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I hope I don't die if he loses.
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A really bad sign, just minutes from post time, the talking heads are almost all picking California Chrome. I am much consoled that this includes Laffit Pincay, who's being downright cocky about it....
Basically. Today. I don't give a shit who else is in the race. I want California Chrome. Period. Anybody beats him and I automatically hate him/her and that's flat. I have no inclination to be a good sport about something everybody in California racing has been wanting for... for... forever.
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I am really worried. The #1 horse, Dynamic Impact, has the floaty grace going toward the starting gate. I think I may have picked him if this were me coming in blind. California Chrome doesn't look loser, but, shit... I hate this....
Any minute now, my agony of suspense will be over....
Ugh.
I know a bunch of people twenty and thirty years older than me who I am worried are not going to live through it... because I don't feel like I'm going to live through it.
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OMFG
What a race! I am a wreck of adrenaline crackles. I have to blame the camera angles for scaring me with Dynamic Impact... but... actually... Dynamic Impact had a darn bad trip. It was as though there were about three jockeys determined to ruin that one trip. Thank goodness nobody got hurt.
And CALIFORNIA CHROOOOOOOOOOOME... commandingly!
I don't think we get to see the Belmont online. I may have to go to the local bar and threaten them with something if they don't turn on that race for me. It will be good. I will need the booze.
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His bloodlines are actually not that humble... just a couple of dud mares in the dam line, but they had some solid breeding. The real royalty is, of course, farther back down the line, but people used to pay decent money for yearlings out of barely raced or unraced mares with good ancestry. And this is why. They just don't anymore. Maybe more people will try now... but... probably not.
See, the deal is: In the sales catalogues, the dams need black type, bold face, which means stakes winner, and there are a bunch of nuances to it, but, basically, the more money the dam made on the track, especially in the higher graded stakes, the more the offspring will sell for, despite bloodlines. Snazzy ancestors count for oodles and oodles, but that black type is a huge must have, and California Chrome's momma lasted for a big six starts. Nowhere near even an allowance race, let alone a stakes race. Basic, entry level, fair circuit unimpressiveness. One win. No places. $7,020 in cold hard maiden claimer cash. Pathetic... in the eyes of yearling buyers anyway... most of them. No black type there. And not for her dam either. So this will be why Dumb Ass Partners was formed for sure... but... dammit, even if it hadn't've panned out, it wasn't dumb at all. There's definitely some darn fine racehorses all over his pedigree. Just click on some of those names.
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I almost forgot. Four white socks is considered to be a good omen. A nice wide blaze is considered to be a good omen. A chestnut with four white socks and a wide blaze was considered by all teen girls to be the catch of catches, horse-wise. That maniac hunk of perfection nobody else could ride, Charlie, whose show name was Devil's Disciple, was a chestnut with four white socks and a wide blaze. He dumped every single other person who got on him, so Bitsy let me ride him until she sold him, but, damn, that was pure heaven. I could almost think him into his gaits. They judge you on that. If they can see your aids, they mark you down for that. Darn hard to find a horse who will cooperate with you there, though. With Charlie, if he let you stay on him, just the barest electrical signal to one strand of muscle tissue and it was done. Bliss. Pure bliss.
