The Greatest Gambling Story Ever Told

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The Greatest Gambling Story Ever Told Page 9

by Mark Paul


  Klein asked, “Wayne, can she still beat the boys?”

  “Damn straight she can,” Lukas replied. “I checked the times of her races and she is running faster than the colts. Goodbye Halo ran her eyeballs out to beat your girl, but remember, Halo had much more experience and seasoning. Your filly will know what to expect next time and will rip Halo’s heart out.”

  Lukas never lacked for enthusiasm. The top quarter horse jockey, Bobby Adair, said of Lukas, “I want to die the same day as Lukas. Because no matter how I screw up before I die, if I arrive at the Pearly Gates with Lukas, I know for sure he can talk the both of us in.”

  What Lukas didn’t know was that Luis was a bit worried that Lukas was training her too hard. Fillies are usually not able to handle the training workload of a mature male thoroughbred, and she was just a 3-year-old, early in her career, with only four starts. Winning Colors became agitated if she wasn’t galloped hard every day by Dallas Stewart, her exercise rider.

  Dallas met with Luis in the late afternoon. “Luis…do you understand? She is getting too high strung for me to handle her in the mornings. I need to be the first rider out with her the moment the track opens for training at 5:00 a.m., when there’s less horse traffic, less noise, and fewer horses for her to attack. She seems to especially be going after the older mares if they get in her way on the way to the track.”

  Luis replied, “They need to stay out of her way, but I will have her ready every morning.”

  Winning Colors was thriving and getting taller and more muscular each month. The other grooms and trainers would come to see her and always left shaking their heads, amazed how big and tall she was. Around the backstretch, she was known as the Amazon.

  From 5:00 a.m. each day, Santa Anita was alive and active as the sun rose over the backstretch, silhouetting the mountains. As the exercise riders took out their charges for jogs or serious workouts, the horses’ warm, moist breaths could be seen exploding into the cold winter air. Continuing to teach Winning Colors how to reserve and rate her energy remained Jeff Lukas’s primary training focus with her each morning. Dallas would position her to run slightly behind another horse and remain there for a half-mile, coaching her to relax before running at her full-speed gallop. Then, in the stretch, he would allow her to accelerate and exert her superiority over her workmate.

  Occasionally, Gary Stevens showed up to ride her in the early workouts. The two had a bond. After a few weeks of working together, Winning Colors showed excitement when she saw Stevens, knowing she would soon escape her stall and gallop around the huge track. He told Jeff Lukas, “I’m beginning to understand her now. She seems to be going too fast early in her training and in races…but she just has an ability to go faster out of the gate than any other horse I have ever been on. We just need to keep her head on straight. If she gets distracted or angry she goes out of whack and then you can’t control her. It’s only her temperament I worry about…never her ability.”

  After her daily morning exercise, Luis would take her for a long walk, and then give her a slow, warm bath, combing her out afterwards until she shone like a new metallic gray sports car. Horsemen know they shouldn’t get too attached to their horses, but Luis couldn’t help himself.

  Jeff Lukas aspired to run his own stable someday, and he found a willing business mentor in Eugene Klein. The two often dined together at a famous Santa Anita steak house, founded in 1922, The Derby. The Saturday evening before Winning Colors’ next start, Klein took Jeff out for drinks and steaks. Jeff had learned that after a few cocktails, Klein would tell colorful stories of his rise to wealth.

  Early in his career, Klein had been known as Cowboy Gene, but he wasn’t really a cowboy. At a towering six-feet-five-inches, he was a gangly kid from the Bronx born to Russian immigrants, who sold encyclopedias door to door as a kid. He was a cocky, brash, and gutsy salesman who parlayed a used car lot with three cheap cars into a Volvo automobile dealership, created a national movie chain with 250 theaters, built an NBA franchise, owned an insurance and banking company, and then leveraged himself into his long-held dream of owning a professional football team. Klein began his career in sales by running Sunday used car commercials on TV while donning a huge cowboy hat and cowboy boots. The persona of Cowboy Gene was a hit, and he never stopped making money from there.

