Archive for May, 2007

May 28, 2007: 10:38 pm: bcbc's playhouse, The Monday Morning Crew Chief

Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m watching 500 minutes of live auto racing over Memorial Day Weekend Sunday - the Longest Day of Televised Motorsports.

My personal green flag waves at 8:00 AM EST with the Monaco GP live from Monte Carlo on the SPEED Channel, followed by the Indianapolis 500 coverage starting at noon on ABC/ESPN, concluding with the Coca-Cola 600 NASCAR event starting at 5 PM in Charlotte, NC on FOX. Die-hard auto racing fans have 1270 miles of top-flight motorsports to watch today over the course of 16 mind-bending hours.  

It may sound easy, but watching this much automotive competition in a single day is not as simple as sitting on a couch and trying not to fall asleep. It’s a gruelling exercise that demands dedication, focus, and serious conditioning in order to avoid the pitfalls that 3,804 turns of the steering wheel by 98 racing drivers over the course of 678 laps can exert on the viewer. [That’d be me.]

My Memorial Day 500 Living Room Preparation Checklist:

  • Port-a-John installed in the living room with the door facing the TV, so I don’t have to miss any of the action. I’ve removed the door itself to save time (plus, the door makes a dandy stretcher for removing comatose friends later). Bedpans under the couch and NASA-spec adult diapers as backups. Nothing is too good for the greatest sporting events in the world, IMO.
  • Case of Red Bull energy drink. Red Bull sponsors cars and drivers in all three races, and if you ask why I need that much, I would ask if you’ve ever tried to watch this much racing on TV while fighting to remain conscious. Trust me on this.
  • George Foreman Grill. I can make breakfast, lunch and dinner on it, and it does not fill the house with smoke and fumes like the gas grill I used a few years ago (I can still see the section of living room ceiling I had to replace, too.
  • Large cooler iced up and ready to go with vodka, Budweiser beer, 12 oz. filet mignon steaks, potato salad, bratwurst, fruit salad, 1 bottle 1998 Bollinger Blanc de Noire champagne (Villes Vignes Francaise, naturally), 1 gallon whole milk, liter Coca-Cola classic, liter Pepsi, Pepto Bismol.
  • Mini-fridge/freezer containing frozen waffles and scrapple. Dedicating oneself to the pursuit of sport does not mean giving up the finer points of western civilization.
  • Kahlua, amaretto, and Bailey’s for the coffee, Mr. & Mrs. T’s Bloody Mary mix
  • 10 sticks ammonium carbonate smelling salts
  • Spare TV remote and extra batteries
  • Open-faced helmet, chinstrap buckled, HANS device attached, drink tube and radio plugged in
  • SFI/FIA -spec racing fire suit on and zipped, driving shoes on and laced with heat shields installed on the heels
  • 5000 watt generator fueled up and ready to go, just in case of a power failure
  • Loaf of Wonder Bread
  • 5 lb. cashews
  • 1 box Power Bars
  • Large can Wasabi Peas
  • 1 Box Tucks medicated pads
  • 1 case Charmin Ultra Toilet Paper
  • Old Grant GT steering wheel for demonstrating air driving prowess
  • Shoebox full of used brake pads
  • Floor and walls covered with classic-style blue tarp

My Memorial Day 500 Log as follows:  

Monaco, 8:00 AM EST scheduled start:

7:40 AM (pre-race): Chef Gordon Ramsay, and actors Jean Reno and Jude Law floating around the grid before the start. Giant yachts in the harbor with rich famous beautiful people on them. Diamond-encrusted racing helmets. Can’t wait to dig into the scrapple.

7:52: Can we stop talking about how tight this racetrack is for these cars? I’m already nervous enough about having to get a colonoscopy…

8:00: I’m suited up and ready to go. Chinstrap buckled, steering wheel in hand, remote in my lap. Let’s go! 

8:03: Green light, all the cars are off from the standing start. No accidents or parts flying off during the first lap; what is this? I’ve seen more exciting Friday 4 PM starts in the office parking lot. Coffee and Kaluha halfway gone.

