Eclipse Review

Don't you hate it when you grab a beer and a package of pretzels and turn on your TV, expecting to sit down and watch the Eclipse Awards, only to find Super Bowl XLIII is on? That's when it dawns on you, "Oh man, the Eclipse Awards was last week."

Fear not, horse racing fans. Ray Paulick and the E Street Band did an outstanding job covering the spectacle with professionalism and enthusiasm. Unlike many live blogs, which can result in lengthy and pointless run-on sentences, Mr. Paulick used his covert Palm Treo to provide quick bullet points of important occurring events.

For example:

7:20RP…Dinner is served! Ceremonies starting soon.

7:37RP…Kenny Rice don’t give up your day job to become a stand up comic

8:18RP…Dessert was outstanding…my first roast hazelnut praline, chocolate terrine, coconut bavaroise

8:32RP…Love the lecture from the handicapper of the year. He’s really good.

8:35RP…I think Steven Crist wishes he had a hook to yank the handicapper off stage

8:37RP…Now I wish I had a hook for this guy. I take my earlier comments back.

Exceptionally informative live blog. And it got me to wonder, "What the heck is coconut bavaroise? And do they serve it at Lone Star Park?"

My in-depth research (read: WikiAnswers) provided the answer to what is bavaroise.

1. A hot drink made from eggs, milk, and tea, sweetened and flavoured with a liqueur; seventeenth-century Bavarian.

2. French; (crème bavarois) a cold dessert made from egg custard with gelatine and cream.

3. Hollandaise sauce with crayfish garnish.

Thus, one can extrapolate from the information gleaned that coconut bavaroise is cold gelatin with eggs, cream, and crawdads with lots of liqueur for taste served in a coconut shell with one of those cute little umbrellas. Yum.

Well, if they serve coconut bavaroise at Lone Star Park I won't be ordering it any time soon. But you have to admit that Coconut Bavaroise is a pretty good name for a racehorse. Or a Pittsburgh Steeler.

Query: Has there ever been a horse named Coconut Bavaroise? This required additional investigation. So, being the industrious fact-finding blogger that I am, I sent an email to our resident librarian, Turf Luck's Quinella Queen. She knows everything.

"No luck finding Coconut Bavaroise, but, for some reason, I find this precious: How to Make a Horse Sound with a Coconut."

It's actually a very complex procedure: Clap two halves of a coconut together to produce a sound effect of horses hooves. I believe Monty Python and the Holy Grail received an Eclipse Award for sound effects.



Our favorite librarian continued, "However, if there was a horse named Coconut Bavaroise, and if that horse happened to be of the chestnut color, there's a recipe for that from Tartelette."

Chestnut Bavaroise. Not exactly a staple at a Super Bowl party, but it's not a bad name for a racehorse.

Art in the Winner's Circle

Recently, our favorite flamboyant horse racing blogger, John of Not to the Swift fame, perused the SI Vault and shared with us various equine art that graced the cover of Sports Illustrated many, many years ago, long before anybody invented LZR swimsuits or Michael Jordan. John demonstrated his extensive art intellect regarding notable artists Morton Roberts and Daniel Schwartz, expressing savvy insights of Edgar Degas and/or Pink Squirrel influence.

Coincidentally, Genius Alan displayed his art smarts after an evening at the Queens Museum. I was most impressed with the conceptually eloquent piece by Denzel Washington that was made out of old clothes. If I had the temerity to clean out my husband's sock drawer, there's a possibility that I could embark on some art odyssey; a piece entitled Texan Defeet that would be worthy of display at some roadside crawdad stand in Natchitoches, Louisiana.

Anyway, my Thoroughbred blogging kindred have inspired me to share with you equine art from my own personal collection, especially my newest acquisition, Camel Time.


I recently purchased this piece of artwork for the whopping price of $0.99. It is a 1964 R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company advertisement that reads, "The race is over. She's made the winner's circle. It's Camel time right now." Featured in the piece is the spatial relationship of an attractive owner and her handsome stakes-winning chestnut horse, both of whom are enjoying what is clearly a Camel cigarette. The flowers draped on the horse's withers are red carnations, which in 1964, were awarded to the winner of the Buford T. Snodgrass Memorial Stakes at Garden State Park in New Jersey, along with a carton of cigarettes. Or maybe not.

Of course, I'm not as articulate in my art critique as some as my other horse racing brethren, however I have discovered a useful tool, The Instant Art Critique Phrase Generator. Thus, I can remark with complete confidence in regards to the piece, Camel Time, the subaqueous qualities of the purity of line makes resonant the distinctive formal juxtapositions.

Reach High, Dream Deep, and Get Real

My Dad came to visit over the holidays. And my Dad made me play golf with him. And that 82-year-old punk beat me by two strokes. But during his visit, he shared with me profound words of wisdom,

Reach high, for the stars lie hidden in your soul. Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal.

