By a quarter to one I was joined by my two compatriots, jock’s room masseur Stevie Lee and loveable retiree Ira from Great Neck. We were all doping out the first race when greatness was being born right before our eyes. “You see that number 3 horse, Great All Over?” Stevie volunteered to us. “Well, I worked on him about an hour ago at the barn.” Ira and I both were startled to learn that our buddy did more than just massage humans.
Still, looking over the horse’s past performances I cracked “Yeah, I think God would have to work on this horse to move him up!” Stevie countered “I know, I’m just saying that the trainer had me work on the horse for about 45 minutes before he brought him over. The horse was tight too.” I again looked at the horse’s past form and he wasn’t just bad… he was terrible! This was a cheap maiden claiming race, the bottom of the barrel in NY, and this horse sure was consistent: he finished up the track from gate to finish in every start.” This horse doesn’t need a massage… it needs a miracle!” Ira laughed, but very subtlety so as not to insult Stevie.
He ran the race of his life! After being trapped on the rail in this 13 horse field, he weaved through horses down the stretch and lost the
whole race by no more than a head! He finished third, beating 10 horses and causing gasps from track announcer Tom Durkin. Stevie just sat there, perhaps even a bit shocked at what his work must have
accomplished. Ira and I looked at each other, shaking our heads. “What did you actually do to that horse Stevie?” Ira asked. “Could you do the same thing for me… my wife would be grateful?”