And I think it's gonna be a (good good) time

To nearly quote Elton John.

Last year, in the days leading up to New Year's, I spent Boxing Day in Wagga Wagga, the next few days in Melbourne (partly to catch Day 3 of the Boxing Day Test match*), and the remaining days of 2008 at Falls Festival.

*Looking at the Wikipedia page for the Boxing Day Test match, I didn't realize that Australia had absolutely DOMINATED that match before last year: 9 wins in a row, and 14 wins (and two draws) in the last 18 years. So of course they lost last year. As soon as I enter the arena, you can always count on a dominant sports team to lose it. Just ask the French National Soccer team. Coming off a World Cup victory in 1998 and holding onto an ungodly winning streak, I went to see them play Russia in June 1999 for a qualifying match for Euro 2000. They lost. Of course.

This year, in the days leading up to New Year's, it's exactly the same: Boxing Day in Wagga, a couple of days in Melbourne for the cricket, the last few days of 2009 at Falls Festival. Only difference from last year is that my stay in Wagga will start a few days earlier, with Christmas with the Short family.

If this year is to live up to last year's trip, it has an uphill battle to fight. Last year was epic. Everything about that trip. But I'm pretty confident that this year can match it. Perhaps even exceed it? I wouldn't be surprised.

But let's not get our hopes up, at least not too much. A big week lies ahead of me. It should be good. And I just may report on it here sometime in the next few months.

Have a great Christmas (for those of that ilk) and New Year's, everyone.

The 2009 Melbourne Cup: The official, definitive and final recap

So. Let's see. The Melbourne Cup was on November 3. Today is December 23.

Yes, I let some time go before writing about the trip (or, well, anything on here). That being said,* there is an upside to my indolence: by waiting so long – or I guess more aptly, by putting it off for so long – I can pretty much guarantee you that this is the absolute final recap on the 2009 running of the Melbourne Cup.

*I just slammed my way through Season 7 of Curb Your Enthusiasm. Brilliant, brilliant stuff. And we basically got an entire new episode of Seinfeld out of it! They certainly made up for the finale. Oh yes.

You see, as I first noted two years ago, this nation goes absolutely mad for the Melbourne Cup. Hugely mad. It's called "The race that stops a nation" for a reason. Literally, everything stops. Everyone gets in front of a TV. I wouldn't be surprised if the streets were completely deserted.* In Melbourne, the day is a public holiday!

*Problem is we'll never know, as there's no one there to check. It'll forever be up there with the whole "tree falling in the woods" conundrum.

Anyway. As I was saying. Everyone goes mad for the race. But the thing is, it comes out of nowhere. Seriously. A week prior to the race, most people in Australia couldn't name a single horse that might be running in it. Then, like a flash in the pan, everyone gets into it. The local and national news are covering it. It's on the front page of every sports section, if not the main section. It's the topic of discussion at every water cooler. People can recite the entire 24-horse field in alphabetical order, reverse alphabetical order, by age, by sex, by jockey, by trainer, by owner, by country of origin, you name it.

The race is run on a Tuesday.

And then it's over. The media dissects it on Tuesday night and Wednesday. Maybe you get a few remnants on Thursday. And that's it. Just as fast and unexpectedly as it came, it's gone. No more mentions. It's almost like it never happened.

Which brings us back to me! Seven weeks and a day after the race was run, here's my little recap of the race and day. And as the above paragraphs were meant to illustrate, in my very longwinded way, this surely has to be the last thing ever in the history of civilization to be written about the 2009 Melbourne Cup. I feel honored. And perhaps a little daunted by the responsibility.

So let's break this bad boy down thematic style.

The gambling

Yeah, I may have made some proclamations that I was gonna get ridiculously knowledgeable on the race, and I swear I made a few token attempts to do that. But for the most part, life kinda got in the way. So going into the race, my level of knowledge was at about 20% of what I would've liked. And that included zero knowledge on any of the races other than the big one.