8:05: Toro Rosso driver Liuzzi hits the wall. My colon twinges in empathy. Liuzzi walks away, he’s OK. Not sure my colon’s going to walk away from this one, though.

8:17: I’ll admit it: I have a man-crush on rookie phenom and current season points leader Lewis Hamilton (running second in his McLaren-Mercedes at the moment). The guy is dreamy. And he has fast, confident, precise hands…

8:26: Frozen waffles in the toaster, scrapple on the Foreman grill next to me here, having my first Bloody Mary of the day. All is well in my world.

8:38: Hamilton took the lead when teammate and leader Alonso went into the pits for fuel and tires. I’m watching with my nose about 1 inch from the screen. He’s sliding the car all over the place. Glorious.

8:44: Formula 1 cars look like they were assembled by over-caffienated grade-schoolers. Appendages and flaps and winglets festooned upon them like the kids found extra parts in the box and lost the instructions as to where everything goes. As if they’d read them in the first place (I didn’t). Those cars don’t slip gracefully through the air as much as shred it like a cheese grater in order to scape every sliver, every ounce of aerodynamic downforce out of it. Back to coffee and Kahlua, finishing off the scrapple.

8:58: I love Hondas, but their F1 cars are a: slow, and b: painted in an environmentally friendly map of the world as part of their “My Earth Dream” eco-awareness media campaign. Gasoline-burning racing cars for the environment? I don’t know if this is genius or stupid, but the cars don’t look good in any sense of the word.

9:07: I love scrapple. I really do. And I don’t care how environmentally friendly it is to my digestive system. And I still look fantastic.

9:19: Hamilton’s caught up to Alonso.

9:24: Hamilton bounced the right front tire off of a wall. How did he got away with that one, I don’t know. But I think he’s resigned to 2nd place, which would be a smart move.

9:35: Just completed my own personal pit stop in under 22 seconds from pit-in to exit. I think I could go professional.

9:40: Whoops, I’m supposed to be writing something here, aren’t I?

9:46: Race is over. Alonso first, Hamilton second, Massa third in his Ferrari. Just like they started. Is it any wonder that F1 has a difficult time finding a large audience in the US?

9:47: How cool is it that the Grimaldi family’s Royal Box at Monaco is right next to the racetrack with red-carpeted steps leading up from the racing surface to the box? You wouldn’t see a Presidential Box next to the wall at Bristol TN, that’s for sure. Princess Caroline still looks great, even standing next to Hamilton.

9:53: I’ve opened the ‘98 Bollinger Blanc de Noire and am spraying it all over the living room in celebration. Whee! Hey, don’t shove that thing down my pants! I’d like to drink a little of it at least! Plus, it’s cold.

10:25: Finishing off the pot of coffee, alternating cups between amaretto and Kahlua. Please don’t mind if I nap a bit. It’s going to be a long day.

Indy 500:

12:47 PM: Grilling the brats on the Foreman, drinking another Bloody Mary, life is good. 

12:58: How great is it that 10% of the drivers in the Indy 500 are women? Why Hillary Clinton’s people do not have her here to shake hands with Danica Patrick, Sarah Fisher and Milka Duno (and maybe driver Dario Franchitti’s wife, actress Ashley Judd), I have no idea. Or if she *is* here, it’s a secret to me. Finished my drink and my first brat, and I’m feelin’ groovy.   

1:04: Jim Nabors singing “Back Home Again in Indiana” never fails to bring tears to my eyes, especially when I think about how badly Sgt. Carter treated him.  Unfortunately, Nabors is ill and can’t sing today. The band plays on.

1:08: Indianpolis Colts quarterback Peyton Manning throws the green flag for the field. I’m sure someone’s being paid to keep two hands on him to keep him from falling off of the starters’ tower. He’s a valuable commodity. I wonder if Manning filmed a commerical while he was up there? I’m expecting there to be a TV ad featuring Manning visiting a men’s room at some point (I hope he remembers to wash his hands).

A clean start to the race, polesitter Helio Castroneves and Tony Kanaan are already dogfighting at the front of the 33-car field. It’s going to be a long day, these guys sure are getting racy awful early. Well, they’re both Brazilian, aren’t they? Having a big handful of cashews from the bowl with a vodka and Red Bull.  

