Valentine's Day Derby Half-Dozen for the Average Goof by Guest Blogger James McManus

As a kid, we used to wait until St Paddy's Day to start discussing our Derby rankings.  But I am a married man of 13 wonderful years and when my wife tells me that all she wants for Valentine's Day is my Derby Half Dozen, I aims to please.  So open this box of chocolates carefully and don't blame me if you get the one with the coconut.  It tastes even sweeter because Derby tickets and accommodations were just procured last week and my mind is already in Louisville.  Pity that my body is still in NYC, but my mind and body have a long history of spending quality time apart.

So let's get this kicked off with a Valentine's Day Derby Half-Dozen for the Average Goof.

1)  Creative Cause  -  If you've been to the track with me, you will know that I am a sucker for Giant's Causeway colts.  We will know more after the San Vicente, but I was oh so pleased with his 2 year old campaign.  I was one of those who thought his BC Juvenile 3rd was a good thing.  I like my Derby horse peaking in his 3 year old year.  Excited to see him run this weekend.

2)  El Padrino  -  Let's just get it out of the way, Pletcher is loaded again this year.  Loaded.  And I think this is the best one in his barn.  Pulpit Colt, dam sired by Giant's Causeway...hard not to like.  And I get the sense he has the most bottom of all the Pletcher colts.  Impeccable breeding will make him a huge factor on the Derby trail.  As a side note, if folks are highly impressed with Algorithm beating Hansen, wait til Take Charge Indy, who El Padrino ran right by, runs in his next race.  He might make that January 29 Allowance win look better and better.

3)  Union Rags -  Matz has a big horse and a great chance this spring.  So glad to see the Fountain of Youth will see Union Rags meet Algorithm.  Avoiding other good horses in prep races seems to be the strategy of most trainers, so kudos to Matz and Pletcher.  Union Rags is a big, impressive and super athletic horse.  I was not as impressed with his BC Juvenile as some but this horse could easily be number one of any list.  I am NOT worried about workouts in February and expect to see a big spring from this horse.

4)  Sabercat  -  I thought long and hard about how I could rank this horse higher than Algorithm right now with his speed figures not near that of Algorithm.  Turn of foot, turn of foot, turn of foot that launches him into a big kick.  That is what I would give my Derby horse if I could build one.  We shall see what he has in the San Felipe.  I think he has a lot.

5)  Algorithm  -  What is not to like about this Bernardini colt?  He put Hansen away easily, something Union Rags could not do, and has the pedigree to go the distance.  There is something about his running style that looks more like a 12, 12, 12 horse that could work very well in the Belmont but I just haven't yet seen the turn of foot of the horses I ranked above him to think he can beat them in Louisville.  Lots of time to change my mind.

6)  Alpha  -  Kieran Mclaughlin is not prepping this horse how I like to see a 3 year old build bottom.  I would like to see him and Hansen go at each other.  What I do like about Alpha is his high cruising speed.  And the fact that I think he can get a lot better and he grows into that frame of his.  Would have liked to see him in the gate a little longer last race as this horse seems to not oike being manhandled by the starters, which could be trouble in a 20 horse field at Churchill.  Lots of upside and his breeding says he can run forever.  He will be fun to watch.

If you check under the candy wrappers, you will see a Maiden Special Weight from this past weekend that featured an unbelievable stretch run by Street Life, Street Sense's boy.  When he changed leads, he was a blur in the stretch.  Not sure the quality of his rivals, but any horse in February that makes you say, "Did he just do that?" ...let's keep him on our radar.

Running Man?

