by Bob Carson

Editor’s Note: The USTA website is pleased to present freelance writer Bob Carson and his popular “Outside the Box” features. This monthly series is a menu of outlandish proposals presented with a wink — but the purpose behind them is serious. The views contained in this column are that of the author alone, and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of the United States Trotting Association.

Bob Carson

Being the center of attention without doing something stupid is thrilling. For me, it’s less frequent than a winning Pick-4 ticket, but it happened last night. I was mingling with strangers in the lounge of the Berkshire Hills Country Club. We were killing time until they opened the oak doors to the main room for the wedding reception for my cousin, Randy, and his new wife, Brandi.

The flat-screen television above the bar was tuned to horse racing. The horses were Thoroughbreds, not my beloved harness horses. The races were either Breeders Crown or the Breeders’ Cup (does anyone ever get those two straight). Anyway, it quickly became obvious that I was the only person in the room with a grasp on the world of equine wagering.

For a few fleeting minutes, I was the “Go to Guy.” I would soon revert to being the “Go away from Guy,” but it was a nice little ride while it lasted. A half-dozen people began to pepper me with questions, mostly mathematical. I have only balanced my checkbook four times since the Clinton administration, but compared to these non-gambling wedding guests I was MENSA material.

How hard can it be to understand what a 9-2 shot is?

The answer is — harder than you might think. Trying to explain pari-mutuel odds and an exacta box part wheel to this group was like trying to teach your poodle quantum physics. I spoke slowly and even jotted numbers down on napkins. It didn’t help. One woman could not fathom that a show bet meant the horse could finish first, second or third. The fluctuating odds on the races flummoxed these potential fans.

Autumn Ryan graphic

When one guest asked me what 8-5 meant, my explanation was met with blank stares. Suddenly, the evening turned ugly.

A short guy with Leo printed on his name tag huffed, “This is stupid.”

Leo was one of those short, bald, muscular guys with a smooth head that he kept tanned and oiled.

“Stupid?” I replied wittily.

“Yeah, watch this.”

Leo turned and poked a finger into the chest of an unsuspecting guest, a tall guy with Buddy Holly glasses who was wearing a black sports coat over a black tee-shirt.

“Give me ten dollars.”

Obviously terrified at suddenly being the foil in an emerging duel, the black tee-shirt quickly fished a ten spot out of his pants pocket and handed it to Leo.

Leo pointed to the flat screen where the horses were parading and barked, “Pick a horse.”

The tee-shirt said, “Um, um….Irish Balderdash, number four.”

Leo nodded his shiny pate, “Okay, here’s my ten.” He waved the bill like it was wet and he was trying to dry it.

“I’ll take horse number nine. I don’t need to know the name. Whichever horse finishes ahead gets all the money.”

With an overly dramatic splat, he slapped the money on the bar.

I had enough of Leo stepping into my spotlight.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on, that’s not how pari-mutuel wagering works, you’re missing the nuances.”

I was somewhat dumbfounded to hear the word ‘nuances’ fall from my mouth, but I kept yapping.

“What about the odds? What about sportsmanship? What about the racetrack and the government getting their share?”

Leo was ready. “What about a little action with no stupidity?”

Having noted that the number nine horse and the number four horse in the upcoming race were prohibitive longshots, I decided to teach Leo a lesson. Horse number three was heavy chalk that had been touted for weeks. The three should win this race dragging a washing machine.

I pulled a ten out of my pocket and said, “What about I throw in ten dollars on horse number three?”

“Bring it,” Leo grinned and snatched up my money.

We sparred until post time. The race was off. The black tee shirt’s selection, Irish Balderdash, flew to the lead, the guy started screaming at the flat screen and jumping up and down so violently that his glasses slid down his nose. Irish Balderdash held on to win at 22-1. The tee-shirt guy was giddy at winning twenty bucks, oblivious to the fact that he would have collected a bundle for picking Irish Balderdash had he bet in the traditional manner.

My number three horse ran a distant third. Leo didn’t collect, his horse finished way back, but he kept firing.

“See, simple. No take-out, no government, no strain, just horses running around and some action, and…

Someone in the crowd interrupted, “Hey, it’s time for the kick off.”

The TV was switched to a football game (where everyone claimed to be an expert) and I was off-staged.

I headed to a lawn chair on the veranda to sulk.

In less than ten minutes, I lost my audience, ten bucks and some dignity — a trifecta of gloom. I pondered why we make things so complicated for these newbies and wondered how we could make things easier. It only took two Singapore Slings to discover a solution for eliminating wagering complexity for people that are new to harness racing.

We scrap the tote board.

I know. I know. It has been a fixture since the Pleistocene era, but we don’t need it. We replace the old board with a simple digital display of “will pays” based on increments of ten dollars. We scrap the two dollar thing — what’s with two dollars? Two has always been a little goofy and these days two dollars won’t get you a hot chocolate latte at Starbucks. We also lose the pennies, dimes and quarters — they are a nuisance and always fall on the floor when you rest your feet on the seat in front of you.

A ten dollar increment wager will simply list how much you get back if your horse wins. Even these football freaks could understand a concept like — “If you bet ten dollars on horse number three and it wins, you will get back ninety dollars.”

Excuse me; I need to get another drink.

Yeah, I’m still a tad miffed that they lost interest in me and horse racing and switched the channel, without asking me or even taking a vote.

Now, where were we? Oh yeah…making things simple for clowns who prefer football to horse racing. I suggest that we make it easy on them but we, the real horse players, keep the edge. We could have two tiers of wagering — simple stuff for them — and we keep the stuff we understand and have mastered. Like part-wheel Pick-5 for fifty cents with a single and a rolling take-out and…and…I’ll finish this tomorrow.

Call me a cab.