I placed and lost some bets on races one through six. And the big one, Race 7? I nailed it!! Granted, I put bets on several horses, but as the race neared, I settled more and more on Shocking as my singular pick. And Shocking did it. Unfortunately, that means that the other five or six horses I had money on didn't do it, so on the day, I broke just about even.*

*This "breaking even" thing doesn't exactly count the whole day, which included an evening jaunt to the casino during which I very much did not break even. Yeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh, not even remotely close to even. Let's move on.

The spectacle

Attendance on the day was 102,000 people, which I think is the largest crowd I've ever been a part of. But because we weren't in a circular stadium in which you could see everyone else, it didn't really feel like there were 102,000 people there. Not even close, really. If I had no knowledge of the day or the race, I very well may have guessed that the attendance was something around 40,000.

Regardless of how big I perceived the crowd to be, it still felt like a huge event. There was a buzz on the train heading out to the track. Everyone was dressed up. Each woman was seemingly trying to outdo all others with her hat. The lawn for general admission was absolutely packed. The vibe, even when we arrived at 10:45, was downright giddy. And that giddyness increased even more so as the day progressed, as more alcohol was consumed, as the anticipation increased. So when it came time for the big race to start, just after 3, we were ready. We were very ready.

The race

I'd (kinda) done my reading. I'd placed my bets. I'd secured my viewing spot. And at just after 3, the 2009 Melbourne Cup started.

One thing about the Melbourne Cup. It's long. LOOOOOOOOOONG. At just a shade under two miles, it's half a mile longer than the "long" Triple Crown race, the Belmont Stakes. So even after the race starts, you need to control your emotions. Settle in. Don't get too excited. At least not too early.

What pretty much makes this impossible, however, is that the horses run by you twice: once, right after the start, and then again, as they come down the stretch. So when they flew by us that first time, we all lost it. This is what we've been waiting all day for!! WOOOOOO!!! But then they were gone. And we waited. Sure, we could see the race on the big screen, but it was pretty hard to make out who was in what place, and it was absolutely impossible to hear the call of the race, not above the noise of the crowd.

Eventually, the horses rounded the last turn towards the finish and headed back to us. And as they passed us, about 100 meters before the finish line, there was Shocking leading the way! And there went Shocking to keep the lead right to the end!!!

Everyone went wild.* Some people may have had Shocking, most probably didn't, but it didn't really matter. We'd all just watched the Melbourne Cup. And it was good.

*The "everyone" excludes Maz, who was feverishly trying to figure out if he'd hit his trifecta. It wasn't until he actually went to the betting window, presented his ticket and received several hundred dollar notes that he was convinced that he'd won.

The post race

There are 10 races on Melbourne Cup Day. And for the most part, people not only got into the big race but the preceding six races as well. The last three races, however? My lord... after the big race, it was like the Plague had descended on the track. Blink, and everyone was gone. And the seagulls swooped. Oh yes... the seagulls swooped.

After watching a race or two more and drinking some of Maz's winnings, we made haste as well, back to our hotel and then onto the casino and the city.

The next day

Noise. Yeah... noise.

LOUD NOISES!!!

This is what I awoke to the next morning. As they ripped apart the parking lot outside our hotel room. I mean that as literally as possible. The concrete that was in the parking lot the day before? It was no more. At 8 in the freaking morning. On the day after the Melbourne Freaking Cup.

So, yeah. The day didn't start out so well. And it really didn't get any better. Maz, Joanne and I wandered around the city, first on a failed attempt to go to the Coffee Bean that I'd found on a prior trip, then on a failed attempt to go to the hotel that Maz was staying in that night. But we finally got to the hotel, collapsed for an hour, and then I was off to the airport.

I was miserable. I felt disgusting. But I'd been to the Melbourne Cup. And it was good.

I hope

Just because.

---

I hope. sound bite  Morgan Freeman sound bites

I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still, or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

From the notebook: The Curse of Dingman

Yeah. The Yankees won. I'm acknowledging it. Great.