I've always hated running.  I've hated all kinds of exercise, really.  If exercise was a byproduct of athletic activity, then I suppose I accepted it, albeit begrudgingly.  Did I choose to play goalkeeper for my high school soccer team because it involves the least amount of running?  Maybe.  I was still forced to run two miles on the first day of practice every year and every year I finished last.  I didn't care.  I just wanted the agony to end.  And so, here I sit, 35 years old and out of shape.  Out of shape is really a somewhat nice way of saying overweight, which is also a nice way of saying fat.  On a really good day, with the sunlight glistening off the pond and leprechauns sliding down rainbows, I'm 5 feet, 10 inches tall.  The ideal, healthy weight for this height is 156 pounds, with a range of 139-173 pounds, according to something called the Hamwi formula, which I'm too fat to understand.  My current weight is 228 pounds.  This means that my Body Mass Index is 32.7.  Anything over 30 is considered obese. Something must be done. 
These aren't recent facts, either.  In the past two years, I've gone from a size 36 waist to a size 38, but I had been a size 36 for probably 10 years before that.  I often rationalize that I don't think I look terribly fat, and that I have tons of naturally sculpted muscle, which weighs WAY more than fat.  And I'm big boned.  Hugely and incalculably boned.  So, why now?  Why not maintain the status quo, sinking into middle age like so many before me?  It's not vanity.   I don't really care what anyone else thinks of my body; that's one of the perks of being married, right?  I'd like to say that I am deeply concerned for my health and that I am shaping up so that I can be around a long time to see my daughter grow up and see her children grow up, but that's probably more foresighted than I'm capable of.  More than anything else, I'm just annoyed.  I'm annoyed that the corners I used to turn with such grace and guile now clip a piece of my hip.  I'm annoyed that I'm out of breath when I climb a flight of stairs.  But, most of all, I'm annoyed that the Banana Republic in my neighborhood doesn't have my size pants because, along with that 38 inch waist, I am also blessed with a 30 in the length department.  I gave up on getting taller long ago.  All I have control over is getting skinnier.
In my typically vague way, I have pledged in the past to do something about it.  I tried dieting, which consisted of tuna salad sandwiches for lunch instead of roast beef and cheese, and keeping less beer in the house.  I don't think that really counts as a diet.  That didn't work, so I tried an equally vague form of exercise, inevitably dumping hundreds of dollars on gyms I never go to.  I joined the Y because of its swimming pool and basketball court, thinking I would enjoy exercise more if it were disguised as sport.  I was wrong.  Swimming was exhausting and shooting jumpers ain't exercise, even if I did have to chase my airballs all over the gym.  Last year, I was so inspired by the New York City marathon that I spent half a day calculating the training distances between my place and my friends' places, fantasizing of the 15 mile jaunt to Long Island City and back and the 25 mile roundtripper to Washington Heights.  And then I did nothing.  Maybe I ran around the block once, if that.  But, this time is different.  This time, I have a plan.  It's called the Couch to 5K program, which was brought to my attention by my wife, who had heard about it from a friend.  The theory is this: people who are suddenly inspired to run, but have no idea what they're doing, often get frustrated and/or hurt and quit easily.  This program, which has an app that chimes in commands ("Start running") during your likely embarrassing running mix if you're into that kind of thing, is designed to gradually bring a couch potato up to speed, 3 days a week at around 30 minutes a pop, so that at the end of 8 weeks, you can run 5 kilometers (approximately 3 miles).  I've never run 3 miles at one in my life.  This would be huge.
My commitment to the Couch to 5K program is partly borne out of my epiphany that I love to eat more than I hate exercise and so, given the choice between diet and exercise, I choose exercise.  What's that you say?  I could choose both?  Sorry, you're breaking up.  I'll call you back.  I am currently in Week 2.  Week 1 regimen consisted of a 5 minute brisk warm up walk, followed by alternating shifts of 60 seconds of running and 90 seconds of walking, finally cooling down with another 5 minute walk.  Day One was awesome.  Definitely felt like I could do this.  Couldn't wait for Day Two, but I stuck to the program, skipping a day in between.  Day Two was a little harder.  Why?  Was I less enthusiastic about my plan?  Was the whole running thing too big an obstacle to overcome, both physically and mentally?  Day Three wasn't much fun, but I was also sick.  Still sick, I did a slightly abbreviated Day One of Week Two today.  5 minute walk, followed by intervals of 90 seconds of running and 2 minutes of walking, and the 5 minute cool-down walk.
My random goal before learning 10 minutes ago that I am technically obese was to get under 200 pounds.  Now, that is at least 25 pounds off target.  I need to stick with the program.  I need to lose weight.  I'm sure there are cardiovascular health benefits, as well.  I would like to learn to enjoy running, and the fact that it's only 30 minutes certainly helps.  Nothing seems like a bigger waste of time than two hours at a gym or a two hour run.  This way, I get up at 6:00 a.m., roll out the door around 6:15, and get home by 6:45 in order to pick my daughter out of her crib, who now either asks me "How was your run, Daddy?" or "How was your shower this morning?"  I tell her the run was fine and the shower was too hot and eventually I stop sweating around 10:30 a.m.  But, if I start enjoying running?  If I not only run 5K, but also enter 5K charity "races"?  If I become an athlete again?  Or athletic, at least?  If I lost 50 pounds?  I'd be a lot less annoyed, which I guess is a nice way of saying happy.

BREEDERS CUP PICKS for the AVERAGE GOOF by Guest Blogger James McManus

So let us recap this day.  Another great Friday at the Breeders Cup.  So good to see Bill Mott take another Distaff with the brilliant ROYAL DELTA.  Of the 6 races today, we had 2 winners, 2 second place finishers and a 5th and a 6th.  If you were smart you made enough money for dinner and drinks but it was not the killing it could have been.  Yes, I'm looking at you NAHRAIN.  How did you let a 27-1 shot run by you?  And STOPSHOPPINGMARIA was almost home, but the wire is the wire and a loss is a loss.  Any day spent winning enough money to cover drinks at the track and dinner in the evening is a good day.  If today was blended scotch, tomorrow is single malt so let's get straight to Saturday and my...

