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The trainer of the 50-1 derby winner was a guy on crutches named Bennie. How did I not pick that horse?
If you’ve ever been to the racetrack, you can usually tell the winners from the losers once the race is over.
I remember being in Louisville on the first Saturday in May when a 31-1 shot won the derby. The throngs of people standing around me stared at their losing tickets in stunned silence.
Meanwhile, some drunk guy yelled, “I picked the winner because he has the same name as my cat.”
“Have another mint julep, douche, before I kick your ass to the 1/8th pole,” I yelled back.
My fellow losers began throwing beer at him. There I was, on the infield of Churchill Downs, and hundreds of people had my back.
And I imagine very few of them knew where the 1/8th pole was.
He’s your oldest and your best friend. If you need him, he’ll be there again. He’s always willing to be second best. A perfect lodger. A perfect guest.