Before we move on for good, I guess it would be fitting to use this space to do another "From the notebook" post and reprint an email that I sent to a group of friends on November 7, 2003, shortly after I gleefully watched Josh Beckett and the Marlins vanquish the Yankees in the World Series. (My lord... there was glee.)

Enough of the Bambino or the Billy Goat... the Curse of Dingman is the real deal! For each person you forward this onto, whether they're a Yankee hater or not, the Curse of Dingman will be extended 3 years!!

---

In 1993, in the 36th round of the amateur draft, the Yankees selected Craig Allen Dingman, a young right-handed hurler from Wichita, Kansas. Seven years and three Yankees World Series titles later, Dingman was given a chance to be part of the storied franchise when he was sent up to The Show. And what do you know, but a few months after that promotion, the Yanks bested the Mets, their cross-town rivals, four games to one in the Fall Classic. Dingman's stature as a good luck charm was solidified.

For whatever reason though, the Yankees didn't see the signs. Because just days before they set out to defend their title in the 2001 season, they traded Dingman to the Colorado Rockies for one Julio de Paula.

But something was afoot. Something the Yankees should have seen coming faster than a Steinbrenner rage-induced coaching staff overhaul. Because ever since that fateful move, despite making the playoffs each year and going to the Series twice, the Yankees have never again won it all.

THE CURSE OF DINGMAN LIVES!!

Apparently this email was only forwarded to three people... hence a nine-year spell in between Yankees World Series victories. And the Curse of Dingman? It no longer lives. Sigh.

You know how I enjoy throwin' some Kleinballs?

I feel like there's some Andy Rooney-ness to the cadence of this post. Imagine he was reading the below to you. Perhaps you'll get more enjoyment out of it. Or not. Anyway.

You know how I said I was gonna learn everything there is to know about the Melbourne Cup? Yeeeeaaaaaahhh, it's looking like that isn't gonna happen. But I'm semi knowledgeable at the moment -- just placed my first bet, $5 on Roman Emperor -- and have some reading material for the flight down to Melbourne tomorrow.

You know how I said Pedro was gonna get torn apart by the Yankees in Game 2 of the World Series? Yeeeeaaaaaahhh, didn't quite happen. Kind of some middle ground there. Although 3 ERs in 6+ IP at Yankee Stadium... if you're a Phillies fan, I think you have to be happy with that from 2009 Pedro Martinez.

You know how I said the Angels would win the World Series? Yeeeeeaaaaaaahhhh, clearly na ga da. I just pray the Phils can pull something off here.

You know how I beat a very consistent drum about Joe Posnanski being a great freaking writer? Yeeeeeeaaaahhhh, I'm still right on that one. He's done it again, this time on Derek Jeter.

You know how it's been a 14/17 hour time difference between Sydney and the East/West Coast of the US? Yeeeeeaaaaaahhhh, just an FYI with Daylight Savings Time, now it's 16/19.

You know how I'm going to Melbourne tomorrow? Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhh, I should probably pack for that and then get some sleep. Good night, Planet Earth!

Is Charlie Manuel feeding Pedro to the dogs?

7th inning, Game 7, 2004 ALCS, Yankee Stadium. I remember it too well. Up 8-1, the Red Sox were on the verge of completing the greatest comeback in baseball history. Yankee Stadium was silent. I was euphoric.

And then, inexplicably, improbably, incomprehensibly, Terry Francona summoned Pedro Martinez to pitch.

In 2004, Pedro was already in decline. He was still great, yes, but he was a far, far, far cry from the Pedro of years past. And in his previous two starts in that year's ALCS, he had allowed 7 runs in 12 innings.

I still don't know why Francona did it.

(Well, I think I know why he did it: Pedro needed redemption. Not just for how he had performed up to that point in that series, but for how he had performed in, ahem, a certain other Game 7. But for the game, for the team, for Red Sox Nation, it was a silly, ridiculous, absurd move.)