  “I may have been the first Jewish cowboy,” he used to say.

  “What was it like owning your own NFL team?”

  “Initially, I loved it. It had been my dream, even when I owned the Seattle SuperSonics, but I really wanted a football team. But it wasn’t what I expected. For instance…they couldn’t seem to grow grass in our San Diego stadium. How can they not grow decent grass in Southern California, but they can do it in friggin’ Green Bay? Then things went downhill fast for me….” He stopped telling his story to order another Macallan 21, then continued. “The players caused problems.”

  “Off the field?”

  “One day head coach Don Coryell came to me and said, ‘Mr. Klein we have a big problem with Jones.’”

  Klein took a sip and went on, “I tell him, ‘We always have a problem with Jones. What the hell is it now?’ Coryell tells me Jones won’t play unless I give him a Cadillac. Says he is as important to the team as the owner and the owner drives a Cadillac and he needs one too. We had been dealing with Jones’ erratic behavior for two years, but this was a new twist. The thing is Jones was one of the best running backs in the league and without him, we had no chance to win the game. So I tell him, ‘Coach, what do you think we should do? Is he serious about this or just Jones being Jones again?’”

  Lukas kept quiet. He knew Klein trusted him with these kinds of stories.

  “Coach tells me, ‘Boss, I hate to say this, but I really don’t think he will play if he doesn’t get that car. And I know you don’t want to hear this again, but he really is underpaid.’”

  Klein shifted in his seat and leaned forward. “Well, I had a well-earned reputation of never re-negotiating a contract. But, after years of failure on the field, I needed that weekend’s win. I was really getting pissed. I said, ‘Coach, I’m friggin’ paying him what he friggin’ signed up to play for…for God’s sakes. I have run businesses from car dealerships to theater chains. Never once did one of my goddamn employees come to me and demand to have a new expensive car delivered to him immediately or he wouldn’t come to work the next day! God damn him!’”

  “So what happened?”

  “I gave in…bought him a new baby blue, Landau top Cadillac, with silver chrome wheels. Jones ran for 110 yards that weekend, but we lost the damn game anyway.”

  Klein finished his drink and ordered another.

  “What made you finally sell the team?”

  “So many damn things. The press was always against us. The agents knew how to spin it and make me look bad. They’d heard Dan Fouts wanted to stay in San Diego, but I wouldn’t pay him. And I was paying him...exactly what his contract said he should be paid! The absolute worst agent was Howard Slusher. We called him Agent Orange because of his hair and his personality. It started bad for him! Slusher tried re-negotiating the contract for the league’s leading receiver, John Jefferson. The contract was $100,000 per year, plus friggin’ incentives that had paid him an additional $85,000 in the same year. I got pissed and told our general manger to trade him the next day to Green Bay! I was just sending a message to all the other players. If you want to play in sunny San Diego for the Chargers, honor your damn contract!”

  “What would you tell the agents when they tried to re-negotiate their existing contacts?”

  “That was the fun part! I would just tell ‘em, ‘If he doesn’t want to play, I wish him a great deal of luck in his new career, whatever it might be!’”

  After their meal of thick steaks, Klein paid the check and looked at Jeff. He said, “Probably it was the NFL owners that finally made me just want to sell. Some of these damn owners never did anything right in their lives except inherit t
heir parents’ money. They didn’t think like businessmen, they didn’t act like businessmen, and they didn’t care if they made money! Al Davis is a total jerk.”

  “Racing’s gain, Mr. Klein.”

  “Really Jeff, it was Joyce who got me to sell the team and introduced me to your dad. He and I are really quite alike, Jeff…afraid of nothing!”

  March 13, 1988, Santa Anita Racetrack, California

  Even though the sky was overcast on the day of the Santa Anita Oaks race, the fans came pouring into the track early to get prime viewing spots for what was being called a match race. There were only four horses running. Most fans now believed that Goodbye Halo was a superhorse and she was being selected to win by most of the newspaper handicappers. Dino and Miami had gone to their good friend, racing author, and professional handicapper, Jay Quest, for his race insights. Quest had written several of the most respected handicapping books in the industry, and they valued his opinions.

