where the turf meets the surf

There is a certain primal poetry in the way majestic horses run...an explosive, expressive ballet in the way they race egged on by the small athletes perched precariously on their powerful backs.  I felt that poetry and experienced that ballet this afternoon during a day at the racetrack. 

Del Mar..."where the turf meets the surf"...opened its season last Wednesday and we (my friend Miguel, a handicapper who peruses the racing forms studiously, and I, who chooses horses to bet on based on their names or their jockeys) enjoyed a cool summer's Sunday enjoying the "sport of kings".  A pastime shared...in decades long gone...by Bing Crosby and Jimmy Durante and J. Edgar Hoover and countless others counted amongst the rich, the famous, the infamous.

The July 3rd installment of Bread and Roses recounted by last visit to this facility...the fairgrounds then a-bustle with activity during the annual Fair.  This time the midway and fast food stands were gone, replaced by vendors hawking racing forms, beverages, peanuts, and popcorn.  The transformation is both complete and barely noticeable at once...the grounds are ever welcoming whatever diversion we've come to enjoy.

I placed bets on 7 races...2 wins, 1 place, 1 show, an overall profit of $33.60.  There are worse ways to wile away a few hours.

The racetrack is a wonderful place to watch people.  Most people go just to have fun...to chat and try to guess which horse will run fastest...to enjoy the shared electricity of the races, shouting and cheering during the few dozen scant seconds that the mighty creatures speed around the grand old track.  A few seem almost haunted...as if the results of the third race will determine whether or not they'll be able to pay the rent this month.  And when the horses are dashing for the finish line, we're all one...sharing the thrill of the spectacle and happily getting lost in that unabashed sharing.

It's a lovely thing.