the tangent line to the pari-mutuel window.

Buckle in.

10:40 A.M.: Unfortunately, we’re going to miss the first two Breeder’s Cup races due to the early start time and the time required to trek out to Santa Anita (first post was at 10:10 AM). I'd better call Pops, who is at the OTB back home, and have him make a bet or two for me. I’ve got a long-shot I like in the 2nd race.

10:55 A.M.: Still in the car, but my phone is ringing and it’s dad (a call immediately following a race is always a good sign). YEESSSSSSSSS is the answer. My horse, Desert Code, won the Turf Sprint at 36-1. Had him to win and show. The ideal start to a day with a ton of betting potential.

Anecdotally, my internal voice is thinking: “carrrrrne asada.”

11:10 A.M.: We’re walking through the parking lot at Santa Anita and immediately to our right is the ESPN/ABC TV crew of Randy Moss and Gary Stevens who have set up shop in the first turn. And oddly, there’s no barrier -- or security -- in between us and them. I could easily walk onto their makeshift set and live-air. Potentially worth it to say "muchas gracias" to the connections of Desert Code for getting my day off to a kick-ass start, but I abstain so that we’re actually allowed onto the grounds.

Next time.

11:30 A.M.: Santa Anita is a sparkling back drop for the proceedings. Not a cloud in the sky, mountains in the background, gorgeous women everywhere, and a Dos Equis stand quickly approaching (where the beer flows like wine).

Q: Why do I live in Chicago? A: I'm a moron.

11:55 A.M.: The first race we actually see is the dirt mile. I make $25 worth of wagers. I lose $25. You know what that means: it’s time for a cold one, preferably a Bud Heavy.

12:30 P.M.: Two important developments. First, the European sensation, Goldikova, just made a redonkulous acceleration, busting threw a tiny hole, and then going on to steamroll the field in the Turf Mile -- producing our first winning wager on site. One of the most impressive moves I’ve ever seen.

Second, I have found my teller for the day: a smoking brunette with a mile-wide smile. Admittedly, she’s not working at the most desirable window at the track – hers is down below the grandstand - but a geographic inconvenience is not about to prevent me from making every single wager with her from this point forward.

1:40 P.M.: The two Juvenile races have passed uneventfully. I had nada in the race on dirt. Won a little on Westphalia, who came in second, in the Juvenile Turf.

Of more relevance, I would swear I’m getting some vibe from my teller. My ad hoc flirtations, in between my $1 trifecta wheels, have garnered multiple smiles. Be on the lookout for a phone booth: I might need a red cape before this day is over.

1:45 P.M.: Having a classic flashback to last night. Dan and I were sitting at the sushi bar when I overheard the guy next to me say to his date (in a sincere tone), “we’ve all dated models; we’ve all moved on.” An unforgettable moment which produced three immediate follow-on thoughts: 1) that happens only in L.A. and 2) that guy’s picture needs to be inserted in the dictionary next to the word “impossible” and 3) I’m definitely using that line again, if only to elicit a knee-jerk reaction from someone & retell the story.

1:55 P.M.: Our posse is expanding. Two of my boys just got to the track: Sando and Derek. And two of Dan’s friends, Katie and Soley, have arrived as well. This correlates to more money for group bets and more beeeeers all around.

Only upside here.

2:20 P.M.: I just gave Dan permission to pour a beer over my head if I don’t ask the brunette teller for her number by day’s end; he’s even sensing the reciprocal vibe.

Frankly, I’ve got no qualms with the beer-over-head scenario: things are going too well with her not to give it a go. Either that or my day-long bit of strategery -- dousing beers sans food -- is starting to make me hallucinate.

Either way, positive thoughts abound.

2:30 P.M.: Check out the move that Midnight Lute made last year to win the Sprint. Now watch him do it again this year. This is definitely one of the best sprinters of all time. A big-time privilege to see this colt run.

2:35 P.M.: Picking up a girl who is working at the track is a borderline impossible feat. That being said, things could not be going any better with my teller. I’m getting numerous smiles even when I’m not at the betting window (i.e. when I’m hanging out in the stalker’s zone, studying the form).

Correlated thought: how do you say “ludicrous speed” in Spanish?

2:45 P.M.: Only two races left. Time to get serious. Luckily, they both have tremendous betting potential. I like Winchester in the Turf, who at 15-1 is going to be the key player in our trifecta wheels. Love the fact that Winchester’s owners are throwing him in the deep end of the pool for $3M with older horses (Winchester is a three year-old); that shows some serious cojones.

Plus, I saw Winchester romp the field in the Secretariat at Arlington; he might just be good enough to pull this off. Besides, I told Dan I was going to put us in a position to win thousands of dollars today; Winchester gives us that chance.

I will play $6 across the board on Conduit as well, just in case Winchester doesn’t fire. A much shorter price, but a worthwhile hedge as I think Conduit will be in the money.

2:55 P.M.: Winchester didn’t have it today, but Conduit rolled right by ‘em in the stretch, so we actually made a little dough on the race. We have approx. $85 to play with for the Classic.

