The Inside Rail

Saturday morning column. Perfect. That's what I'm meant to do when I flip open my laptop on this steamy Saturday morning. Fair Hill in seven hours, but I've got time to write an eloquent, thought-provoking expose on life.

I open a new Word document, while it's opening, I check my email. Find a note from George Baker about an Elusive Quality colt to come to America. So, I go to Keeneland's website to look up his pedigree. While there, I see the video of Exaggerator selling, so I watch that. He is big now. He was big then. Right, look up that Elusive Quality. Too many filters, not enough filters. I can't find him. Off to Racing Post site to find him, that'll be easier. Log in, of course, it makes me log in every day, every time, like knocking on the door of your own house. It spins. Then clicks. I'm in. I type in his name. Click on sales. Click on catalogue page and, wait for it, wait for it, I'm greeted with Server Error in Application "APPS.KEENELAND.COM...

This is going well.

While on The Racing Post site, I see an article about California jockeys being allowed one additional strike of the whip in the closing stages of a race. No sport makes headlines like racing. Or quotes. Commissioner Steve Beneto made a lot of friends, arguing with a jockey and alienating the bettor with his comment, "Well, the hell with the bettors."

Yeah, the hell with the bettors. That's a good strategy.

Right, where I was? Still haven't found the pedigree to These Are The Days. Love that name, George must be a Carly Simon fan.

So, I Google 'these are the good old days' and Simon pops up on my screen. She hikes up her dress, taps her barefoot and lilts into Anticipation.

We can never know about the days to come

But we think about them anyway, yay

And I wonder if I'm really with you now

Or just chasin' after some finer day

Anticipation, anticipation

Is makin' me late

Is keepin' me waitin'

And I tell you how easy it feels to be with you

And how right your arms feel around me

But I, I rehearsed those lines just late last night

When I was thinkin' about how right tonight might be

Anticipation, anticipation

Is makin' me late

Is keepin' me waitin'

And tomorrow we might not be together

I'm no prophet and I don't know nature's ways

So I'll try and see into your eyes right now

And stay right here 'cause these are the good old days...

Miles patters down the stairs, hair aflutter, eyes half mast, carrying King Lear. He grabs a blanket, curls up next to me on the couch and peppers me with questions about Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It, the Comedy of Errors...

I guess that's today's column. If you find that pedigree, let me know. 


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