We regrouped after the bagarre generale. Eddie was a little confused and
upset that I had decked him. Wayne was upset because in his mind he had blown a
chance to add one and possibly three notches to his belt with the big country
gals. I was a little ticked off because I really did not like fighting.
With my large frame and easygoing demeanor, I had for the most part been able to
avoid physical confrontations. It wasn\'t always the case. When I was six years
old, a neighborhood kid was just beating the crap out of me on the lawn in front
of my house. I mean the kid was literally rubbing my nose in the dirt. My mother
leaned out the kitchen window, furious.
\"RICKY! How many times have I told you? STAY.OFF.THE.LAWN!\"
Eddie jolted me back into the present. \"Do you remember where we parked. You
think we will be able to find the car?\"
\"How many Buicks you think are in this town with a bumper sticker that says
\'Jesus loves you, but everyone else thinks your an a--hole\'?\"
We got to the Buick and started applying ice to our wounds. It was nearly 1 AM.
\"Where we gonna stay tonight?\" Eddie wanted to know. \"Its late and no place is
going to take us all bloodied up like this.\"
\"Eddie, you don\'t have a friggin drop of blood on you. You worked that turtle
strategy pretty good. Besides, we don\'t have a hotel bankroll. We\'ll be staying
in the Hotel Buick tonight.\"
The 1973 Buick Electra 225 had a curb weight in excess of 5100 pounds, large even
by the standards of the supersized behemoths Detroit was making during that
decade. With the expansive front bench seat, the car could easily sleep three,
with one of the three sleeping on the hood.
\"Where we gonna park?\"
\"I have that under control.\"
As we headed down Route 9 towards Malta, George Benson\'s smash instrumental hit
\"Breezing\" came on for maybe the 10th time that night. Eddie jabbed at the eject
button, grabbed the cartridge, and tossed the tape out the window. Part of the
tape was snagged in the dash, so the tape bounced alongsides the car as we drove.
We pulled up next to a wood fence near a darkened house in Malta.
\"Here\'s home fellas.\"
\"We gonna be okay parked here?\"
I shrugged my shoulders. \"I\'m tired. Its gonna have to do.\"
It was decided that I would sleep on \"the porch\", on the hood of the car. I told
Eddie and Wayne that they could have the preferred indoor bunks only if they
promised to try to avoid peeing, crapping or vomiting on the seats. This was,
after all, before the days of Scotchguard.
I grabbed my sleeping bag from the cavernous trunk and was fast asleep in the
cool air within minutes.
I awakened first. I felt sore from the previous nights activities. I went to the
trunk and retrieved one of the leftover Ballantine Ales and one of the Racing
Forms. I was sitting on a wooden picnic table when Eddie woke up.
\"I had a good nights sleep but I feel like a wino. I\'m going to need a shower. I
mean its Saratoga. I wanna be fresh, fit and preferred.\" Eddie now and then
lapsed into Racing Form speak. \"And let me tell you, Wayne smells really bad.\"
Wayne awakened soon after. \"Richie, we need to get showers. Have you gotten a
whiff of Eddie? I cant go to the races all bloodied up like this. I mean its
Saratoga for Chrissake. What are we gonna do? Routine Six, like last year?\"
\"Routine Six\" was a reference to the classic TV show the Bowery Boys. It usually
involved a hastily devised plan which centered on mayhem of some sort. Wayne\'s
reference to \"last year\" was to the fact that we had gotten kicked out our motel
early in the morning before we could shower; we had gotten the boot because Wayne
had asked the wrong person (the motel owner\'s teenage daughter) for the wrong item
(a rolling paper). We had driven that morning until we found another cheap motel
where we had to pay a maid $50 to let us all shower before she made up a room.
The boys were looking at me to come up with a Slip Mahoneyesque solution to our
problem. I knew something they didn\'t, and I was going to have a little fun with
them.
\"How about Saratoga Lake?\" I asked. \"We could bathe Woodstock style, though the
idea of seeing you two guys naked isn\'t doing much for me.\"
Eddie and Wayne were each giving me a look which said \"You went to college.
You figure this out.\"
\"Alright boys, tell you what I am going to do. I\'m going to grab my towel and my
toilet items. I\'m going to walk in that house over there\" I gestured over my
shoulder to the house which we had berthed the Buick next to \"and I\'m going to
take a shower like a gentleman.\"
My crew looked at me skeptically. I did just as I said, and fifteen minutes later
emerged from the house having shat, shaved and showered. Eddie and Wayne each
followed suit, looking sheepish as they entered the house and coming out with huge
s--t eating grins.
Unknown to Eddie and Wayne, we had spent the night at Collamer Park. Whoever
Collamer was, he left it in his will that his house be manned by a caretaker and
the property maintained for folks who wanted to camp out (I think there was a
three day limit). The first floor of the house (a small living room and the
bathroom) were open to the campers. I had discovered Collamer Park on a previous
excursion to Saratoga and it came in handy at least once a year.
Shaved and showered, we had a great day at the races. I seem to recall we all
agreed that a Woody Stephens Hickory Tree runner trying turf for the first time
would be a little salty. I think we even had enough of a bankroll accumulated to
stay in a motel the next two nights.
The afternoon after the fight, Eddie asked me how I thought we fared in the great
Munson brawl. I told him the refs had me over him in a unanimous decision, and by
virtue of the Yankee gang probably spending a night in jail while we slept at
Collamer Park meant that we had probably won the Mayor\'s Trophy Game.
Post Script: Collamer Park, according to the Town of Malta website, still exists,
but the \"S--t, shave and shower\" option does not seem to be available.
Great story Richie!
Richie,
Awesome yarn. With author William Murray (Tip on a Deal Crab, et al.) having passed on in 2005, there is plenty of room for some entertaining books on racing, especially, set at the Spa. like Murray i suspect you can delve into the underbelly of the sport. If the exotics don\'t come your way, sit down and write one. Your style is fantastic.