MONMOUTH PARK– It was one of those lost August days and if I had only just taken the time to keep score of what was transpiring around me at Southern New Jersey’s version of Belmont Racetrack, I should have kept the money in my pocket untouched. It was a warm day with no breeze and a sun beating down on the spectators enough to leave sweat stains around necks, arm pits, and man-boobs. And when did it become fashionable for teenage girls to run around with their ass cheeks hanging out of their Daisy Dukes? Where was this back in the ’80’s, I ask?
Thank goodness for the cold beer in the cooler, which goes un-inspected at this track. Amazing at the amount of glass bottles in and around the picnic areas. I mean isn’t somebody in the jockey’s union afraid of angry bettors tossing empties at unimpressive mounts aboard a horse they had in the exacta?
Back to the scenery as I like to people watch and gaze at their choice of sports team apparel. Props to a teenager among his cohorts donning a Montreal Expos cap. The kid definitely wasn’t around for the last season of Omar Minaya’s now defunct old team. There was a UFO, an Unidentified Fat Object, squeezing into a size-too-small #11 Dallas Cowboys road uniform. I just shook my head in disbelief. Does Cole Beasley have family in this area? Cole Beasley, I tell ya. I do give this gal credit for “going off the board” in her choice, though.
And then there was the piece de la resistance: a clueless zipper-head in a light green t-shirt with Polk High on the front with the #33 and the name Bundy on the back. No, not Ted or King Kong Bundy but a clear reference to Al Bundy of Married With Children fame. If it didn’t look like this guy came out of Revenge of the Nerds, I probably would have said something to this out of place character.
The only solace among losing parimutuel tickets came in the form of a fellow Boston Bruins fan among the group uninspiringly called The Group. Yeah, there was talk about that championship season in 2011 and names of yore: Orr, Esposito, Bourque and Neely. That and the ice in the cooler refreshed the day for me like nothing else. There also was mention of Gord Kluzak being a big-time investment trader, to which I said it’s nice to know he did something with the money he stole from the Bruins during his oft-injured career.
I gambled away 45 bucks on nothing more than some nags and a few horses whose names are familiar in my inner circle: My Bro Paul disappointed and in a race simulcast from Saratoga, Rich’n Tuck hasn’t reached the finish line yet. No horses were harmed or euthanized during the seven races we stayed. A bad day sweating my balls off at the track beats a day doing nothing other than sitting with my thumbs up my ass.