Where's Seabiscuit?

Seven friends and I went horsin' around for a day at The Royal Bangkok Sports Club
race track on Saturday.
There is a scientific way to pick a horse. Don't let anyone tell you differently. I looked critically at the favorites in the printed race guide. I did some in-depth research by noting the times the horses had in previous races and the places they finished. Of course, I had a little difficulty because the guide was written in Thai. But I was not deterred. After I got some explanation from Lindsay about what the columns probably meant, I was set. Two Aussies were in our group. They seemed to have the advantage because they bought a guide written in English, and they were experienced racehorse-pickers. The rest of us were first-timers. But as the day went on, it grew obvious that the playing field was indeed even. As I said, there is a scientific way of picking horses; it just isn't very effective. It's especially that way with limited data. I realized this after two races, and I changed tactics. I closed my eyes and pointed to a name. I announced my pick and new method to the group. Then Mark, one of the Aussies, said and I quote, "That's not a bad horse, mate."
Nara Vadee, lucky number nine, would be my trusty steed. I had picked him-- no he had picked me. Guided by fate and confirmed by Mark's instincts from Down Under, I was confident of victory. But after the horses entered the gates it seemed like an eternity before the race began. The horse stalls were given an appropriate name. The horses were stalled for what must have been three minutes of torture- for both horse, jockey and the betting audience. Thais never rush anything. I began sweating despite the air-conditioned coolness of the room. And an old Thai man started to chat me up in his limited English.
"Where you come from?"
"America. Texas actually."
"Oh Texas. You cowboy." He smiled like everyone does in the Land of Smiles.
"Yep. I reckon." I played along.
"I see cowboy movies. You know Shane? People used to say I look like Shane. You know, 'Come back, Shane?'"
"Yeah. Yeah. Great movie." He would be shocked if I told him I've never seen it. I haven't, but I've heard it's good.
Then he showed an old black and white picture of himself. He used to be a boxer. The picture showed him in fighting stance with a big title belt around his waist. He had a slight resemblence to Muhammad Ali, I swear. Then he demontrated a few quick left jabs and a follow up right hook.
The race finally started. As the horses rounded the first turn, and there was no way for me to tell which one was my horse without a pair of binoculars. It was a big cluster of them with bright colored Thai jockeys whipping their horses furiously. Then one horse broke away from the pack. He shot out like a cannon. The others weren't even close. But I had bet on my horse to place. It didn't matter if it wasn't Nara Vadee racing out ahead. As long as he came in third or better I would make up 150 baht.
But I had misread the signs. My horse came up short; he was fourth by half a length. Ironically, the winner that no one had predicted was named Win! Win! Win! This proves to me that God has a sense of humor.
Actually, one of my friends did have some luck that day. Andrew Cox picked a pathetic horse, a loser that no one gave a chance. It turned out to be his "Seabiscuit." He won 750 baht on a bet of just 50 baht. He wisely stopped betting after that. As the song goes, "You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em..." I knew it was time to fold after 3 races. I felt guilty for wasting money so I gave a little more on Sunday morning. Could that be called hedging my bets?