1:21: The first yellow flag of the race is thrown when a mirror falls off of John Andretti’s car. How many Andrettis are in this field anyway? 3? 5? 13? I dream of a day when when all the drivers in the field are women and/or Andrettis. I’m having a big handful of Wasabi peas with a second vodka & Red Bull. Yowza! That woke me up.  

1:34: You know, 300,000 people at a single sporting event is a lot of people. Though I’m including the guys in the turn 3 infield who have the “t*ts 4 beer” signs, where the term ‘people’ may be applied loosely and only in a strictly genetic sense. I think.

1:49: As good as the racing at Indy is, it is a little weird to me that all of the cars in the field have the same Honda engine, and 90% of them the same Dallara chassis. All of the chassis fit a very tight technical specification, and deviation is penalized. The Indy 500 used to be a hotbed of technical innovation, a place where engineers could develop and manifest new ideas in metal and rubber and composite materials, and see if they would really work. Heck, Ray Harroun won the first Indy 500 in 1911 (back when the Speedway was paved with 2.5 miles of bricks) with a technical innovation fitted to his Marmon Wasp, the very first recorded use of a rearview mirror on a car. This innovation allowed Harroun to build and race a smaller and lighter car than his competitors, who followed the custom of the time by carrying riding mechanics to keep an eye on other race cars on the track. Now the Indy 500 is part of the tightly controlled Indy Racing League series, which some liken to an open-wheeled version of NASCAR. The racing is good, but for many, the magic is gone. Indianapolis Motor Speedway President Tony George appears on the screen, and I toss my first brake pad of the day at him in protest.

2:00: Uh oh, Milka Duno’s spun and smacked the wall. She seems OK, thank goodness. I salute Ms. Duno with a shot of vodka and a scrapple sandwich (I had saved a piece of scrapple from earlier).

2:21: Suffering from bleary temporal disorientation here. Lap after lap. Eyes rolling back in my head. Going to try to relax and pace myself. Thinking of the threes in the Indy 500 here: three Andrettis, three women drivers in the field, three Panoz chassis. Does this mean something…? Three IS a magic number, after all. At least accoring to “Schoolhouse Rock,” anyway. And the Catholic Church, too, now that I think about it…

3:03: Whoops, nodded off there. What time is it? How many laps did I miss?

3:09: Holy smokes, it’s raining at the Speedway, and they’ve stopped the race. Wha-? Kanaan is currently scored in the lead from Marco Andretti with Danica Patrick in 3rd. They’ve stopped the race after 113 laps - over halfway -  so if it does not stop raining today, the race would be classified as complete and Kanaan awarded the win. I’m throwing a brake pad at myself in protest, which clanks off of my helmet. How did I let this happen?  

3:22: If the race does resume today, it’s going to take roughly 2 hours to dry the track enough for racing to resume. I have to confront the Sum of All Fears here.

If they restart the race, it will overlap the start of the Coca-Cola 600 NASCAR. I swallow deeply and pray. Almost as feverently as Tony Kanaan, I think. But I’ll drink more than Tony, that’s for sure. Do they have rain dances in Brazil? 

4:00: Well, it’s stopped raining, so they’re saying that the 500 should get back underway around 6:00 PM. Argh. The 600 starts at 5:00 PM. This should get interesting. Please excuse me, I’m going to the Port-a-John to think. Taking the vodka with me. And the cashews.

4:49: They’re making progress drying the Brickyard out. Looks like I’m going to have to switch back and forth between races for awhile. This could get messy. I have the steering wheel in my left hand, and the remote in my right, and the Big Race Fan in the Sky on my side.

Coca-Cola 600 at Charlotte:

5:07 PM: The 43-car field takes the green flag, I pop the top on a Budweiser, and put a couple of filet mignon on the Foreman grill. Earnhardt Jr.’s car painted in desert camoflage. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I bet his fans love it.

