Channi Ruzzo’s The Proven One aka Plato was sent to a Maiden Special Weight at Inglewood Park while Mike Eaton’s filly Make Me Clever went to the $75,000 “Carnival Stakes” at Illinois Raceway. The results are pending. Meanwhile the SIM charges forward…
AND NOW…SIM Series Week 6 Episode 6
A buzzing comes through my fax machine. I pick it up and see it’s from the Steward. “Year 24 Hall of Fame Inductees” it reads. I comb through some familiar names. Loki Dynasty, Atlas, Change the Stars, Tickle, Derby Dancer, Elusive Pegasus, Tejano’s Pride, and One For the Ages. I check the Search and pull up a few of them. They’re a collection of the SIM’s great past and a place that every owner hopes to see one day.
I read further and see “Dave Shields” and “Robin Tan.” I have yet to interact with Robin, however the recently retired Dave has contributed greatly to the SIM. In fact, he’s probably contributed to every new stable since Season 18, when he gave me Moog, a dirt router that gave me my first SIM win and Black Sun, a Saturn baby that I continue to race for no good reason. I’m sure later this season, he’ll join Moog in the pasture. Mary reminded me to vote for the Hall of Fame, but I remember thinking that Dave would undoubtedly be voted in, so I decided not to.
I grab my files and leave for lunch. Mary is off today. Actually, she picked up another part time job at another stable. She trains horses for a living and unfortunately, my stable isn’t her only client. Regardless, I usually eat lunch alone anyways. I prefer the quietness.
As I’m driving towards The Brite Spot, a family owned Mexican Restaurant, I get a phone call from Chris Simpson. His colt Acting Up, finished 3rd in his debut.
“Show?” I say.
“Yeah, I was a little disappointed. I was really hoping for a win.” He says as he begins to break up. “There, some, very nice, in the race. Two that beat him worked well into the race.”
“Any equipment changes?” I ask. “Hello? Hello?”
I end the phone call as I pull up to The Brite Spot. The sign on the building is dilapidated, but even from afar, its still visible that “Brite” has always been spelled incorrectly. I walk inside and say hi to Laura, the owner’s niece who works there. I order my usual, a carne asada burrito, wet with red chile sauce, and an orange bang, which is a whipped orange drink that probably has more sugar than one should consume.
“Hello?” I say into my Blackberry again. “Chris! Yeah, it’s ok. No, I was asking about equipment changes.”
“No. No changes for now. I don’t think there is any need to make any changes.” Chris says.
“Have you seen the voting polls?” I ask.
“It looks, maiden,” he says as he begins breaking up again. “Week 6, 7 maiden. It’s been a, week. I won two, just paying the bills. Three fillies, Dare to Dream, not performing like-”
The conversation comes to an abrupt halt. I put my phone down and open the Long Beach Press Telegram’s sports page. I begin reading, but before long, I notice a familiar face walking in. It’s Clark Hoss. I never noticed until now, but he looks like Cal Worthington of Worthington Ford, here in Long Beach (Trust me, Youtube or Google him). He used to have these commercials wearing an extremely similar cowboy hat and shirt while walking with “his dog Spot” down his aisle of cars with the jingle “If you want a new car, go see Cal. He’s the greatest one by far, go see Cal. If you want your payments low and you want to save some dough, go see Cal, go see Cal, go see Cal!” The irony was that “his dog Spot” was usually a tiger or a pig, not to mention the other various animals he used in his commercials like an elephant!
“Clark,” I say motioning him over. “What brings you out here?”
“Good afternoon, Scott Pho!” He says loudly as he sits down. Oddly, he always uses my entire name.
“Good afternoon sir.”
“Today is a good day for listening and whispering!” He continues. “Let’s take a look at you Scott Pho!”
He puts his hand on my cheek, pushing my face left and right and checking me out. I squirm a little to get away from him. “What are you doing Clark?” I say as a waitress brings my burrito.
“You’re like a duck in water and the sun coming up in the east all at once!” He says. “You eat carne asada burritos like the sun always sets in the west, like your life depended on it, like Darth Vader is a bad mofo, like the winner of the Stewards Crown Juvenile is cursed and never wins the Derby, OK?”
I’m confused by now, but he continues.
“Enjoy your time at the track, and please do listen to what your horses say!” Clark yells excitedly.
He stands up and leaves without saying goodbye, muttering something that I can’t make out. I want to yell “AMEN!” but I don’t want the other patrons to think I’m nuts. I watch him leave and ironically get into his Ford F-150, no doubt going down to Worthington Ford to either stand in for Cal or do his duty as the “Car Whisperer.”
I try to begin eating as my phone starts buzzing again. It’s Katy Turner.
“Good afternoon Katy Turner!” I yell. “How’s your colt All For Fun doing!”
“Yeah, I was a little disappointed. I was really hoping for a win.” He says as he begins to break up. “There, some, very nice, in the race. Two that beat him worked well into the race.”
“Any equipment changes?” I ask. “Hello? Hello?”
I end the phone call as I pull up to The Brite Spot. The sign on the building is dilapidated, but even from afar, its still visible that “Brite” has always been spelled incorrectly. I walk inside and say hi to Laura, the owner’s niece who works there. I order my usual, a carne asada burrito, wet with red chile sauce, and an orange bang, which is a whipped orange drink that probably has more sugar than one should consume.
“Hello?” I say into my Blackberry again. “Chris! Yeah, it’s ok. No, I was asking about equipment changes.”
“No. No changes for now. I don’t think there is any need to make any changes.” Chris says.
“Have you seen the voting polls?” I ask.
