A Day at the Races

Wetherby Races , Yorkshire on Boxing day is quite a spectacle. Although it was A Day at the Races I didn’t spot the Marx Brothers, but, after some of the results I did begin to wonder if Harpo Marx and his brothers were lurking somewhere and swore I heard Harpo’s horn at the end of each race.

I always find the atmosphere and the people at these occasions so very friendly. This was National Hunt racing, so they had fences to jump. The first race was by no means disappointing as I didn’t expect my selection to win. It didn’t. In the second race, again, I wasn’t optimistic, and when my horse immediately went to the front, I was even less so. Three miles is a long way to maintain a lead and as he faded so did my chance of taking a bit of money from the bookies. There is a strong possibility that he is still running. The third race of the day was my big chance, I knew in my bones I had a winner and I was right,  my horse romped home. Sadly he had left his jockey at around the fifth fence. 😦                                                                                                                                                         I’m not really a gambler, I see it as a puzzle rather than a way to make money and my bets are modest. In life I try to control what are considered vices. If I became addicted to gambling I would, eventually, have to give it up and I don’t want to, so I purposely deprive myself of it for long periods or watch the racing without betting. But I do love the atmosphere, the thrill and excitement.

When the adventure and the excitement is over you are left with the passion, poetry and veneration of the sport. This is reserved for the victorious and if your a poor loser then it’s probably back to the bar.

On this occasion I suspended my losers tipple and shared the joy of the winners. A word of warning though, gritting your teeth too hard can be painful 🙂