BREEDERS CUP PICKS for the AVERAGE GOOF
SATURDAY'S CARD WINNERS

There is a saying in Louisville at Derby time that no matter what the weather has been like all spring, on Derby Day it is always 75 and sunny.
I have walked the tunnel at Gate 3 that separates wheat from drunk on Derby Day and can assure you that no matter what the temperature is, the infield is always .18 and runny.  If you have not experienced the infield on Derby Day, imagine all of the grass you could ever want dotted with porta potties and mint juleps.  The infield is a town unto itself.  There is a general store for ice and other items that might keep you alive, general camaraderie which usually entails someone you have never met offering you a liquor that tastes vaguely like bourbon and a general sense that for one day of the year, anything goes.  Uncle Pat loved the infield and Uncle Pat loved Derby Day.  He looked at it as 80,000 average goofs losing money and feeling good about it.  I will save the Indian Charlie story for another time as I am trying to see if I can actually tell it 1 million times orally before I lay it down in print.  Suffice to say, Uncle Pat thought the average goof would be on Favorite Trick that Derby Day in 98 and the only thing that the Donora crew knew for sure was that Pat Day would give the Trick a bad ride and that one of Baffert's two studs would be there to pick up the pieces.  Trainer Bob Baffert had won the Derby the previous year with Silver Charm and was loaded in 98 with both Indian Charlie and Real Quiet.  It was a tough call between the two and our tent was split down the middle. Our tent was also littered with human wreckage that could not have distinguished a horse from a human due to the unending kindness of Kentucky strangers, but those of us standing, well leaning, laid our cookies on one of the two Baffert horses.  Real Quiet won the Derby and Indian Charlie finished 3rd setting off a series of events that have become Donora's version of The Scottish Play.  Uncle Pat had the winner, the triple, the super and maybe he slept with Elizabeth Taylor that night also...it was that good.  I bring this up because Indian Charlie's boy, Uncle Mo, runs today in the Classic at Churchill Downs on a autumn afternoon sent to us in a postcard and he is just the type of horse Uncle Pat loved.  His breeding is impeccable, his style is that of a front runner or stalker and he just won a race with a Beyer Speed Figure higher than the average IQ.  And...he has the same first name as Uncle Pat.  But there is one Mo angle that would give Uncle Pat some pause, he liked horses who had won at the distance they are running.  This will not only be Uncle Mo's first try at 10 furlongs, he has never won past 8 1/2F and that was last year before all of the health problems of this year.  And, he has never faced competition like he will today in the Classic. And Flat Out is 5 years old and seasoned.  And Havre de Grace is the best horse in America this year.  And So You Think gives Coolmore the burly beast of a chance to take down its first Classic.  And Stay Thirsty has won at this distance and cannot like it that all of the fillies line up for his stable mate.  And To Honor and Serve just won the PA Derby and Bill Mott would not run him here unless he had a shot.  And, and, and...  WWUPD? 

BREEDERS CUP PICKS for the AVERAGE GOOF
SATURDAY'S CARD WINNERS

MARATHON (14f) 1:20PM POST TIME
This race last year gave us a fist fight after the race between jockeys Cavin Borel and Javier Castellano.  Good to get the blood flowing.  This is a quirky distance as 14 furlongs is not a commonly run distance in horse racing.  As with 7 furlong races, I like horses who have won at this odd distance such as last year's winner ELDAAFER.  I love AP INDY colts and I see no reason why ELDAAFER cannot repeat.  And at 10-1 ML, the #10 ELDAAFER will be a lovely start to the day...almost like an ice cold Penn Pilsner/Penn Dark right on top of a hangover.

JUVENILE TURF (8f) 2:02PM POST TIME
Wide open race and unless you travel to Europe to watch the ponies, most Americans have not seen the majority of this field compete.  I like the Irish bred #12 LUCKY CHAPPY off of 2 wins across the pond and a 3rd place effort at Keeneland that was better than it looked.  I don't like the post but I'm hoping the pace is hot and LUCKY CHAPPY is there at the end.  This colt is also ML 10-1.  Open these oysters gently because I'm placing pearls in there.

SPRINT (6f) 2:37PM POST TIME
Other than the Classic, the sprint is always my favorite race of the day.  I like pure speed and at 6 furlongs, there is little strategy among these colts.  The gate opens and the jockeys turn them loose to see who is fastest.  Last year BIG DRAMA got the drop on his competitors at the gate and led them all the way around.  Could it happen again?  Sure it could.  But I don't like BIG DRAMA'S campaign this year.  Too much time off before what was really a workout at Calder in September.  I will take a horse who has been running and competing all year long.  Nick Zito did a marvelous training job with JACKSON BEND to turn him from a router into one of the best sprinters in the country this year.  Yes, he lost to UNCLE MO in the Kelso, but most horses would have and he got shuffled back early.  I saw JACKSON BEND run twice at Saratoga this year and though small in stature, this colt gives everything he has.  I think his best is good enough today.  Take #5 JACKSON BEND to win with AIKENITE closing late on him.

