BOB BAFFERT'S HEART ATTACK IN DUBAI

They sit above the finish line at Santa Anita.  Hampton sits with  his partner, Newport, and their  escorts from Vegas, Pepper and Ginger.

Hampton holds the front page of the Daily Racing Form:
DUBAI, United Arab Emirates (AP) Hall of Fame trainer Bob Baffert had a heart attack early Monday in Dubai where he was preparing to run Game On Dude in the $10 million Dubai World Cup, the world's richest horse race.

Hampton's SmartPhone vibrates.

"Hello, is this Hampton.  This is Bob Buffert.   How you doing?"

"Bob.  Bob Baffert.  This is crazy. I'm reading the Form, you're on the front page." 

"Yeah, I'm over here in Dubai, the the World Cup, and well.   I was feeling bad coming over here, then it hit me.  Heart surgery.  Doctors put in three stents in my arteries.  Got real tired after visiting the barn.  It was Jill, my wife, called  the paramedics."

''They caught it just in time.'' says Hampton.

''I sure hope so.  But when you have Sheik Mo come visit you ... then you know you're getting the best treatment possible."

"Sheik Mo?" says Hampton.

"He like rules Dubai.  Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid al Maktoum,  He came by he hospital. He owns Darley Stud and Godolphin Racing, one of world's best thoroughbred breeding and racing stables."

"When are you coming back?  Be here for the Santa Anita Derby?"

"Well, it's been a bad trip all around.  This heart surgery, and Game on Dude, didn't come in.  He started 14th, so it was a rough race.  Chantell is a world class jockey.  She did what she could.  I'll  have to call Joe Torre too.  He's part owner.  Hard to tell the owner he lost a race, but he probably already knows anyway."

"Who's he talking to," asks Pepper.

"Bob Baffert," says Newport.  "World class race horse trainer.   His horses are in the biggest races in the world.   He's won the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes  Belmont Stakes, all the big races."

She stares up at Newport.

"You've seen him.  The guy on the race shows they interview...with the white hair?"

She nods.  "I think I have,"  she says.

"Race is about to start, Bob," says Hampton.  "I know you wanted my horse, but I want to see it run.  If it does well, I'll get him in the Santa Anita Derby next week if I can."

"I liked it when I first saw him.  He's got potential.  I'd buy him myself. But I'd change his name, you know.  Sorry I can't be back to watch it with you guys.  Good Luck, Hampton."

"See ya Bob, and get well."

The announcer says, "The flag is up.  And...there they go.

Ginger and Pepper jump and giggle.

"Breaking on top it's Speedy, from the inside we have Flat Out, Pronto, and Zippy is right there.  On the outside it's Chop-Chop, along side Lickety Split.  Two lengths back to Grease Lightning, Helter Skelter, moving between horses it's Double Time, Head Long, then it's Hustle, Fasterthanaspeedingbullet, and Rocketship."

The four stand still, then look at each other.

"I see him," says Hampton.  "Yellow and red checks, number 14.  I think that's him."

"Around the First Turn, It's still Speedy by a length, Pronto second, a nose ahead of Flat Out, Zippy, and Chop-Chop.  First quarter in 21 and one.  That's fast folks.  They're flying."

What's the name of our horse, I forget," says Pepper.

"Unresponsive," says Ginger.  "Come on Unresponsive.  He's in the race, right?"

"Well, where is he?" says Pepper.  She points toward the horses.  "I didn't hear his name.  You sure this the right race?"

"Yes, my dear," says Hampton.  "He's back there...somewhere."  He scans the horses with binoculars. "I think that's him.  He's pretty far back."

"...Grease Lightning, four lengths to Double Time, and Helter Skelter, and Head Long,  Like Wildfire to Head Long,  then WikiWiki and  Vamanos.

"They're rounding the far  turn, and into the stretch.  It's Speedy now by a length, but  they're coming to get him.  And down the stretch they come.  They're five wide.  It's Speedy by a nose, on the rail it's Pronto, Zippy, and Flat Out...and on the outside, from far back here comes...Who is this? It's...it's   Unresponsive?  He's out in the middle of the track.  Unresponsive?  60 to one shot."

Yes," says Newport. "That's him. Go, Unresponsive.  Go, go. go."

He's got the speed," says Hampton.  "Keep going Unresponsive.  Keep going."

