Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1903-01-13
PLAYING THE PONIES,
Tales Of Remarkable Luck Told by an
Old Reporter.

OA0 4NSPVANCAs
Speaking of luck in playing the
ponies" said Mr.. Frank Bryan, the
race reporter, to an interested group,
according to the Washington Star,
reminds me of my experience in the
palmy days of the old Alexander Isl
and track in the middle nineties. One
day, after having nibbled at all the
good things offered and not caught
a single bite, l was preparing to go
back to town when / was accosted
by ragged tout, who insisted on my
playinga horse that was about to run
at East St. Louis, which he had for
merly rubbed, he said, called Jim
Hogg. I tried to tear myself away
from the fellow and take the train,
but he implored me with such elO-
quence and deep feeling that 1 re-
luctantly surrendered by giving him
the last SIS 1 had in my clothing. If
/ remember correctly Hogg was so
to l. In few seconds the telegrs-
pher shouted, They're Off Seconds
passed by, and it seemed to me, as the
telegrapher announced the running,
that every horse stood a chance ex-
cept jim Hogg. Sure that had
dropped my last five, I turned 30 go.
Just then the man at the keys shout
ed in stentorian tones, Jim Hogg
winsp and ! gaily tripped into line
and cashed The tout? Oh, l fixed
him so generously that the next day
when he flashed up at the track his
most intimate friends passed him by
with stony stare, and thought he
was some Irish lord over in this cOun-
try wearing out his old clothes.
"All race goers at the island, | inn
aginc, remember old McKeever. He
was an 'annuar-that is, he won once
a year, and not unfrequently the men
who were in the know went down on
him, bob, line and sinker, in every
pool room in the country. ! did not
know as much about McKeever then
as / did later on. 1t 50 happened
that I was in the ring, chalking down
the odds, and incidently looking out
for a good thing to play, when | was
attracted by the bold legend, written
in quite as bold letters, 'McKeever,
Is to L. had a measly So in my
pocket, and as the walking was bad
that day between the island and
Washington l thought it good policy
to hang on to the little wad Of long
green in my possession; but instantly
relenting, pulled out dollar from
the roll, and, with a hangdog look.
slipped it into the hand of the man
at the box. When | reached the re-
porters' stand | kept my counsel, for
my reputation as a picker of winners
was at stake, and | was determined
not to give myself away. The horses |
were already at the post, and
noticed at every breakaway that Me-
Keever was we'll in front. This |
demonstrated that the old dog was
not q lobster at least Finally, the |
flag fell, with McKeever again well |
in front. On the back stretch he was
running like a mad horse, pleading
his field by five lengths On the
turn for home he led by Is lengths
and was a wild horse. Then the old
dog suddenly began to stop almost
to nothing, when his jock went to
work at him, and by hard riding viz
tually lifted him in by nose, and
saved me from one Of the worst cases
Of heart failure l was ever threat
ened with. When L realized that
had won the coin l slippedmyfingers
into my vest pocket and Aourished
my ticket under the very noses Of
my fellow reporters as evidence of my
superior judgment in picking win
ners. Out of revenge they seized
my hat, threw it on the floor, executed
war dance upon it, and did other
extravagant things to express their
opinions of my meanness in not put
ting them on to the good thing. The
moral Of this story is that frequently
the less you know about the horses
you play in a race the liable you
are to win.