DIRT MILE (8f) 4:01PM POST TIME
What a field!  SHACKLEFORD won a little race called the Preakness.  THE FACTOR might be the most talented horse in Baffert's barn. (Hello 1 hole again at CD.  Did Baffert badmouth blue grass in another life?)  WILBURN has won 3 in a row.  CALEB'S POSSE won the King's Bishop over UNCLE MO and TRAPPE SHOT has turned in possibly the best performance of the year in the True North on Belmont Saturday.  And I don't throw IRREFUTABLE out.  I like the fact that TRAPPE SHOT can use the 9 hole to see how things are setting up and decide how far off the pace he wants to be.  This is probably SHACKLEFORD's best distance even though he won a triple crown race this year.  I see SHACKLEFORD on the lead with THE FACTOR and as SHACKLEFORD puts THE FACTOR away, TRAPPE SHOT and CALEB'S POSSE are gunning for him.  At the wire, by a desperate nose, I see the #9, TRAPPE SHOT getting up for the win.

TURF (12f) 4:45PM POST TIME
This race has been moved out of its traditional penultimate slot partly to give GOLDLIKOVA the spotlight she deserves and partly because the American horses, well, there just aren't any with a real shot in this race.  Where are you WINCHESTER? I guess this proves that the Bluegrass Stakes at Keeneland in 10 was more a prep for this race in 11 than a prep for the Derby in 10 as STATELY VICTOR and BRILLIANT SPEED both ran in the 10 Bluegrass Stakes.  I'm going to take a chance with the Irish bred #1 ST. NICHOLAS ABBEY for trainer Aidan O'Brien.  He is 5 for 10 lifetime and I like post 1 in such a long race.  I hope he skims the rail and can find a little space turning for home.

JUVENILE (8 1/2f) 5:25PM POST TIME
#10 UNION RAGS He looks like this year's UNCLE MO.  Watch his win the Grade 1 Champagne at Belmont.  That is what a great racehorse is supposed to look like.  Only, they almost never look like that in their 2 year old year.  #10 UNION RAGS.  Bet him, take what they give you and be happy just to watch him run.

MILE (8f) 6:07PM POST TIME
What can I add to everything that has already been said about GOLDLIKOVA?  I saw her accelerate right in front of me last year and she took my breath away.  Maybe even more impressive is that GIO PONTI ran a great race last year to finish second.  I don't know what else he could have done and he was still desperately beaten.  So you're going to bet her, Jimmy?  Nope.  So you're going for GIO PONTI?  As much as it pains me, I'm not going for either.  #3 COURAGEOUS CAT almost got GOLDLIKOVA in 09 and is in great form this year.  The CAT can sit chilly behind the blistering pace that SYDNEY'S CANDY will set and pounce quickly at the top of the stretch to hold off the two great horses, GIO PONTI and GOLDLIKOVA.  On a personal note, may I say that those may be real tears at the end of this race as GIO PONTI has given me so many thrills in person and all I can give back to him is to say that I have known I was in the presence of greatness every time I strained my neck to get a look at him.  If this is his last, Godspeed in the breeding shed, GIO PONTI, I cannot wait to see your colts and fillies run.

CLASSIC (10f) 7:30PM POST TIME
I am not abstaining on the big race, but I am warning you that I have nothing but my heart up my sleeve with this pick.  I know all of the arguments against him and I even agree with some of them.  HAVRE DE GRACE and FLAT OUT are monsters who have every right to repeat what they did in the Woodward and see if the extra furlong can get FLAT OUT there.  SO YOU THINK is seasoned and a proven winner.  GAME ON DUDE is tenacious with the lead.  And UNCLE MO had a liver ailment and 7 & 8 furlong races do not prepare a horse for this distance and blah blah blah.  Well, everyone and his reasons can all go to hell.  Because I saw this horse run at Saratoga as a 2 year old and on that day he became my horse and he is still my horse.  I like everything about him.  He is a big, good looking horse who you just cannot take your eyes off of.  And he likes the lead and he likes to flash his speed and he likes to break your heart by getting sick and not letting you know if he is ok.  And he likes to come back to the winner's circle after the Kelso at Belmont and look like he could go another mile and breathe as if he would not blow out a match as you look at a horse whose muscles seem to have muscles.  And I will be watching him accelerate tomorrow and I think he's going to win.  My pick in the 2011 Classic at Churchill Downs is the #12, UNCLE MO because I believe that the blood of INDIAN CHARLIE always deserved to pass under the finish line at Churchill Downs as a winner and I believe that part of being Irish is knowing the world is going to break your heart if you put it out there, but what else is a heart for?  And I believe that UNCLE MO is the best horse in this race.  Take your average goof and he allows his heart to get in the way of his head.  To that, Uncle Pat, I say SUNDAY SILENCE.  GO MO GO!