"...He's fourth, now third, passing Pronto.   It's Speedy striding in the lane, but not for long...It's  Unresponsive'  Now by a length, they'll not catch him today, now by five length, Unresponsive. This is unbelievable.  Unresponsive, from last to first.  No longer a maiden, Unresponsive wins it, by eight lengths, going away.  Holy Cow.  Chop-Chop a distant second, and Speedy noses out WikiWiki a fast closing fourth.  Incredible.  What a pedigree.  He's a grandson of, believe it or not, the great Sluggish."

"We win," says Ginger.  "We win."

Hampton and Newport high five.

 Pepper ad Ginger jump and wave their winning tickets.

"$100 to show,"  says Newport.  "I got them each a ticket.  First time either has ever been to a real race track.  Two girls from Vegas, they're really excited.  They're always fun to have along."

Hampton looks at his SmartPhone. Again it vibrates.

"Already, I'm getting calls wanting to buy Unresponsive.  Four already and we haven't even been to the winners circle.  I know Bob will want to buy him.  I'm waiting 'til he gets back."

The ladies jump and giggle, and giggle some more.
 
"Come on Ladies." says Newport.  "We gotta get our pictures taken in the winners circle.  This is great."

"What do we win." says Pepper.   She stares at her ticket.

"60 to one." says Hampton.

She looks at Newport, then at Ginger.

"Ladies," says Newport.  "You're both rich."

Both ladies jump and giggle, and giggle some more.

"But, I don't know if I want to sell him now," says Hampton."  The Santa Anita Derby is next Saturday. This is really exciting.  A $10,000 claimer.  Who knew?"
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Help comes from:
Kentucky.com/2012/03/30/2131833/baffert-out-of-hospital-
sports.yahoo.com/news/trainer-bob-baffert-heart-attack
miamiherald.com/...field-of-10-expected-for-santa
bloodhorse.com/horse-racing/baffert-released-from-dubai-hospital
Wikipedia/Bob Baffert,  Readabilityformulas.com
and check my post,  'A Visit With A $10,000 Claimer, www.StiffLeftJab.com

SLOTS AT SANTA ANITA

While I sit at my computer, doping entries in the Daily Racing Form, I have a brainstorm.  It's certainly unexpected.  So good, our Governor should be made aware.  A dynamic way to make the State money. I'm excited about  this.  

A few minutes, write a letter, and have it lost in some interns cubicle?  No way.  Better to take the  direct approach.  Face to Face, but ten hours to drive to Sacramento?  Gas is expensive.

No other solution.  I log on. Getting the governor's phone number could be tricky.  I find a website, www.WikiPoliticsGovBrownPersonalPhone.com.  I thumb my SmartPhone.  It rings.

"Huh...ah...Yes, Hello?"

"Hello?  Like to talk with the Governor, Jerry Brown.  I got this great idea.  He should hear this."

"This is the Governor."

"Governor Brown?" I say.  "No way.  I got through?  Wholly smoke.  This is awesome."

"Haven't got all day, sir. And how did you get my cell, anyway? "  His voice rises.  "Modesto, we gotta get a new cell number, one of those burner phones.  Got everybody calling me."

"Only take a minute, Governor.  I can call you Governor, right?"

"What?  I haven't got time for this. But, please call me Your Honorable Governor.   I was doing my campaign fund raising.  I have to drum up $20 grand a day, every day,  so I can buy all those TV spots.   Hey, being Governor's not as easy as it looks, you know."

"So, here it is," I say.  "Add slot machines to all the state's horse racing venues, like they did back East.  West Virginia Racing survived by the addition of slots."

"I'm speaking with?   You did vote for me last election, right?"

"This is Belair, Brentwood Belair.  Sports writer.  And I voted..."

"Hey, I know you," he says.  "I've read your stuff.  Boy, you were sure out in left field.  49ers winning the Super Bowl?  It was close against the Giants, but having Terrell Owens catching the final pass?  Where'd you come up with that?"

"Okay, I can't be spot on every time."

"Okay, so about Horse Racing.  We know all about it, but we can't.  Racinos.  Granted, they make a lot of money back East.   Tracks going into bankruptcy, install slots, and they recover in less than a year."

