Happy Thanksgiving

I realize that these "Thankful" blogs have become almost obligatory, but I am writing because I want to, not because I feel I have to. As we prepare to sit down to our feasts tomorrow, I will be thinking about a number of things.

I am thankful for my family, Kyle and Dana, and especially for my wife Becki, who puts up with me coming home from the races after midnight several nights a week, smelling like a cigar, and then not offering her the "good" bourbon. She sacrifices me for a few months each year to a group of 30 or so young ladies -- no, they are not competing for her affection, just for my soccer coaching ability, as slim as it may be. Being a head high school soccer coach requires great deal of personal sacrifice-- 8 AM practices in August (paired up with 6PM sessions during two-a-days), constant meetings with the AD, coaching staff and parents, and of course game days, where with bus trips to and from, plus a JV-Varsity doubleheader I may spend 7 hours or more. And I am Thankful that three weeks short of my 50th birthday, I can still post a 2.0 goals against average as a goalkeeper in my indoor soccer league-- a league where I am the oldest player and she is the oldest female player!

I am thankful my family helps me keep perspective. No matter how frustrated I may get at work, at soccer, at my kids, when they they tell me about serving dinner at St. Als' hunger center, or when they adjust their schedule every Monday evening to pick up the left over baked goods at Panera to donate to St Al's, or when my daughter (now 18) asked that her 13th birthday dinner money be donated to the hunger fund at Temple, instead of going out to a restaurant.

I am also thankful that my bosses at Northfield allow me the scheduling leeway to help out as above, and to arrange my vacation days around my reptile programs, as well. In season, I typically come in at 9, leave at 3:20 and return at 6:30 for the races. Not many companies would allow that, even for a media superstar such as myself (he said, jokingly). There are times when my work suffers, but after a swift kick in the butt, they get me headed in the right direction.

I am thankful that I work at Northfield, a track that at least has a future in the Buckeye state. A big part of this is the amazing group of horsemen on our backstretch -- some friends, some acquaintances, and some just names in the program. As some of you know, I trained horses for a couple years in the seventies, when I still had a full head of hair and a waistline in the thirties. It is often a thankless job, although I loved what I did, as these folks clearly do. Our current group works long hours for peanuts, only to get *(^($d at by our patrons every time one of their 2-5 steeds run out of the money. These amazing hard workers start at 7 AM (well some of them, anyhow) and often finish after midnight, only to start it all again the next day. Even when they take a holiday or a Sunday off, horses have to be fed and checked. Their are no days-off for our horsemen. They soldier on, despite the sad state of the sport in Ohio. I hope and pray, more for them than for me, as a manager here, that the great minds in Columbus get their heads out of the sand and provide relief and soon. We have owners who scratch out a living, or some who are hobbyists, but who stay steadfast in their support of their trainer and Ohio racing.

The people in this business, this sport, are remarkable. I have written elsewhere of Bob Sidley, Skip Hoovler and Mike Medors, who a few years back gave me a chance to drive Medoland Miracle in a Billings race. She had raced in a $250,000 race at Woodbine less than a month before, and despite managing to get her beat at 1-5 (folks, as a handicapper it is just wrong to bet me to 1-5, period), Skip continues to insist that "the mare just wasn't right that day." Mike was a bit more frank, but it was a remarkable experience. After my notorious wreck at Scioto Downs, Ned Hodkinson called to offer me a horse for Delaware the following week -- a nice safe horse, he said. And how about Clair Umholtz. In thew late-nineties, before I was working at the track, I jogged horses for him, even though I had been away for nearly twenty years, and, knowing that my business situation was not the best, grossly overpaid me. Hell, I should have been paying him for the opportunity. I could go on and on, but I am thankful for all of you.

And, now as I begin to ramble uncontrollably, please remember when you sit down to your Thanksgiving dinner, to really think about that toast before dinner, to think about the times you have with family and friends. And if you are travelling, BE SAFE.

Enjoy the true meaning of this holiday!