Horse Players Pack Lincoln Downs

Dismal schmisal. A lot of people who came down to Lincoln Downs Saturday for opening day said I threw the eigth race. Hell's bells, I almost threw my lunch.

Last month I had it good. I was running down at Sunshine Park in Florida and it was nice and warm. Twice a week they'd take me out to the beach and gallop me up and down in the surf. So I played ball with them. I picked up two seconds and a third and then won three in a row.

Taken for a Ride

That was last month. When Sunshine closed, they put me on a train and sent me up here. The day we got to Lincoln there were six inches of snow on the ground. Anybody who would open a New England track this early would enter his grandmother in a claiming race.

But the monetary masochists love it. There were 27,000 of them here Saturday and they crammed close to a million smackers through the mutual windows. By the time I left the paddock for the last race, they'd eaten all the hot dogs, guzzled all the orange soda, and started swilling warm beer.

Could Have Won

The management must have cleared an easy 50 grand, but you'd never know it from looking at the purses they put up. Take my race. The winner got $850. I've done better time but you think I'm going to break my neck for a lousy 850 bucks?

I tell you it makes me sick to my stomach seeing all those suckers drive down from New Hampshire and Maine and Boston and Connecticut just to watch a bunch of goats limp around a small-time track for feed money.

Tells All

They all have a copy of the Morning Telegraph and then they buy a 50 cent "hot tip" card. After they pore over these for half an hour, they stick a pin into their programs and rush down to the window to slap two bucks on a nag that's in the race racket because it's too old to pull a milk wagon.