Okay. He really didn't say that. The most profound thing my Dad ever says to me is "How 'bout a martini?" or "Let's go to Home Depot and buy you a socket set."

Anyway, I have compiled a modest list of some of my goals for 2009 that I would like to share with you. It's noteworthy that this list looks remarkably similar to my goals of 2008 and 2007.

1. Write more serious and factual information for my blog
2. Improve appearance of my blog
3. Win the Pick-6 at Santa Anita when there's a $2,568,990 carryover
4. Lose 8 pounds 12 pounds
5. Exercise daily
6. Quit drinking
7. Get appointed to the Texas Racing Commission

The first goal, writing factual and serious information for Post Parade, is a timely subject. Recently, there has been a major seismic upheaval involving credential journalists, turf writers, bloggers, and the guy who publishes Pinkie's Hot Tips. Journalists have demonstrated a disdain for those who blog, insinuating that they are a poor substitution for a reporter and that they should be relegated back to the primordial ooze from which they came. Meanwhile, bloggers argue that the racing media is changing, transitioning from print media to the internet. And let's face it, the internet is available to everybody; it's not like we have to pay dues to Al Gore. So as free-lance, unpaid, horse racing bloggers, we have the freedom write, "Frank Stronach is a nincompoop."

However, I believe for the most part, bloggers do not consider themselves a replacement for journalists. But they can be a zesty complement to the media. Opinions, history, factual snippets that may not find its way to print media, are provided. How can that be bad for horse racing? Contrary to popular belief, I have been known to provide facts on many occasions, such as the unusual racetrack incident of Mr. Smee. Maybe, at this writing, I'm not serious and, for the most part, factual, but my efforts are aimed to garnering a smile or a chuckle. Paul Moran should give that "smiling" stuff a whirl sometime.

So, I think I have a good handle on that first goal; very attainable. Not so sure about making Mr. Moran chuckle though.

My second aspiration is to improve the appearance of Post Parade. That should be easy. New template. New colors. Improve links. Add more photos. The only thing required is a burst of creative energy, which may come to me in an unsuspecting moment sometime in July. In the meantime, I can begin working on this goal right now. Feel free to take a moment and enjoy this picture of Chris the Guinea Pig:


Let's review my third goal: A winning Pick-6 ticket with a disgustingly obscene carryover. Dream on.

The next three goals of the new year - lose weight, exercise, cease drinking - are all entwined. If I sacrificed my frozen margaritas and ran 5 miles each day, I'm fairly certain I would lose a few pounds. However, if I gave up my frozen margaritas at the racetrack, what cold liquid refreshment could I possibly enjoy while watching and wagering in the warm Texas sunshine? There could be a distinct possibility that I would have to sacrifice going to the track (aghast!). Thus, I have concluded to realize these dreams that I would have to take drastic measures, like having my liver removed.

And finally, I aspire to be part of the Texas Racing Commission. Timber Trick's positive drug screen, the commission's "zero-tolerance" stance, and the subsequent volley of opinions and accusations involving cheaters, contaminants, and chapstick, made me question as to whether the Texas Racing Commission has racing's best interest. Drug testing is a top priority this year; anabolic steroids outlawed. I think I could be beneficial to the racing commission, especially with my laboratory science background and given the fact that I can recognize a horse. I contemplated campaigning for a position on the Texas Racing Commission until I was informed that they are appointed by the governor (read: contributors to Rick Perry), therefore I shall pursue this goal by writing to the next Governor of Texas, Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison, and including a small contribution to her campaign in the hopes that she remembers me in 2011. I'll start with $5.

I Didn't Win a Media Eclipse Award This Year

The winners are rolling in. Yesterday, it was announced that Vinnie Perrone won the Media Eclipse for Writing in the Feature category with his poignant reflections of the late Clem Florio. Billy Reed was awarded the Media Eclipse for his commentary about the late Eight Belles. Bill Nack received an honorable mention for "Eight Belles Breakdown: A Predictable Tragedy." Last year, Bill Mooney won the Media Eclipse about the Precisionist's death.

Thus, one can conclude that these Media Eclipse judges don't have much of a sense of humor. Doom and gloom. Death and tragedy. Nary a positive spin on horse racing. Clearly, I have no hope in winning a coveted Media Eclipse Award.

And speaking of Media Eclipse judges, what exactly were those guys drinking when they bestowed the Photography Eclipse Award of yet again another Frankie Dettori Flying Dismount? Yes, Frankie Dettori is a very photogenic sort. He's been gracing the inside cover of the Lone Star Park program for a number of years with the same joyful expression. Subsequently, I rummaged into the Famous Box of Racing Junk I Have Yet to Discard to review my 2004 Breeders' Cup section. And sure enough, Dallas Morning News photographer, Irwin Thompson, snapped a similar photo of the Frankie Detorri Flying Dismount after 28-1 longshot, Wilko, defeated Afleet Alex in the Juvenile. However, I don't recall Irwin Thompson receiving an Eclipse Award.


