The wrong horse
The highest gambling wisdom is knowing when to quit. El Lobo, however, had scrambled my brains. I was like a man panning for gold in a riverbed who's just found a big nugget and some ass comes along, waving his arms and shouting that the dam upstream is about to burst. Do you get out of the river? Of course not. William Murray is a man of letters and a horseplayer. As a regular writer for both The New Yorker and the Daily Racing Form, he is a connoisseur of the bon mot. And the sweet two-year-old filly that can go long - and both are plentifully evident in this delightful new book. The Wrong Horse is equal parts memoir and reportage: Here is a portrait of an obsession and of the peculiar world of American Thoroughbred racing, with its unique social mores and colorful characters. Murray, who has been a bettor and an owner, a winner and a loser, at tracks all over America, explores the racing game with the understanding of a savvy insider. And the slightly rueful wit of a man who knows it's impossible to find either satisfaction or riches there. But, as one character says, "There's always fresh." That passion for the ponies also runs throughout these pages. While no sure-fire betting formulas are proffered here, no racetrack regular will fail to profit from this up-close look at who won and how they did it, and who lost and how they accomplished that. From the betting window to the backside, here are. Entertaining and spirited stories of trainers and horses, tracks from the upstarts of California to the blue bloods of the East, jockeys who can pull magic from mediocre mounts, the mixed blessing of being in Louisville during the Kentucky Derby, and the smug calm of holding the winning ticket at thirty to one. The Wrong Horse is William Murray's homage to an oval-shaped path of turf that is sometimes hard and fast. But only sometimes.