  When asked about Goodbye Halo versus Winning Colors, Quest told them, “I have often seen top fast fillies; when they are first challenged in a race by another top-class filly, they may fail quite badly in that race. But I usually have seen them bounce back from the experience and run the best races of their young lives next time. I think Winning Colors just has too much talent as evidenced by her blazing early speed. Boys, stay with Colors, and good luck with your Mexico bet.”

  “I hope we’re not going to be rich dead men from the cartel guys,” Miami told Quest.

  Racetrack bettors are almost always thought of as colorful characters with nicknames like, well, Miami. Many teachers, professors, and individuals interested in mathematics are drawn to horseracing. Studying a Daily Racing Form’s past performance newspaper, and then projecting out a race’s winner, was an academic challenge for many extremely educated and bright people like Quest.

  Miami and Dino’s handicapping hero was a former college professor, Tim Raymond. Tim taught them how to use numbers to estimate how fast horses would likely race, while going different distances they had not previously run. He had helped both Dino and Miami have many of their biggest winning days. When Miami asked Tim what he thought of Winning Colors’ race day chances, Tim replied, “Colors is better than Halo. Keep the faith.”

  The fans came to bet Goodbye Halo back off her win, and she was bet down to solid favoritism, well below even money. That day’s Stakes was run at one-and-one-sixteenth miles, a sixteenth of a mile farther than their previous race together. This made fans and gamblers believe that more distance could only help Goodbye Halo’s late charge. Meanwhile, Winning Colors was being relatively ignored in the betting in the four-horse race; she was offered at over 2-1 odds in the short field.

  Other top fillies were reluctant to race against the big two horses for fear of being embarrassed. Dino and Miami were now very respectful of Goodbye Halo’s winning chances in the championship filly race, but at the current odds, they believed Winning Colors was a steal.

  “I feel like we already have $5,000 to win on her because of our Mexico bet, and today is do-or-die for the Derby. Still, at 2-1, we have to bet more on her,” Dino said as they went to the large transaction windows, betting $2,000 to win on today’s race.

  Luis was smiling as he led Winning Colors into the saddling paddock. His filly was dramatically taller and bigger, by nearly 200 pounds, than the other young fillies. She walked around the saddling enclosure in front of the fans, now five persons deep, trying to get a look at the two-star fillies.

  Goodbye Halo was trained by a man nicknamed “The Bald Eagle” Charles Whittingham, a Hall of Fame trainer, and ridden again by Pat Day, a star veteran jockey with more experience than Gary Stevens, who once again was piloting Klein’s gray filly. When Winning Colors saw Goodbye Halo, she became agitated and snorted. She whirled repeatedly on her hindquarters, trying to break away from Luis’ firm hand on her lead. He had not seen her like this before a race and was worried she would break free or use up her energy before the race had begun. The fans tried to be quiet to not startle the horses, but they were still loud as they strained to see their favorites.

  The steward announced, “Riders up,” a signal to the trainers to give a leg up to the jockeys on the four fillies. The fans roared when the horses entered to parade in front of the grandstand and began their warm ups. The gray lady settled down for Stevens as soon as he gave her the freedom to canter down the backstretch in her pre-race warm up routine.

  Dino and Miami knew that Winning Colors had to win this race, or she would not make the Kentucky Derby, period. She was still not the fan’s betting favorite. More than three times as much was bet on Goodbye Halo than Winning Colors.

  The four fillies entered the starting gate. At the bell, both star fillies broke like bullets out of a gun, with Winning Colors being sent to the lead by Stevens as they ripped into the left-hand first turn. Stevens didn’t have to ask her to run as Winning Colors was cruising at a high rate of speed on her own courage. She opened up down the backstretch by three lengths while running next to the rail, as Goodbye Halo was pushed by Pat Day to not let her get away.

