Cooler at the Track

It was another glorious day at the horse track, overcast, the slightest drizzle, a pleasant reminder that those of us here in Florida don’t constantly reside on the surface of the sun.  Plus… it was opening day!

Opening Day at Tampa Bay Downs generally falls around Thanksgiving every year.  This will be the 98^th season the track has been operational, first opening its doors in 1926.

That’s a pretty good run.

The gang and I got together, as we do every year for Opening Day.  Coach, BCole, Dr. Milhouse, DRealEmcee and I, all eager to throw down our hard-earned cash on the ponies with the hopes of filling out one of those tax forms, indicating we’ve won enough money that Uncle Sam needs to know about it.

After coffee and donut holes, BCole and I arrived at the track just in time to wager on the first race, but it’s the second race that won us money.

On a hunch (she’s a horse whisperer), BCole decided to place a $5 wager on the number three horse to win.  Wouldn’t you know it?  The number three horse came in just shy of thirty to one.  Nothing like starting your day off with a big winner.  It takes the pressure off and allows you to throw money back on the board a little more daringly. 

After hitting another wager in the 4^th race, narrowly missing a nice hit in the 5^th, landing a fat exacta in the 6^th and having already purchased another ticket for the 7^th, one that would turn into another winner, that’s when we saw him.

He’d appeared suddenly, from out of nowhere, as if directed from the offices above.  Heck, he just about butted us in line, an older Latin gentleman, barely speaking English, plaid shirt, trucker hat, tanned skin, pushing only a broom and a dustpan.  A maintenance man, a clean-up guy, a cooler.

“Cuatro,” he whispered, as he walked by.

Now, I don’t care how hot or cold you are.  If you’re at the track and a guy who works there gives you a tip, especially one in Spanish, you’re going to assume this guy’s got an in with the jockeys and knows what the hell he’s talking about.

We fell for it hook, line and sinker.

“Well, now we have to bet the four,” I said to BCole, which we did across the board after receiving this sage advice from a man who came as soon as he went.

Fucking cooler. 

We didn’t even have the number four horse on any of our tickets up until then, but we sure did after heeding his words.  We loaded up.  Who knew he was a cooler?

The whistle sounded, the race went off and the number four horse… finished in third to last place!  It stumbled out of the gate and never, not even for a moment, caught steam.

I couldn’t believe I fell for it.  I couldn’t believe that a horse track of such stature would employ coolers.  But they do and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Minutes beforehand, our friendly cashier bragged we’d been cashing tickets like nobody else.  He must have overheard.  Cashier to Cooler.  Come in, Cooler. Crumpled ticket cleanup on aisle five.

Three more races went off that afternoon.  We didn’t hit a single thing after he came about.  Not even close.

Fucking cooler.

We saw him after the race.  He had no reason to hide.  His job was done, the subpoena had been delivered.  After all, he’s a professional.

“Que paso con el cuatro?”  I asked him.  I should have asked him for a damn refund.

I didn’t quite understand his response.  I’m sure it was all bullshit anyway.  Besides, I was trying to drown out the echoing “cuatro” still running through my head, words I wished I’d never heard in the first place.

And there you have it, children.  What’s the lesson to be learned?  That coolers do in fact exist at dog tracks.  Like that time months ago at my local Hard Rock where, after a heater on the roulette table, I saw the pit boss walk over, stare us down, hit a few buttons on a computer screen and watch as the table cooled off like Antarctica.  I didn’t hit another number for the rest of the evening.

Fucking coolers.

You believe what you want.  I believe in coolers.  So, tread lightly when you receive sage advice from a stranger at the racetrack or anywhere for that matter.  You might not recognize the cooler at first glance, but you’ll know him when he’s gone.

He’ll have taken your money with him.