So what makes Matt Goins photograph so monumental? Well, could it be that it is an excellent demonstration of how the Breeders' Cup lacks the ability to use Spell Check? As our good friend, Mr. Not Really writes,

How stupid is everyone in that particular error chain, to let those signs get that far? How does that happen? How can the Breeders' Cup seriously call itself the greatest day in racing?

And another thing. Donativum doesn't have a nose.

Perhaps the NTRA was deluged with a insurmountable sundry of uninspiring horse racing photos not worthy of consideration, such as the following,

Title: Texan Blogger Captures Excitement of Thoroughbred Racing After Consuming Old Style, Arlington Park, IL

Media Eclipse Judge 1: Wow! The photographer captures the spirit of racing! What a lovely group of maiden claimers!
Media Eclipse Judge 2: And the begonias look good, too.
Media Eclipse Judge 3: Unfortunately, we can't give this photographer consideration for an award because 'Arlington Park' is spelled correctly.
Media Eclipse Judge 1: (nods head in agreement) Yeah. Plus the begonias are alive, not dead.

Anyway, the TBA is conducting the TBA Photo Contest Do-Over. It's a great way to start off the new year. So start sending in your Media Eclipse worthy photos which may or may not include the Gary West Flying Dismount or some sort of subject called "horse". Good luck!

Holiday Treats Can Lead to a Sugar Overload

Every good story has to come to an end. And sometimes, a bad story can't come to the end soon enough. For those [two] readers that enjoyed the holiday exploits of our racing reindeer, I give you the final installment.

The Racing Reindeer: Comet's Final Turn

Comet stood patiently in the saddling paddock while Huey saddled him, happily whistling Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

All of a sudden, Sid hustled over to them, his racing form tucked under his arm. "Hey you guys," he said, "I got a line on Beer Pong. Tom Amoss is pretty high on this one and his morning line is 5-1. We could have a real solid exacta." He looked at Huey, annoyed. "Will ya quit whistling that song?"

"It's a good song," came a familiar voice.

Comet, Huey, and Sid looked up, startled.

There stood Santa Claus.

He was dressed in dark slacks and a blue sports jacket, easily blending with all the other owners and trainers in the paddock. But the white beard and rosy cheeks were unmistakable. However, he wasn't exactly looking like a jolly ol' fellow.

"Ah, Comet. Huey." Santa raised his white bushy eyebrows in surprise when he looked at Sid. "My, my," he observed dryly, "Look who we have here."

Sid flushed. "Hey there, Santa," he said sheepishly. "Been awhile, huh?"

Santa folded his arms across his chest and spoke with a quiet command. "Comet, it's time for you to come home."

Comet looked at Santa pleadingly. "Please, S.C. Just this one last race! I just want to have the chance to show Larry Jones my stuff! He's got Doc's Friend entered in the Sugar Bowl Stakes!" He looked to Huey and Sid for support, but the elves shrugged helplessly. Who argued with Santa Claus?

Santa gently stroked Comet's muzzle. "Comet, you are a part of my team and Christmas is only a few days away. I need you. And you've had a wonderful opportunity to live this dream as a racehorse over the past few weeks but it's time to come home."

"But .. but ... my Derby dreams ...," Comet sputtered.

Santa just shook his head.

"Maybe we can come back in January for LeComte?" Huey offered up hopefully.

Santa Claus chuckled, the familiar twinkle returning to his eyes. "No, Huey. Even you know that Christmas Magic only lasts so long. It's time to come home," he repeated. And then looking directly at Sid, he added, "All of you."

Sid grunted. "Well, I kinda did enjoy the snow last week. It really wasn't all that bad."

"Tell you what, Sid. I'll consider opening an OTB parlor after the new year," Santa conceded.

Sid brightened visibly. "Okay, S.C., but can I get out of sorting Lincoln Logs?"

Santa smiled and nodded. Then he directed his attention to his reindeer. "It's time to retire as a racehorse, Comet."

Comet was disappointed. He'd be going back to the North Pole, a permanent frosty winter wonderland with the perpetual odor of peppermints and gingerbread along with the chipper melodies of perky elves. It's not as if he would enjoy the same type of retirement as, say, Curlin.

"Look," said Santa, "you can be Filmore's assistant. You've proven very athletic and competitive as a racehorse. Morning workouts, sprints and routes, turf and dirt. I think you can bring some real spirit to our team."

"What about me?" Huey asked.

Santa thoughtfully rubbed his whiskers. "Why don't you plan on staying here in New Orleans for a few more weeks - keep an eye out for P Val. Keep him out of trouble." Santa looked over to P Val, as he was standing next to his mount, Screen Your Friend. P Val met his gaze, somewhat surprised by the hint of familiarity. He smiled wanly to Santa Claus' wave. "Merry Christmas, P Val!" he called out.

And Merry Christmas to all.