-James McManus

Horse Race Betting Lineage and Breeders Cup Picks by Guest Blogger James McManus

The DoublePlay Sports Blog is back! After a mysterious hiatus, we have a whole series in the works starting next week, but in the meantime, take in the delightful stylings of guest blogger James McManus, who led me Virgil-like into the depths of the 136th running of the Kentucky Derby, chronicled extensively starting here. Without further ado...

I spent a lot of time as a boy at the Friendly Tavern in Donora watching the horse races on TV. Two truisms were uttered each year as the Belmont Stakes (always run a week or two before Father's Day) played above us.
"Father's Day in this town is going to be a clusterf**k."
"If you're going to lose a route race, do it with a closer who comes late."
One was said because young colts like to make nice nice with fillies and leave the matter of staying power in doubt. The other had to do with handicapping horse races. I knew who my folks were, so I concentrated on the races. A route race is one where the horses travel around more than one turn into the stretch. My Uncle Patrick always thought that as with most things in life, the crowd had it wrong. "Take your average goof lays brick for a living" was how many of his theories on life began. Take your average goof and he'll pay some jackass to tar his roof when all you need is tar and a chicken ladder. Take your average goof who thinks his wife is faithful and I'll be over his place while he's spouting off. Take your average goof who votes an actor into the White House and wonders how he lies so good. But Uncle Patrick saved a special litany of take your average goof for those who thought they could pick the horses better than he could.

He would pick me up from school on his way down to Waterford and for the one hour ride, he filled me with Take your average goofs about how not to pick the horses.
Take your average goof...
he bets on jockeys, the horse don't ride the jockey, Jimmy.
he loves him a good closer. Closers are lazy horses who run past tired ones who tried hard.
he thinks time is important, but any crazy jockey can throw the time of a race out of whack.
he don't know that 87% of races are won by horses on or near the lead.
he thinks a horse on the lead don't win is a quitter. I say any horse didn't win, quit.

On those car rides as his dirty hands barely touched the steering wheel and he punctuated every Take your average goof by pointing at someone who was NOT straight ahead where the other cars were and I sensed that he was living the life of a jockey in his old Buick as we whisked toward the track to take money from the average goof by bobbing and weaving toward his finish line, which was the betting window.

Uncle Pat had three hard and fast rules when it came to betting the horses.
1. Make them beat you. Get you a dancer out of the gate and make them all come and beat you. Even if you lose being in the lead gets the old heart pumping and a pumping heart will put lead in your pencil. (That one would escape me for a long while, until I couldn't escape it and thought about it even more than what Uncle Pat was going to tell me about the average goof.)
2. Horses that win continue to win. Most a these goofs whisper to me that the 2 horse is due cause he ain't won in 6 races. I say, he's due to lose AGAIN.
3. Class will always tell. Most a these goofs got lousy character cause their mama had bad character and whoever they think their daddy was had bad character. Bet a well bred horse. Boy is Father's day going to be a cluster around here.

For years I have kept Uncle Pat's holy trinity in mind as I dope the form. I like well bred horses who tend to run on the lead and if they won last time out I wager that they will continue to win. Uncle Pat would be proud that his philosophy has served me well through the years. I have not been the average goof at the window and some would even say, "He knows what he's doing." That year at the Friendly Tavern, Uncle Pat bet Sunday Silence to win the Belmont and give him a Triple Crown to talk about for months. It had been 11 years since Seattle Slew and as Uncle Pat was fond of saying, Slew's don't come along every day but this Silence got it all...he can stalk, good turn of foot and he won't never let that Easy Goer go by him. As they came down the stretch of the Belmont, Easy Goer blew by Sunday Silence and ruined Uncle Pat's night. He held his two dollar win ticket on Sunday Silence in the air like communion for a long long time. When he finally brought it down, he gave it to me and told me to hold the ticket and only throw it away when another horse wins the triple crown. I still have the ticket and I have had it with me through Silver Charm and Real Quiet and Smarty Jones and and and...I will hold it until the another Slew comes along.