"That's right." I say,  "Same track, slots bring in $100 million annually, horses  net maybe $5 million.  Quite a difference.  I've checked it out.   Look at all that extra money for education, like your father with his  Junior College System."

"Seems the perfect solution," says the Governor.  "But perfect doesn't always follow reality. It's like trickle-down economics. Great in theory, poor in execution."

"I hear you, your Honorable..."

"We realize that our Native American citizens would rather have slot customers coming through their doors, rather than going to the track.  They of course let us know their appreciation around election time, with their contributions.   Just part of doing business in 21 Century America.  You can understand that?" 

"But of course, Your Honorable..."

"And,  those horse racing owner types, tend to vote republican.  So, the question is:   Are we rewarding rich race horse owners by propping up a slowly dying sport?"

"Well, you could say..."

"Okay, good," he says. "So, here's how it works.  Adding slots to the race tracks like Santa Anita, Del Mar, Hollywood Park, would certainly bring additional money to the horse racing community.  This allows the smaller tracks to increase their purses, thereby drawing better horses.  Larger tracks say, hey, we're not looking for that kind of competition."

"Makes sense, but..." I say.

"Now, we have a Pact with the Indian Nations here in California, all 61 of them.  To control the explosion of slots on Reservation, we have limits.  Our deal with them, no slots at race tracks, and they  don't have to release information on their slot machine payback percentages.  That's the trade off."

"Makes sense, but..." I say.

"So, like I was saying before, I was working my contributor list.  It never ends.  So when I get a few bucks coming in from my loyal friends in Las Vegas, I like to make them happy.  Hold down the total number of slots in California, and no table games anywhere, except maybe poker.  They're good with that."

"Makes sense, but..."

"Now if you will, good Idea, but we've studied  that revenue stream.  Thanks,  Mr. Belair for your civic concern.  If in the future you have any other ideas, please don't hesitate to put it in writing, and mail it to me here in Sacramento. We'll  get you a full report."

"Well, your Honorable..." I say.

"Thanks, Mr. Belair."   He shouts, "Modesto, you got that new cell? I can't be taking calls from every..." and the phone goes dead.

Hey, the Governor reads my column.  How cool is that?  Okay, lunch time. I have to tell somebody.
-----------------------------------
help comes from:
worldcasinodirectory.com/new-york
Google/Images, Wikipedia/Racinos,
drf.com/news/beyer-slots-racing-marriage-rocks
southerngaming.com/?tag=racinos

A VISIT WITH A $10,000 CLAIMER

"So, follow us ladies," says Hampton.  "We're going to the stables.  See the horse we claimed.  Unresponsive."

"That name," says Newport.  "Something we have to eventually change.  Ladies, you'll be up close to a real race horse."

"Believe it or not we didn't have enough money to buy the Washington Redskins, so instead we got involved in the Sport of Kings.  We bought us a $10,000 claimer.  I'm excited."

"Horse stables?" says Ginger. 

"We're walking all the way, over there." asks Pepper.  She looks down at the short man next to her.

He puts out his hand.  "I'm Rank. That's what they called me when I was a trainer, and it had nothing to do with my odor." 

He laughs.

"Rank.  It means very difficult to deal with. I'd take some pretty fractious horses, horses that just didn't obey, and I made them winners.  So the name just stuck."

The five walk past the track, beyond the far stretch, to where they stable the horses.

"So we're having breakfast," says Ginger.  "We're relaxing, and you call us.  We're going to Santa Anita.  Want to go?  What are we going to say?  Of Course.  Fly over, box seats, maybe lobster lunch, make a bet or two, watch your horse run, then fly back."

"We thought you ladies would like to go." says Hampton.  "Maybe we won't call next time.  We really like you two, but you and Pepper aren't the only two escorts in Vegas, you know."

She clutches Hampton's arm.  "Hampton, don't be like that, come on.  I'm just saying, didn't expect this, spending time in the stables. This is kind of a walk."

Sweat forms on Pepper's forehead.  Ginger wraps her sweater around her waist. Over dirt and gravel, and ten minutes, they reach the stable area.

"This is it," says Rank. "There's probably 2,000 horses in here.  We'll find Unresponsive right over here.  Come on."

Pepper looks down at her high heels, and lifts her leg.  "Is this mud, or OhMyGod..no...nooooo..."

She looks at Ginger, and then at the other three.