5:19: I have to open the box of Tucks for one of the overly emotional Jeff Gordon haters here. Now that I think about it, I’d bet there’s a marketing opportunity for Tucks pads emblazoned with the #24. And if Pfizer could get Earnhardt Jr. to endorse them…(Ad text: “Send the #24 back to the garage where he belongs…”)

5:33: The NASCAR boys are driving like they’ve got to go 600 miles tonight, and are taking it easy, but the racing’s pretty good and the passing is clean. We’ll see how long that lasts. Charlotte’s a wide track, it’s tempting for drivers to stick their nose into places that they shouldn’t. Back in the day, Dale Earnhardt Sr. held off Bill Elliott by driving flat out side-by-side across one of the grass verges in front of the pit grandstands (possible because the track is shaped like a “D” with squared corners), keeping the inside line when he made it back onto the pavement. I expect trouble later, Charlotte’s that kind of place.

Indy 500, 5:46: They’re rolling the cars back onto the track at Indy, expecting a 6:00 restart. Tony Kanaan’s at a disadvantage here, as the cars behind him - his teammates Marco Andretti and Danica Patrick - are going to be able to slingshot by at the start. Tony, you’re leading the Indy 500, but it kinda sucks to be you at the moment, big guy. I’m eating another filet, a big bowl of fruit salad, and a Red Bull in your honor, sir. But I’m pulling for Danica to win.

Charlotte, 5:52: Nothing much happening here. Well, except for the NASCAR markeing machines which are plugging along, trying to get me to buy more Budweiser and Hemi-powered Dodge Chargers. Not a good combo, that.

Indy, 5:59: They’ve restarted the 500 at lap 114, and there’s a lot of jostling for postion in the pack on a slippery track (all of the rubber put down on the track from the earlier racing has been washed away by the rain). Well, they are expecting more rain, so this may be a short sprint for the cash. I smell trouble.

Charlotte, 6:26: There’s a big pileup, 12 or 15 cars involved. Yellow flag out. Doesn’t look too serious, but there’s plenty of bent sheet metal and blown tires. Jimmie Johnson, Tony Stewart, Juan Montoya and others involved. Looks like everyone’s OK, thank goodness. Cleanup proceeding apace. I wish they could cleanup after Beltway fender-benders that quickly. 

Indy, 6:30: Looks like more rain is heading towards the Speedway. Most of the leaders are heading to the pits for fuel and tires, but Dario Franchitti stays out because he had to pit a little earlier due to a punctured tire. This race might just land in his lap (please note that I made no mention of Dario’s lap and/or Ashley Judd, other than to say that Dario’s lap might be a very busy place this evening) because he does not need to stop for fuel anytime soon. Good racing going on out there, people trying very hard to make up ground after pitstops.

Indy, 6:36: Whoops, Tony Kanaan and Jacques Lazier touch, Lazier taps the outside wall and Kanaan spins off to the inside in a lazy 360 but does not hit anything. Yellow flag here, too. Nice catch, Tony, but I don’t think it’s going to be your day. 

Charlotte, 6:37: Jeez, another big crash on the green flag restart. Jeff Gordon gets hit pretty hard as he’s spinning and the car lifts completely off the ground for a moment. He walks away, but he does not look very happy at the cheers and jeers he’s hearing from the stands. Some people love to hate, and I don’t get it. What’s so funny ’bout peace love and understanding? 

Indy, 6:45: It’s getting dark at Indy, rain clouds are moving in as they race on. Marco Andretti can’t see out of his right side mirror and moves right on the back straight, accidentally touching Dan Wheldon’s car. Andretti’s car flips over and skids down the track a bit before flipping back over in the grass and landing right side up. That’s scary. Marco walks a little shakily to the ambulance for the free trip to the infield hospital (at least he doesn’t have to drive). I’m glad he’s OK.

Indy, 6:49: It’s starting to pour buckets of rain at Indianapolis, and they’ve shown the yellow flag. The field is circulating slowly behind the pace car, as it does not take much provocation to spin a 700 hp race car with slick tires in a deluge. Will they show the checkered flag to Dario and give him the victory? Ashley Judd, getting drenched along the pit wall (and becoming more fetching by the second) in a beautiful flower print dress and hat that wouldn’t be out of place at the Kentucky Derby, sure hopes they do.