But I am going to "break form" and do something Uncle Pat would never do and would not approve of...The Breeders Cup will be run Friday and Saturday at Churchill Downs in Louisville and although it's been years since I attended a BC with Uncle Patrick under the Twin Spires of the Downs, I remember his admonition like it was yesterday. As we walked the grounds doping the form and Uncle Pat sipped on flask whiskey, he met a friend from Donora. The friend was delighted to see Uncle Pat because as he told it, "Every horse I picked today, they should give the jockey a sandwich and a flashlight so he don't get lost coming home in the dark." He was sure that a winner was hiding in Uncle Pat's form and that a 9-1 shot from Pat would be just the bolt of lightning he needed to turn his day around. Uncle Pat shared his whiskey but not his picks. When the man walked away muttering to himself, I asked Uncle Pat why he was so stingy. "Jimmy, the average goof starts playing your horses, it's like kissing your sister." I didn't know what that meant then and I still don't. I like to think that rather than Uncle Pat being stingy, he thought telling someone else popped the magic balloon.

I am not so superstitious and in the sincere hope of helping the average goof, I am going to share my plays over the next couple of days. All of these picks work better when in Louisville, while downing a bourbon and munching on fried pickles, but if you cannot see the animals accelerate live...flip on your TV and see if I learned anything from Uncle Pat.

BREEDERS CUP PICKS for the AVERAGE GOOF
FRIDAY"S CARD WINNERS

JUVENILE SPRINT 4:10PM POST TIME
This is the 1st year for the Juvenile Sprint. Do we need a Juvenile Sprint? I don't know, but I've never met a BC race I didn't like as I saw it run. Bet the #6, SECRET CIRCLE and get your day started off with a chalk winner.

JUVENILE FILLIES TURF 4:50 POST TIME
All the money will be on the #2, ELUSIVE KATE, who has been running extremely well in Europe. But keep in mind, a 2 year old filly has never shipped over and won this race. I'm going after the #4, STOPSHOPPINGMARIA.

FILLY AND MARE SPRINT (7F) 5:30 POST TIME
This will be our BEST BET of the 2 days. TURBULENT DESCENT is 6 for 8 lifetime and her 2 losses were to IT"S TRICKY and ZAZU. I saw this horse run in The Test at Saratoga this summer and turned to my friend after she demolished the field with my jaw dropped. I doubt David Flores will have to even show her the whip. She wins by 5.

JUVENILE FILLIES (8 1/2F) 6:10 POST TIME
I'm going after a shot in this race because I am not sold on #5 or #9. The #4 MISS NETTA broke her maiden at Saratoga in late August and then ran a respectable 3rd behind MY MISS AURELIA and STOPSHOPPINGMARIA in the Frizette. The daughter of STREET SENSE should like the extra ground and I'm thinking she comes up big and for a nice price as her ML is 15-1.

FILLY AND MARE TURF (11F) 6:50 POST TIME
#5, NAHRAIN can only improve after a monster race in a Group 1 where she nosed out ANNOUNCE. I look for the same two horses to be powering toward the line late and NAHRAIN to edge ANNOUNCE again.

DISTAFF (LADIES CLASSIC, 9F) 7:30 POST TIME
Even with HAVRE DE GRACE running in the Classic and UNRIVALED BELLE retired and BLIND LUCK not running, this race still has a ton of star power. The Kentucky Oaks winner, PLUM PRETTY, the Alabama winner, ROYAL DELTA and the Coaching Club American Oaks winner, IT"S TRICKY have dueled against each other more than once. I don't believe that trainer Bill Mott thought ROYAL DELTA could win the Beldame vs HAVRE DE GRACE so I have to believe Mott thought he would run his filly against older horses in order to get her ready for this race. PLUM PRETTY ran beautifully at this race course in May and do they come any gutsier than IT'S TRICKY? With ASK THE MOON giving PLUM PRETTY some pressure on the front end, I believe it sets up for a stretch duel between IT"S TRICKY and ROYAL DELTA and I'm giving the nod to Mott and #6, ROYAL DELTA to bring home Jose Lezcano first in the Distaff. Cannot wait to see this race.

Enjoy Friday's races and look for my picks for Saturday's races (and Friday's post mortem) tomorrow morning.

Storylines for SATURDAY

Can UNCLE MO get the 10F in the Classic? Can GOLDLIKOVA get 4 in a row?
SHACKLEFORD vs TRAPPE SHOT in the Dirt Mile.
BIG DRAMA two Sprints in a row?

Don't be the average goof. See you Saturday morning for DAY 2 of the BREEDERS CUP

-James McManus

LeBron To Miami: So Refreshing, So Naive

I was duped. I really believed LeBron was going to stay in Cleveland. Looking back, just two hours after he announced his decision on national TV, I guess it never made sense. The only reason to stay in Cleveland was out of loyalty to his home state and his fans. The Cavs had no resources in place to ensure that they could compete for a title in the near future. The last three years (no Finals appearances) have proved that LeBron can't do it on his own, and the Cavs hadn't exactly stockpiled young talent to give LeBron any sense of a nucleus he could grow with. But, I had also duped myself into believing that staying with the home team, the team that drafted him, the only NBA team he had ever known, the team he singlehandedly lifted out of the dredges of Lake Erie, was the only noble action he could take.