“It looks, maiden,” he says as he begins breaking up again. “Week 6, 7 maiden. It’s been a, week. I won two, just paying the bills. Three fillies, Dare to Dream, not performing like-”
The conversation comes to an abrupt halt. I put my phone down and open the Long Beach Press Telegram’s sports page. I begin reading, but before long, I notice a familiar face walking in. It’s Clark Hoss. I never noticed until now, but he looks like Cal Worthington of Worthington Ford, here in Long Beach (Trust me, Youtube or Google him). He used to have these commercials wearing an extremely similar cowboy hat and shirt while walking with “his dog Spot” down his aisle of cars with the jingle “If you want a new car, go see Cal. He’s the greatest one by far, go see Cal. If you want your payments low and you want to save some dough, go see Cal, go see Cal, go see Cal!” The irony was that “his dog Spot” was usually a tiger or a pig, not to mention the other various animals he used in his commercials like an elephant!
“Clark,” I say motioning him over. “What brings you out here?”
“Good afternoon, Scott Pho!” He says loudly as he sits down. Oddly, he always uses my entire name.
“Good afternoon sir.”
“Today is a good day for listening and whispering!” He continues. “Let’s take a look at you Scott Pho!”
He puts his hand on my cheek, pushing my face left and right and checking me out. I squirm a little to get away from him. “What are you doing Clark?” I say as a waitress brings my burrito.
“You’re like a duck in water and the sun coming up in the east all at once!” He says. “You eat carne asada burritos like the sun always sets in the west, like your life depended on it, like Darth Vader is a bad mofo, like the winner of the Stewards Crown Juvenile is cursed and never wins the Derby, OK?”
I’m confused by now, but he continues.
“Enjoy your time at the track, and please do listen to what your horses say!” Clark yells excitedly.
He stands up and leaves without saying goodbye, muttering something that I can’t make out. I want to yell “AMEN!” but I don’t want the other patrons to think I’m nuts. I watch him leave and ironically get into his Ford F-150, no doubt going down to Worthington Ford to either stand in for Cal or do his duty as the “Car Whisperer.”
I try to begin eating as my phone starts buzzing again. It’s Katy Turner.
“Good afternoon Katy Turner!” I yell. “How’s your colt All For Fun doing!”
“Why are you yelling like that?” She asks.
“Sorry.”
“Anyways, he’s healthy, but I’m a little puzzled about his performance. His workouts weren’t absolutely spectacular, but they were comparable to his half sister Loyalty and she won first time out.”
“What happened out there?”
“Maybe he wasn’t fully fit,” Katy says. “Either that, or he’s too immature and needs some time to grow up a little. Maybe it’s the jockey. I don’t know. I’m really puzzled about this.”
“Maybe some equipment will help,” I say as I begin cutting my burrito into smaller pieces.
“It might. I’ll guess we’ll have to see what the SIM Community thinks. They’re going to have to vote on it. I’m going to run him in a Week 6 or 7 Maiden for sure though.”
We continue chatting about her week of racing as I quietly sneak morsels of carne asada and rice and beans into my mouth. I don’t want Katy to know that I’m eating, though I’m sure she can hear me chewing. She tells me about her two stakes wins and continues on about All For Fun’s complexities. I quote Clark Hoss and tell her that she should always listen to her horse. She’s not sure what I mean by that and neither am I. We eventually exchange goodbyes and hang up.
I finally dig into my burrito, chewing quickly, forgetting all table manners for a few moments. I turn the sports page to page two and begin reading the morning briefs. There’s an article about Tim Brown, the great former Raiders (Los Angeles when he was playing) and Notre Dame wide receiver. He’s being inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame. I think about Dave Shields and his many contributions that have led him to his induction. There’s no SIM Ceremony. No article in the paper. No Hall of Fame Ring. No acceptance speech. There’s just the gratitude of many SIMsters who have benefited from him playing the game.
NEXT WEEK ON SIM SERIES:
“Sorry.”
“Anyways, he’s healthy, but I’m a little puzzled about his performance. His workouts weren’t absolutely spectacular, but they were comparable to his half sister Loyalty and she won first time out.”
“What happened out there?”
“Maybe he wasn’t fully fit,” Katy says. “Either that, or he’s too immature and needs some time to grow up a little. Maybe it’s the jockey. I don’t know. I’m really puzzled about this.”
“Maybe some equipment will help,” I say as I begin cutting my burrito into smaller pieces.
“It might. I’ll guess we’ll have to see what the SIM Community thinks. They’re going to have to vote on it. I’m going to run him in a Week 6 or 7 Maiden for sure though.”
We continue chatting about her week of racing as I quietly sneak morsels of carne asada and rice and beans into my mouth. I don’t want Katy to know that I’m eating, though I’m sure she can hear me chewing. She tells me about her two stakes wins and continues on about All For Fun’s complexities. I quote Clark Hoss and tell her that she should always listen to her horse. She’s not sure what I mean by that and neither am I. We eventually exchange goodbyes and hang up.
I finally dig into my burrito, chewing quickly, forgetting all table manners for a few moments. I turn the sports page to page two and begin reading the morning briefs. There’s an article about Tim Brown, the great former Raiders (Los Angeles when he was playing) and Notre Dame wide receiver. He’s being inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame. I think about Dave Shields and his many contributions that have led him to his induction. There’s no SIM Ceremony. No article in the paper. No Hall of Fame Ring. No acceptance speech. There’s just the gratitude of many SIMsters who have benefited from him playing the game.
NEXT WEEK ON SIM SERIES:
The spotlight shifts back the Ara Davies Time Delay and Carolyn Eaton’s The White Album as the first cut is still looming. Where will you send them? Also, Volume 2 rosters will be revealed. Who will be on it and how will the horses do? Find out next time on SIM Series.
No comments:
Post a Comment