Try to establish, historically, how the 23-character naming system for thoroughbred horses came about, well good luck. Best shot: a leathery stable hand once wisecracked, “Horse names? I think it was King Richard III. Y’know, ‘a horse, a horse my kingdom for a… You get it, buddy? Haw-haw…”
In any event, it’s a long tradition. And the steed’s real handle is seldom as exotic or exciting as “GETDOCAGEM.” The actual name is more like “Dunk” or “Geef.” I was a novice, hangin’ around the paddocks at Bowie, or Timonium. My girlfriend at the time, who favored fake-fur vests, headbands ‘round her spikey ‘do, and an occasional cigar — she fancied numerous mispronunciation.
Instead of “Doc-a-Gem,” Más would bleat out “CAGEM, CAGEM.” I liked that plenty. More playful reconfiguration. Of course some titles were hyphenated: especially Tribal or Indigenous. “TOM-KA-WHA-MA-NI.” That sounded vaguely Faulknerian.
Now, putting two horses weirdly ‘clept’ wasn’t only entertaining; ‘twas oft financially rewarding when the exacta (First and second finishers in a given race) came in, for instance, as it did in the frigid opening week at Bowie in January 1983, when WEGONE DAGGONE nipped GYPSY O’SHAY at the nose, as the two longshots skidded across the icy finish line.
Back up at Aqueduct in New York, “The Dream Track,” a few meets down the road, I celebrated my 33rd birthday, hitting the 8-9 feature exacta. “VOLT,” over “LIGHT MY POCKET.” 20-1 odds over 50-1! Sparks flew for what some (perhaps even Andy Beyer the noted handicapper) enthused over this combo price: $889 fresh claims. They called it the Electric Exacta, and NoteL the IRS caught up to me the following spring, for a hefty chunk of “gamblings winnings tax.”
In a future missive, I might ruminate over “EIRE CANAL” with “PROPELTER,” “PETES’ PRESENT” over “LITTLE RED ROMEO,” (Más extolled my skill in netting the trifecta as well that Sunday at Bowie – don’t recall the third finisher in that one, but Alberto Delgado was up).
Can’t recall who came in behind FORTUNATE FABLE up at Belmont, but the Irish turfer drew off at 68-1 and held on. That was around 1982, and from then on I oft hummed the Statler Bros. “Don’t Wait On ME,” when my ‘ringer’ stayed out front!