Don't get me wrong, the manner in which he broke Clevelanders' hearts was cruel and unusual. There was no call to embarrass them on live TV. Would you announce a divorce of a 7-year marriage in front of millions of viewers? Sure, he would eventually have to have the awkward press conference where he discussed his hand-wringing decision, but he didn't have to throw himself a day-long media circus before jabbing his jilted lover in the back. On the other hand, if you're a Cleveland fan, when the emotional (and literal) flames have been put out, you'll probably appreciate the following:

A) He legitimately went to a team that has the major pieces in place for a dynasty. I don't necessarily believe that the Heat are a shoo-in for 4 or 5 titles in the next 5 years, but it's not like he left Cleveland for the Nets or Clippers.

B) He didn't go to the Knicks. There's no doubt Cleveland fans' insecurity as a sports city and a city in general runs deep. And they get it: they're David, New York is Goliath. They're the faithful wife, New York is the vapid supermodel. Nobody wants to get dumped for the supermodel. It's just too painful. As much as the NBA's salary structure ensured that Cleveland could offer the most money, leaving for New York would have been about money. It would have been the chance to pursue all the endorsements and global icon status that the title of King of New York would have been privy to. It would have been about trying to become the "billionaire athlete," not a champion.

C) He didn't go to Chicago. Losing your star player, nay, your reason for being, to a division rival might be too much to bear. Playing each other at least 4 times a year, watching LeBron take home division title after division title at your expense year after year, that would be a kick in the gut. I thought LeBron's best chance at multiple titles and sole glory was to team up with Derick Rose, Carlos Boozer, Luol Deng and Joakim Noah in Chicago. That's a sick starting five, and there's no doubt who the alpha dog is there. In Miami, Dwayne Wade is the King and LeBron will be petulantly seeking the crown the whole time he's there. Still, Miami is in the same conference and Cleveland has no chance of making the playoffs without LeBron anyway, so it probably doesn't matter, but the sting would be especially painful if he went to the Bulls. However, a bitter Dan Gilbert, owner of the Cavs, has gone on record to guarantee an NBA championship before LeBron's Heat win one. Incredible. Clearly, this man has lost touch with reality, but I also hope he's right.

That's it. Those are the only three reasons I can come up with for Cleveland to feel good about itself in its moment of agony. If they want to add another irrational level of self-loathing, they can talk themselves into the bitterness of interpreting LeBron's feelings about Cleveland as a city so degrading that he left over $30 million on the table just to get away from the place. It's like a man leaving a woman right after she got a boob job- and taking the boobs with him.

However, what is refreshing is that in an era of egos and money-grabbing, three stars who could each have commanded the maximum salary on their own teams have decided to take less money (albeit in an income tax-free state) to chase their goal of winning championships together. I don't think it will be that easy, but I admire the idea. It almost never happens in baseball because the players union would never allow it, and there's no salary cap, anyway. It sometimes happens in football, but almost always in the form of a "hometown discount," not in a new free agent situation. Sure, LeBron will be making something like $16 million, instead of $20 million if he had signed with, say, Chicago. He'll still be able to live and feed his children. But, in a league and a culture where money has a tendency to define people, Wade, LeBron and Chris Bosh have each chosen to forgo "max status" to build a championship team together. Or, possibly to chase girls on South Beach together.

The irony, however, is that even with taking less money for themselves, their team is left in an awkward position of having 25% of the roster take up 95% of the salary cap space. The Heat are now going to have to find 9 guys to play for the minimum to help the new Big Three succeed. Two of them are going to have to starters. The bench is not going to be impressive. Add an injury here or there to just one of the triumverate and you could be looking at some version of the Phoenix Suns of the past decade. Very good, but not great. And I really don't believe that Wade and James can coexist as teammates for an extended period. One of them is going to want to be the man and when one of them isn't, it's going to be a full-on ugly diva show.

I feel bad for Cleveland. I really do. I don't know how they bounce back from this. I don't know who they convince to play there from the free agent market. They only got LeBron in the first place because they were so terrible and they won the draft lottery for the right to choose him with the #1 pick. They're probably going to be terrible again. This isn't college. You can't win an NBA title with 5 guys who just make a great team, with the 2004 Pistons being the rarest of exceptions. As a Celtics fan, I'm not as concerned about Miami as I would have been in LeBron had joined the Bulls. The Heat may win a title or two, but they won't have a chokehold on the Eastern Conference the entire time. Good luck, LeBron. You'll need it.

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World Cup Fever is Back

"Four pounds?!" I did some quick calculation. I had landed in London just a few hours before, delirious from the bizarrely fortunate flight, the time change, and the excitement of my first trip to England. "That's like six bucks! Just to get into a restaurant at 2:30 in the afternoon? What the hell is going on?" But, Dan and I were hungry, had been traipsing around the financial district and the Tower of London for far too long to find a bite to eat. We handed over the money, grumbling miserably to ourselves. Then all hell broke loose.