On a side note, my buzz is reaching the fantastical zone.

3:15 P.M.: A woman from ABC’s The Bachelorette just walked up and give me her card, hoping I would consider coming on the show. I thanked her for the compliment but told her I’m not made out for reality TV, unless it’s on the yet-to-be-created: “Who Wants to be a Horse Racing Handicapper?”

Nonetheless, at this point my confidence is approaching stratospheric heights, and my new Ryder Cup golf shirt, which I’m wearing at the track, might have to be retired after today and placed in the vault: “moniest one-day shirt ever.”

3:30 P.M.: Regardless of the outcome in the Classic I need to send Jess Jackson, Curlin’s majority owner, a Christmas Card. Jackson, who is Jackson of Kendall-Jackson Wines, could have retired Curlin at the end of ‘07. Most owners would have done that very thing. Instead, for love of the sport, he brought him back to run again this year – a decision which would have cost him upwards of $35M (at stud) if something had happened to his superstar.

But Curlin came through ’08 injury free, and this year horse racing fans have watched in admiration as Curlin annihilated fields at Belmont, Saratoga, Churchill Downs, and in Dubai. Curlin is now North America’s all-time leader in money earnings, and we are about to watch his final race.

Thank you Jess Jackson. Our sport needs more of you.

3:35 P.M.: I consulted with the crew. No more shenanighans, no more ballyhoo – it’s all or nothing. Our remaining $85 is taking aim at a big payout.

Here’s our strategery: we’re going to play Raven’s Pass, Henrythenavigator, and Curlin on top in a trifecta, with those same three horses and Tiago to be second and third ($54). I’m also going to play $10 across the board on Raven’s Pass, who at 15-1 is absurdly underbet in my opinion. ESPECIALLY when considering the way the Euros have faired thus far on the Pro-Ride (artificial) surface at Santa Anita.

Cross your fingers.

3:44 P.M.: The horses are approaching the gate and it occurs to be me that I have exactly zero wagers with Tiago to win. Not ideal, but what are you gonna do.

3:46 P.M.: It’s 88 degrees at post-time and 53,000 fans have come to their feet to watch twelve of the best horses in the world take aim at the Breeder’s Cup Classic. It is an awesome sight. Ultra glad to be here, taking it in with my boys.

3:49 P.M.: What a race. One of the most exciting I've ever seen in person. Curlin made a HUGE move on the turn, but the Euros ran him down in the stretch. More specifically, OUR Euros ran him down, with Raven’s Pass winning and Henrythenavigator coming in second. There’s a photo for show between Curlin and Tiago, which means...HOLY SHITBALLS....we have the trifecta, REGARDLESS of who is 3rd.

3:50 P.M.: I tell the boys we have the trifecta. They are rejoicing but have no idea what we’ve just done. I turn to Dan and say as wryly as possible: “this is gonna pay a lot.”

3:52 P.M.: Tiago is 3rd. Which means -- stealing a line from my dad -- this payout is not only big, it's “gonna be a whopper.”

3:54 P.M.: The $1 trifecta pays $2400, and we have a $3 tri: $7200!!!!! Plus, we have Raven’s Pass across the board, which will pay another $400 or so.

We going to Sizzler....we going to Sizzler.

3:56 P.M.: E-U-P-H-O-R-I-A.

3:58 P.M.: More beeeeeeeeers over here.

4:02 P.M.: Euphoria has subsided. We've moved onto: J-U-B-I-L-A-T-I-O-N.

4:04 P.M.: It has been said before. I'll say it again: this is the Sport of Kings.

4:10 P.M.: The day's only downside, our payout is so large I have to report to the IRS window. If I want to cash-in the trifecta today, they are going to take 30% out in taxes (from the $7200, not the $400 on Raven’s Pass). Handing out thousand dollar allotments to my boys is a must (we are splitting the winnings 5 ways), so I take the hit from Uncle Sam, and leave the window with 55 crisp hundred dollar bills.

4:12 P.M.: Not only do I leave the window with a wad o’ dough, but my teller has just given me her number on my IRS form. And incredibly, hers is an 812 area code: THE SAME AS THE KNOBS.

Turns out, she’s originally from Evansville and just out here working for the weekend. Unfathomable.

4:20 P.M.: Derek brought a 40-inch lens to the proceedings, and he’s now taking pics of Arrrrrnold, the Guvinator, who is congratulating the connections of Raven’s Pass and encouraging attendees to come back next year, when the BC returns to Santa Anita (i.e. throwing salt in the wounds of Churchill Downs which couldn’t agree to terms with the Breeder’s Cup for ’09). Somehow, we’re only 30 or 40 feet from the podium.

This is an all-around epic day.

4:25 P.M.: We gather for a group shot by SeaBiscuit (atop). Defying gravity seems well within our reach at this point.

4:30 P.M.: We exit the gates of Santa Anita on a man-made high that comes from joint jubilation. The kind that can only be experienced when shared.

4:35 P.M.: Final thought for the day as we pile into the Acura and lay claim to the Roman Empire:

“Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.”