  Both Goodbye Halo and the filly Jeanne Jones took up the chase and got nearly on even terms with Winning Colors. Goodbye Halo was squeezed for a moment and bobbled slightly, between Jeanne Jones and Winning Colors. It looked for a moment like Goodbye Halo would be forced to take up, but she was spirited and gunned forward through the smallest of openings by Day until the two-star fillies now were head to head. Their jockeys pushed their charges forward harder. They quickly put away Jeanne Jones, who fell back as the two favorites engaged much earlier than in the previous race when Goodbye Halo waited to charge late in the stretch to her victory. Goodbye Halo was trying to beat Winning Colors at her own game, with blazing early speed!

  Gary Stevens looked a full head higher than Pat Day and the other jockeys as he thrust his hands aggressively forward into her gray mane. The beautiful animal responded by lengthening all of her long, full body into the first turn. The interior quarter- and half-mile fractions set were wickedly fast, much faster than they had set in their last match when Winning Colors tired and faded to second.

  Miami saw the quarter-mile and half-mile fractions blink on the tote board, 22-and-two-fifths and 44-and-four-fifths seconds and shouted to Dino over the crowd noise, “They are going way too damn fast for the distance! Those are sprinters’ fractions. Can they go that fast and survive? They could both get beat by the closers.”

  Winning Colors edged away just slightly. Goodbye Halo was pushed by her jockey, now urging his filly with his arms. He was asking her to pick up the pace and not let the gray filly steal away from her. Goodbye Halo dug back in and lowered her head in determination, trying valiantly to stay with the gray filly, but Day could tell she could not match strides with Winning Colors. The early fractions had cooked Goodbye Halo from the inside, as she could not sustain such a fast pace. As she tired, Stevens sensed now was the time to take command of the race. He was hand riding Winning Colors, urging her on, chirping to her, “Go girl…go girl.” He never touched his whip. Winning Colors pulled away from Goodbye Halo by four, then five, then seven, then eight dominating lengths as she annihilated the field strung out behind her. Goodbye Halo was now exhausted from trying to keep pace with the huge gray filly; she was caught for second, beaten by an astounding 10 lengths to the wire by Winning Colors.

  Stevens raised his whip triumphantly at the wire!

  Luis was beaming as he grabbed her halter minutes later and led her panting and glistening with sweat, for her winner’s photo with the jubilant party of Klein, Joyce, and friends. A thoroughbred racehorse after a race has capillaries fully engaged with blood, and with her veins standing out on her long, tall, silver-gray shining body, Winning Colors was a beautiful and intimidating 1,200-pound glorious, but sweaty animal.

  Lukas was ecstatic as he held the heavy silver Santa Anita Oaks trophy over his head with two hands. Now he was sure there was truly a supe
rhorse in his barn.

  Miami and Dino were jubilant as they watched the owners celebrate in the winner’s circle and accept the Santa Anita Oaks 1988 trophy.

  Dino said, “One more California victory against the colts next month and she’ll qualify for the Kentucky Derby! The Santa Anita Derby is next. Look at Mr. Klein. If he is ever going to win the Derby, he has to do it soon.”

  “Super Dino, you are right,” Miami said. “I think the only trainer in all of California that would run her against the best males in the country is Lukas. He is not afraid to beat the boys with girls, and Winning Colors is just faster than them. I really believe that now, too. Dino you were right, baby! Please Mr. Lukas, tell us soon she will go against the boys in the Santa Anita Derby and then on to the Kentucky Derby!”

  They found out two days later that Klein and Lukas had entered Winning Colors in both the Kentucky Oaks and the Kentucky Derby. The owner and trainer were keeping their options open as to where she should run next.

  Dino and Miami still had to sweat out getting their girl into the big dance.

  Late the following Wednesday night, Dino got a call from his favorite librarian. What she told him made him sit down and become seriously afraid for their lives. The Tijuana reporter who’d been reporting on Jorge Hank Rhon, El Gato, had been targeted. The windows of his office had been shattered by machine gun fire. Apparently writing articles on Rhon and associated cartel figures was infuriating for those being written about and they sent him a terrifying message with a hail of gunfire. El Gato was not at the office and was unharmed. The journalist was certain that the cartel was sending him a message to stop writing negative articles on Rhon.

 

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