Indy, 6:53: They give the chekered flag to Dario Franchitti at lap 166 in the pouring rain, Ashley Judd is soaked and overjoyed and telling the TV people how proud she is of her man. Nice touch for her to mention that she and Dario are thinking of F1 ace/Indy 500 winner and fellow Scot Jimmy Clark, who passed away around the time she was born. Dario, buddy, I can see why you think she’s a keeper.

Indy, 6:59: Dario pulls into a makeshift victory lane in a garage. Ashley kises him while he’s still in the cockpit, then he stands up in the car and takes a big swig of the traditional Indy 500 winner’s milk. I spray about half of my gallon of milk all over the living room in celebration of Franchitti’s win, and dump the other half of it over my head and body, drenching myself in sympathy with Ms. Judd.

Franchitti’s teammates Tony Kanaan, Danica Patrick and Michael Andretti (who also happens to be one of the team owners) each come over for hugs and kisses (All of them. Really.) and in Kanaan’s case, some quick tears of joy. This sure ain’t NASCAR, is it?

Whew. Two races down, one to go.

Charlotte, 7:17: What the heck is going on here? Brian Vickers’ Red Bull Toyota is leading this here all-American race. I put down my Budweiser and mix up another Red Bull and vodka.

7:36: The Fox network is running a commerical for their NASCAR coverage that features a pack of Nextel Cup cars racing around a track on a stellar accretion disk or a planetary ring system in deep space. It looks good, but the idea that Cup cars are high-tech spaceships is somewhat amusing to me, in that their basic technology and architecture is roughly 45 years old. The incongruity of a spacecraft constructed of steel tubing and sheetmetal with a carburetor to send an air fuel mix into combustion chambers and a live axle suspension system is making me snort Red Bull out of my nose here. On the other hand, we sent men to the moon on 1960s technology, and the Russian space program is still using the same boosters and spacecraft they flew 40 years ago. Perhaps NASCAR is the equivalent of the Russian space program with a much better marketing department. I wonder when they’ll start painting Russian rockets orange with big “Home Depot” lettering along the sides (and a TV ad with Tony Stewart working as a do-it-yourself rocket scientist), and have cosmonauts wearing spacesuits done up in sponsor colors and logos. Someday we may hear this on the NASA/ESPN 235 channel: “Well, the Jim Beam Soyuz was running pretty good today, we made our rendezvous with the Lowe’s ISS in a bit under 18 hours, so we cut some good quick orbits there, thanks to the Energia crew back home and Chevrolet…” Ha, that’s some daydream…

9:50: Whoops, nodded off there. What day is it? Plunge my face into the cooler to wake up. Two hours? Ay, carrumba. Well, if I had stayed awake, the French would have accused me of doping like Floyd Landis.

9:51: Hey, Tony Stewart is leading. Wasn’t he involved in an accident a couple of hours ago? Pretty cool. I wonder if Tony’s going to call his insurance agent to make a claim on those fenders.

10:25: The leaders can’t make it to the finish with the fuel they have and are peeling off and pitting for more with just a few laps left. It’s down to Casey Mears, JJ Yeley, and, of all people, Kyle Petty, all of whom took a fuel conservation strategy early for this very reason. Who says NASCAR has no application to driving on the street? Can’t everyone coast nonstop for 20 or 30 miles on their way to work?

10:28: Casey Mears is going slow, slow, slow to save fuel. Can he go slow enough to win?

10:29: Mears was able to go slow enough to win. How great is that? He runs out of gas on the cooldown lap, so there won’t be any celebratory tire-smoking burnouts in front of the grandstand tonight.

Which is fine by me.

I dump a can of Budweiser over my head, eat a last piece of Wonder Bread, and go to bed, knowing that I’ve won the day. Again.

But I’m going to smell awful tomorrow.

bc 

Copyright by the author 2007, all rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

May 20, 2007: 10:47 pm: bcbc's playhouse

I read my friend Joel Achenbach’s “Why We Keep on Truckin’” column in the Washington Post today, and it got me thinking about buying a new car.

But what new car? What do I want in a new car? [Aside from me, of course.]