Dan and I had recently graduated from college and had planned to take a month-long trip around Europe with our friend Justin, who would meet us a few days later. Our trip would take us to Scotland, France, Spain and Italy and back to France again. Dan had arrived in London the day before and had gotten his bearings a bit, but was still not altogether with it. I had just fastened my seat belt in my coach seat on Virgin Atlantic next to an annoying couple when a flight attendant asked me if I was indeed Craig Weiner and if I would please take my belongings and follow her to my new first class seat, where I proceeded to refuse an offer of the services of a on-board masseuse before realizing too late that I had theoretically paid $3,000 for that massage and that I would not have to pay for it. If either Dan or I had been the least bit tuned in to the world around us, we would have prepared for the obvious. When we walked in that restaurant with the four pound cover charge, we realized that it was, in fact, a pub packed to the max with fans awaiting the impending kickoff of the England-Tunisia game, the first match for both teams in the 1998 World Cup. On this day, we received an education.

Soccer was by no means foreign to me. I had attended the '94 World Cup in the U.S. I grew up playing youth soccer in Florida, following my big brother's footsteps onto the varsity soccer team in high school as a sophomore, playing for a few travel all-star teams in the off-season, and even spending one summer at a soccer camp in Michigan. I played goalkeeper. I thought I was fine at it. I taught myself how to overcome my average punting by developing a drop-kick, which I would crush 70 yards about as often as I would shank sideways out of bounds. I got a rush out of taking charge of the defense, and probably never felt more confident about anything as a teenager than I did when I was positioning my fullbacks and telling them to clear the f@&king ball out of the box. I enjoyed the game and I enjoyed being a part of a team. I hated long-distance running during practice and I hated the politics of playing time. I never played again after eleventh grade.

But, I was still a fan of the game. I knew the World Cup was in France that year, but I didn't really care about anything other than Team USA. Until that fateful late lunch in London. After getting a strange look from the bartender while trying to tip him for my beer, things went more smoothly. Kickoff was still at least an hour away, but the pre-match commentary audio was cranked up high on the large pull-down projection screen in the back of the bar, and there was plenty of chatter from the Englishmen surrounding us. Teddy Sheringham and Alan Shearer were the established strikers, but all eyes were on the young phenom Michael Owen. David Beckham was on his way to god-like status as a playmaker in the midfield. A young woman at a bar later that night told me that she had semen in her pocket, and then pulled out a photograph of David Seaman, revered goalkeeper of the national team. Songs of indeterminate lyrics were sung, and English goals were cheered with such fervor that I would not bet against the finding of semen in the pockets of many a pair of pants that afternoon. From that moment on, I was hooked on the English national team.

Saturday, the U.S. plays England in their first match of the World Cup in South Africa. There are no torn loyalties. I am a U.S. man all the way. Even though Landon Donovan strikes me as a player I would probably hate if he played for another country or a rival club team (if I had a favorite club team), even though I think our defense is suspect and even though I can't pinpoint any particular exciting playing style to our team, I'm an American and this one of the few instances in which we are an underdog anymore. If the English advance beyond the Americans, I will be rooting for them, but the match on Saturday could be a turning point for the way American soccer is perceived by the rest of the world. Even though the U.S. beat Spain on the way to a narrow championship game loss to Brazil in the Confederations Cup last summer, we won't be taken seriously until we consistently advance to the quarterfinals of the World Cup. Beating England would go a long way toward that goal, but it's not the endgame. Sure, it would be fantastic to have the respect of the English, but it's more important to advance far into the tournament and to do it again in 2014 in Brazil. Only then will the U.S. be considered a force to be reckoned with on the international soccer scene.

I watched the opening matches on Friday at home, thinking back to my experience in Orlando in '94 and Europe in '98, which included another accidental appearance at a beach viewing party on a jumbo screen of a France match in Marseilles, and the unfortunate timing of our arrival in Paris, 24 hours after France had won it all, arriving on the Champs Elysees ready for revelry, only to find it completely spent, save for a few strays, sleeping it off. I remembered the challenge of Japan/South Korea in 2002, deciding whether to wake up at 3:00 a.m. to watch a match, or to just stay up all night, and the cool beers of a warm summer afternoon, standing outside a sidewalk cafe to catch games during Germany '06.

The World Cup for me is about a melding of cultures coming together to watch the beautiful game, even if most Americans don't understand it. It's a time for us Americans to take a step back and appreciate how the rest of the world follows sports. It's a time when we Americans can admit that we are not the best at something, and observe how other nations and cultures excel. But, at least we are a part of the experience, learning how to get better, and that's an American spirit I can be proud of. And if we can do it without picking up the horrendous habit of flopping to draw a non-existent foul, so much the better.