"Part of owning a horse," says Hampton. "You're going to get some horse poop.  Comes with the territory, my dear."

Rank smiles toward Pepper.  "Ma'am. We have boots you can change into. Wait right here,  I'll get two pair."  He jogs off.

Pepper looks at Ginger.  "Something. Anything. This isn't funny.  These are $250 shoes. Ruined.  This isn't happening."

Horses from all through the stable turn and look at the two ladies.  Pepper hops on one foot, while she dangles her gunky shoe from her finger.

"Wasps,"  says Ginger, and jumps back. She waves her hand violently in the air.  "Wasps, don't sting me, don't sting me. Please."

Rank jogs around the corner, holding four well used boots.  "They're okay," he says.  "They're supposed to be here. They feed on fly larva. It's a natural way to get rid of flies."

"You're kidding?" says Ginger.  Her body stiffens. "Wasps instead of flies, brilliant." 

"Don't worry.  They don't sting. It's better than spraying tons of pesticide, or fly traps or putting up Sticky Strips.  With them the flies just keep coming back."  He smiles.  "He's right up here, everybody."  He points.

They get to the stall.  A horse watches them arrive. His name plate: Unresponsive.

"Hi, Unresponsive." says Rank. "Are you ready to meet your new owners?"

"Who named you, my friend," says Newport.  "Somebody with a sense of humor. You look fast to me."  

"But, yeah," says Hampton. "We need a new name.  You're a thoroughbred, so I'm thinking..."  

He touches the nose of Unresponsive. "Something like, Swifty, or Immediate, or maybe FastAndLoose?"  He rubs the horse's nose.

Pepper jerks back. "Boy, it really smells in there. So gross.  How about Stench, or GodAwfulSmell.  You got any kind to spray for this?"   She makes a gagging sound and holds her nose. 

"Stinky," says Ginger. "Hey, Stinky."

Unresponsive blinks and stares at Ginger.

"You two have to get into the spirit of this." says Hampton.  "This is all part of being a horse owner.  All you've seen are pictures of horses in the winner's circle.  Can't have it both ways ladies."

"How about Momentum?" says Newport. "That's a good name."

A horse in a close stall whinnies.

The girls jump back, then duck down.  "No way," says Ginger. "I got to get out of here. It smells so bad, and all these tiny knatty thing buzzing around, and these boots?  Hampton, sweetheart,  I can't be seen in these."

"And they hurt my feet," says Pepper.  "Can we just go back to the Box Seats, or somewhere.  No offense horse, but I can't be in here much more."

Unresponsive whinnies and nudges Pepper hard in the back.  She pitches forward, and falls onto the muddy/strawy/poopy ground.  "Son of a bi..."

She stares up at Unresponsive. Their eyes meet. Unresponsive whinnies again and paws his straw.

"I hate you, horse," says Pepper.  Her breath is heavy.  

"Time to go," says Newport.  "Unresponsive, you're running in the Eighth race today. Rest up, my friend. Remember, we can easily put you in another claiming race,"  He helps up Pepper.  "He must just be off his feed."

"I like this horse," says Hampton. He laughs, and pats Unresponsive on the nose. "You keep your name.  Supposed to be bad luck to change it anyway."  He looks at the two ladies and laughs again.  "But it's time..."

Ginger and Pepper hold onto each other, and trudge toward the open end of the stables.  Pepper hobbles in those large boots, while Ginger waves at the tiny wasps in her face.  Both lurch forward toward the fresh air.  Newport helps, his arms around both of their waists.

Hampton turns to Rank.  "I like this horse. How good is he really."

"Bet him to show, you'll have more fun with him. He's not a bad horse at all.  And don't change the name.  With a name like Unresponsive he'll have some very good odds. Who wants to bet on a horse named Unresponsive." 

Hampton shakes Rank's hand, then turns and waves to the horse.

Unresponsive bows his head, whinnies, and paws the straw.

Other horses watch the fraidy-cat humans leave their stables. They whinnie loudly, look at each other, and shake their heads.



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Help comes from:
http://arcadia.patch.com/articles/
StiffLeftJab.com/Let's Buy the Redskins/Jan2012
Google/Images, Wikipedia/Santa Anita
http://www.arbico-organics.com/category/fly-control-program
http://www.readabilityformulas.com