Um, I want it to have that rich new car smell of plastics and organic compounds outgassing semi-toxic chemicals into the cabin air. Mmmmm.

I don’t ever want to have to put gas in it. I want it to be an electric car capable of carrying a family of 4 and all their luggage for a weekend trip for 500 miles at 75 mph through the mountains before needing a 4-hour recharge from a U.S. standard 120V AC electrical outlet. [No, that luggage requirement does not include the golf clubs - I’m not an unreasonable man.] But I’m willing to settle for a matter/antimatter hybrid that will go 100,000 miles before the Dilithium Crystals need to be replaced.

I want it to have the interior space of a Honda Odyssey minivan, yet be about the size of a Mazda MX-5 Miata. Oh, and if they could make it convert to a sweet little 2-seat convertible like that Miata for my drives to and from work, it’ll save me the trouble of needing a new car when my mid-life crisis hits. [Update 5/21: Yes, you Dr. Who fans, I was engaging in some “dimensionally transcendental” meditation when I thought of this. But I still want it to look like a Miata or a Lotus Elan, not a Police Car. I’m no Road Lord from Gallifrey, you know.]

I want it to be able to go from 0-60 mph in under 6 seconds, steam the rest of the way through a quarter mile in less than 13 seconds and be able to tow at least 12,000 pounds. [I was going to suggest 15,000 lb. towing capacity, but again, I’m not completely unreasonable] 

A few last requirements:

It should cost less than $20,000.

It should produce no toxic emissions whatsoever.

If should have a stain-resistant interior.

It should be able to fly over traffic jams. If this means I have to replace the Dilithium Crystals a little more frequently, I’m OK with that.

bc

Copyright by the author 2007, all rights reserved.

May 5, 2007: 11:08 pm: bcbc's playhouse

First, a confession:

I don’t watch the Kentucky Derby or the Triple Crown every year. Frankly, I’m just a little spoiled. I watched Secretariat mop up the Derby, Preakness, and Belmont fields back in ‘73, and I don’t think there will ever be another racehorse as good as that one. It might just be the rose-colored glasses through which I view my youth, or all the Robitussin cough syrup I drank when mom wasn’t looking (This would explain why I felt like I was hung over for the entire decade of my 20s. On the other hand, it could have been the Reagan and GH Bush Administrations).

Anyway, regular readers know that I never watch any TV without Adequate Preparation, so let me describe what I’ve done to this point:

* Cooler filled with 5 Gallons of Mint Julep made with bc’s secret recipe [takes 2 days to make, including 2 hours to harvest the mint leaves], in 20 single-serving wide-mouth mason jars (quart size)

* Dressed myself in a Minnie Pearl outfit I “won” on eBay. I’m leaving the tag on the hat, I don’t care if it is the Kentucky Derby; it’s my living room.

* Porta-John set up with door opening facing the TV, just in case.

* 1 bag fresh pork rinds, in a feedbag.

* Bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

* 4 dozen red roses; 3 dozen petals scattered across the room and furniture, one dozen set up in the Porta John, in case I really have to make a Run for the Roses.

bc’s Kentucky Derby Race Notes:

5:37 PM: Bob Costas refers to horse racing as “the sport of Kings,” but they’re making a big deal about the Queen being there for the first time. Hello, where’s Don? He’s the King I want to see on the Derby Red Carpet parade. Or perhaps Richard Petty, who has some pretty nifty hats himself. First mouthful of pork rinds, drain half of the first Mason jar of Mint Julep.

5:39 PM: Drain the second half of Julep, hitch up my skirt and head for the Porta John.

5:43 PM: I think there should be some sort of Racehorse Naming Conventions employed. “Iamawildandcrazyguy” would be an indicator that the person naming this horse is most certainly not. Why not just start picking words out of a dictionary?

5:45 PM: Finish second Mint Julep, and open third. Adjust my hat, and try to focus on the horses and odds. Something tells me that the folks that clean out the stable for “Scat Daddy” have asked for a big raise at some point. This reminds me, time for some of that KFC.

