The Sport of Kings (and hobos)

Sitting at Arlington Park yesterday, I realized that part of the appeal of horse racing is the timelessness of it all. As far as I know, not much has changed, in terms of spectator experience in the sport. An afternoon spent at the racetrack in 2008 probably wouldn't be all that unlike an afternoon spent at the racetrack thirty or forty years ago. Sure, now you can use a computer to place bets with next month's rent money, but you still lose the money, because you still bet on horses based entirely on which ones have the best names*. Sure, there's a big jumbotron in the infield showing live footage of the races and of the paddock between the races, but by in large, the experience probably isn't too much different than it was for my great-uncle Hank "Lefty" Myers.

Young Henry Myers grew up during the Great Depression, and unfortunately lost his entire left arm in a horrific (and quite messy) incident, breaking up a hobo fight in the rail yards of Port Allegany, PA. The details were never really all that clear, but the suspicion is that at some point in the tussle, part of his arm ended up in the filthy mouth of Burton "Filthy Mouth" Bidwell. The infection caused by the bacteria in Filthy Mouth Bidwell's mouth would have posed no threat with modern medicine, but due to a lack of money and running water, Lefty was forced to bathe in Combs Creek, which only served to intensify the infection and Lefty was forced to amputate his own left arm in 1936(luckily he was right handed, or it could have been a real mess).

Lefty was a resourceful young man, and after some years hustling people in pool halls (who would suspect a one-armed pool shark), he met my great-aunt Margaret, who convinced him to give up such a dangerous and underhanded lifestyle. Margaret's family owned a stable, and Lefty immediately took a liking to the family's prized filly, Sound Investment.

Lefty had a unorthodox training style in that he couldn't whip the horse, because he had to use his one hand to hold the reigns. After some training, Lefty entered Sound Investment into some small stakes races at Niagara Falls, and after enjoying some success in the lower class races, Sound investment won her first entry into a qualifying race for the 1941 Belmont Stakes.

The Belmont held more importance than usual in 1941, because Whirlaway, a four year-old stallion had already won the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness that year, and would be going for the prized and ever-so-rare Triple Crown of Horse Racing. To make things worse, Sound Investment's jockey had been drafted, and Lefty was forced to use a replacement, Billy Stanhope, on very short notice.

Billy came from a long line of Jockey - a diminutive family of moderate fame given the popularity of horse racing in those days. For brevity's sake, suffice it to say, Billy and Lefty did not see eye to eye on the no-whipping policy, but Lefty was forced to use Billy in the race. He would have ridden Sound Investment himself, but he was too big.

Sure enough, Sound Investment was leading the Belmont Stakes from the wire to the home stretch, but for some reason, Billy Stanhope started whipping her, and she freaked out. Spooked by the whipping, she bucked and threw Billy to the dirt. Whirlaway made it around Sound Investment, and the now airborne Billy, but Four Left Feet, the next horse, trying to avoid running over Billy after he had landed ran into Sound Investment and broke her leg. She had to be shot on the track, and Lefty killed Billy in the Jockey's locker room after the race. Rumor has it he missed twice because of Billy's small stature, but the third shot caught Billy in his miniature heart, and he was dead before the authorities could arrive.

Uncle Lefty spent the rest of his days in prison and in relative obscurity. I never got to meet him, but I've heard plenty of stories about him from my grandfather, and from what I know, he would have been proud of the $0.40 I won yesterday in the fifth race on a $2.00 bet. I know he's up in heaven with Sound Investment, smiling down on me, and laughing at Billy Stanhope, who is seated far below us, either weeping or gnashing teeth as we speak.

*Ohbeegeewhyen and Your Worst Night 'mare', you cost me an $18 exacta bet in the fourth race yesterday. Enjoy your trips to the glue factory.