The tossing and turning began at about 11:30 Saturday night, shortly after I slipped into bed. The cold sweats started not long after that, and I was awoken by the first nightmare at about 3 a.m. A second nightmare followed at about 7 a.m., just as my 2-year-old son was waking up.
For some of the sleepless night I thought about I would have done with the $17,126 that I should have collected earlier that day. A new car? Pay off bills? A shopping spree for my wife and son? There was a thousand ways I could have spent the money.
But for most of the night I beat myself up. How could I be so stupid? Why did I change my bet? I replayed the Preakness in my mind, over and over and over.
I had the superfecta nailed in Preakness 135. I carefully constructed my bet on Friday morning and a couple hours later wrote the following on the live blog I hosted on Bloodhorse.com:
"Listen folks. I haven't hit a Derby exacta since 2005. But I own the Preakness. Have hit 5 of the last 6. Follow these instructions: 7,8/7,8,11/2,5,6,7,8,9,10,11/2,5,6,7,8,9,10,11. For $1 super it costs $120."
There it was for the whole world to see. I felt confident about it the whole day. I couldn't wait for Saturday evening to come.
But sometime early Saturday morning I began to rethink my wagering strategy. I still liked Lookin At Lucky to win and felt strongly that Super Saver would be in the mix. But I began to like First Dude even more. "What are the chances of hitting the super," I asked myself? I never hit supers. And with that, I changed my bet.
I decided to put some win money on Lookin At Lucky, $10 across the board on First Dude, and played trifectas instead of superfectas. My main bet was a trifecta box with Lookin At Lucky, First Dude, Super Saver, and Schoolyard Dreams. I played a couple of other small bets as well. But no supers.
I didn't realize I would have hit the super until several hours after the race when a couple of bloggers reminded me of what I had written on Friday:
"Listen folks. I haven't hit a Derby exacta since 2005. But I own the Preakness. Have hit 5 of the last 6. Follow these instructions: 7,8/7,8,11/2,5,6,7,8,9,10,11/2,5,6,7,8,9,10,11. For $1 super it costs $120."
I went back and read it. I nearly lost my dinner when I did. Talk about a sickening feeling. By changing my bet I cost myself $17,126. Are you kidding me?
"You must have at least had the trifecta," my wife said. "The third-place horse was named Jackson Bend!"
"I wound up not using Jackson Bend," I said regretfully.
My wife simply shook her head and left the room in disgust. For those of you that do not know, my son's name is Jaxson. Yes, Jaxson. No $2,771 trifecta either. Are you kidding me?
I've had some bad beats in my day--lost many a photo finish, got taken down by disqualification a few times costing me big money, and even got locked on a $3,500 trifecta a few years ago. None of those compare to this one.
I'm not a big bettor. I usually play about $100 on Triple Crown races. On normal days I play about $20 per race. I've hit six IRS tickets in my life. My biggest one was $3,700 back in the early part of the decade.
But $17,126 is in a different league. It was the big one I've been waiting for my whole life. It was mine for the taking. I had the race ‘capped perfectly.
And I have nobody to blame but myself.
I have gotten a few emails from people who said they used my selections and made big money on the Preakness. They said they would have never used First Dude if I hadn't touted him. I am happy for them; happy I was able to help.
Still, it is going to take me a long time to get over this one.