5:48 PM: The Derby Infield looks interesting, but it’s probably not quite as interesting as the Pimlico infield for the Preakness. Or as we used to call it, The Freakness. You never know whose clothes you’re going to be wearing when you leave that day. Or what they’re soaked in. 

5:50 PM: Oops, spilled a little of my 4th Julep down my dress. I still look drop dead gorgeous, and have the Right Hat for the day. Almost choked on a chicken bone. Shouldn’t there be a product warning on KFC boxes? Something like, “Warning: Chicken Bones may constitute a choking hazard. Do not eat chicken bones.” After all, McDonald’s has to put a warning on coffee cups to remind people that “coffee is hot.”

5:53 PM: After my 5th Mint Julep, NBC Announcer Tom Hammond looks to me like an animatronic Cabbage Patch doll with a weird wig. Bob Costas looks and sounds like a million bucks, though. Back to the feedbag for more pork rinds. Mmmmmm.

5:56 PM: Wha -? They’re saying that Dominican became a better horse after being gelded. Dominican probably became a better online poker player, too. Might even have the extra time and interest to work at the Bush White House. After all, without opposable thumbs, how many jobs could he be qualified for?   

5:59 PM: I love the trumpet call to the post. I’m considering getting a trumpet and starting office meetings this way. Starting on Julep #7. Whee!

6:00 PM: The University of Louisville marching band is playing “My Old Kentucky Home,” NBC is captioning the song lyrics, synched to the music. I’m singing along at the top of my lungs to the bouncing Mint Julep. Oh, wait. That bouncing Julep is the one in my hand, waving back and forth like I’m in a Bavarian Beer Hall.

Having everyone sing along is a lot better than listening to Jim Nabors sing “Back Home Again in Indiana” before the Indy 500. Almost infinitely better.

6:06 PM: They’re putting the horses and jockeys into the starting gate, giving each an introduction like they’re starting players on NFL Super Bowl teams. I note that the horse “Any Given Saturday” gave a little Ray Lewis-esque shake ‘n bake after his intro. But that could just be the 9th Mint Julep playing tricks on me.

6:10 PM: Made a quick call to my bookie to put money on Liquidity. It’s a 30-1 shot, but I like the name. A quick thought as I’m snacking here: KFC should offer a special chicken coating recipe that includes pork rinds. How great would that sound coming out of a speaker at a drive-through: ”How do you want that 2 piece dinner: Regular, Extra-Crispy, or Pork Rind?” 

6:14 PM: And they’re off! Wow, 20 horses is a big field. NBC’s head-on shot of the start gives me some appreciation of what former Houston Texans Quarterback David Carr used to see heading his way on Sunday afternoons. And why he went to play for the Carolina Panthers just as fast as his agent could get him there.

Anyway, prereace favorite Street Sense is lollygagging back in 19th, with Iamawildandcrazyguy. What do those Vegas odds makers know, anyway?

6:15 PM: Hard Spun is up front, but Street Sense just passed half the field in what seems like three strides. Or in about a half a Julep, if you chose to measure time that way.

6:16 PM: Street Sense has engaged the Warp Drive and blown past the field, like Floyd Lands in the Alps during last year’s Tour de France. Speaking of which, are they going to be waiting for Street Sense with sealed stainless steel bucket and direction for him to “please fill this?” 

When jockey Calvin Borel waved to fans on the front stretch as Street Sense sped to the finish line, I screamed “No!” Doesn’t Borel remember Nigel Mansell waving to fans while leading final race lap of the 1991 Canadian Grand Prix, accidentally stalling the car, and losing the race? You don’t wave until after it’s over. Ever.

Besides, it’s plain old showboating, and the other 19 horses and jockeys probably consider the action in bad taste. 

6:17 PM: Well the Derby is over and Liquidity finished out of the money. 

Oh, well. On those very rare occasions I’m involved an event that only takes two minutes, I usually disappoint someone else and still finish out of the money.

As I take off my Minnie Pearl outfit, I wonder if I can get this dress cleaned and sell it back on eBay? Or, I could just wear it again next year… perhaps at Churchill Downs?

But I’m still leaving the tag on the hat. ’cause I know I look damn good in it.

bc

Copyright by the author 2007, all rights reserved.