Visibly amped up for this appearance -- clearly too amped up, enough to lose control of his emotions -- Pedro got absolutely obliterated by the Yankees. It was like batting practice for them. And Yankee Stadium came to life. It was awful. Just a few pitches into the inning (consecutive doubles by Matsui and Williams on what I recall as one straight, lifeless fastball after another) and I was mush. This is supposed to be a moment of triumph! A moment I'll remember for the rest of my life! Why Terry, WHY??!?

Thinking about it today, it felt like Pedro allowed 20 runs that inning. In fact, he only allowed two. But the damage had been done. After systematically ripping the heart out of every Yankees fan over the last 3 games and 6 innings -- beating their team in every conceivable, cruel and crushing manner possible -- those fans had hope again. There is nothing worse than a Yankees fan with hope. Nothing. So because of that, for what he allowed to happen, to this day, part of me still hasn't let myself forgive Francona for it.

Game 2 of the World Series will be Pedro's first playoff appearance against the Yankees since that awful moment in Game 7. So I ask: Is Charlie Manuel pulling a Terry Francona? Is this a sentimental start, a chance for Pedro to finally redeem himself?

I'm sure Manuel would laugh that question off. As it should be laughed off. But does part of him think that, just a tiny, tiny bit? Well, at the very least, it's crossed his mind.

Either way, Phillies fans should just go ahead and write off Game 2. Because Yankee Stadium will be shaking. Freaking electric. And Pedro, unless he can find some zen-like way to contain his emotions, is going to try to overpower the Yankees lineup. He can't overpower the Yankees lineup.

Phillies fans: take your well-deserved win in Game 1 and be happy with it. The series will be tied at one apiece going back to Philly.

However! I will add that despite my near certainty that Game 2 will transpire like this, and despite my absolute hatred of all things Yankees, I'm still very excited for tomorrow, to see the moment Pedro steps onto the mound to start the bottom of the 1st. It will make for great, great theater.

And hey! Maybe, just maybe, Pedro will prove me wrong.*

*I pray he proves me wrong, and finally redeems himself.**








**And I think he can do it.

Jumping into the deep end

For the majority of the time that I lived in New York, I worked for an advertising agency that counted two of the racetracks in New Jersey (Meadowlands Racetrack and Monmouth Park) as clients. Great clients. Some nice perks. And I worked hard for them. But one thing I never did, one thing I never fully committed myself to, was to really immerse myself in the experience and learn about the horses, the track, the place. I just worked for my clients and tried to help them bring more people to the track. And sure, when I went out to the track myself, I generally had a good time.*

*One aspect of the races that has never led to good times? The betting. I've won a few bets here and there, but I've never left a racetrack up. Never. This has haunted me nearly as much as my failure to catch a ball in the stands at a professional baseball game.

I don't know if regret is the right word, but I've always had this lingering sense of disappointment that I didn't get into the racing more. It would be interesting, right? Learn about the horses, the trainers, the owners, the jockeys. How they all have a hand in shaping the journey, how they all have so much invested in the races. There are some real stories there, which we might occasionally hear about during the Triple Crown or perhaps in a movie like Seabiscuit. Part of me always wanted to really immerse myself in that, if even for one day.

Well, that day has come. As I said in my last post, I'm going to the Melbourne Cup in just over a week. So I've committed myself to learn everything I can about the day: the race, the preceding races, the horses, everything. I'm going to walk to the track next Tuesday with some serious knowledge. Who are the favorites? What bets offer the best value? What's each horse's handicap? How have the horses fared in previous races? How have they fared in races run in similar conditions? I'm gonna know it all. I'm gonna take the Melbourne Cup by storm. And by the end of the day, I'll be making a pose similar to that guy in the photo.*

*Or more likely, not at all. My streak of leaving a racetrack down will undoubtedly continue. But at least I'll have fun. I think. Hopefully.