Race Track Diary, Entry Number
Seventeen
Billy Budd’s (Dec 13, 2025)
Introduction
This blog and some following blogs are sections from an informal diary of “visits to the race-track” at a particular time and place, by a person who has followed the races with varying levels of participation over a long period. These relate primarily to some visits to the track and/or off-track betting venues in the 2025 period and onward. They contain observations about the activity, both specific and general. Although these remarks are personal, they also reflect general cultural and historical trends, as they have impacted horse-racing, wagering and culture in general.
The setting is Edmonton, Alberta, Canada (population of about one million plus). However, I imagine that the observations would apply to many places in the world, as they are a reflection of how changing trends in technology, globalization and culture in general have affected this ancient and honourable activity of horse-racing.
For now, I will use what I call “polished point-form” for the narrative.
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17 – Billy Budd’s (Dec 13, 2025)
With mid-winter upon us, Billy Budd’s on the south-side is becoming our favorite haunt. This was an extremely wintry day. There had been some snow on the previous day and the temperature was a cool -24 C overnight (thats -11 F). It warmed up somewhat over the day, though, to about -11 C (that’s about +12 F).
The racetrack section of the place was rather crowded, moreso than usual, though it was a Saturday, so maybe normal for that day of the week. In fact, to begin with we had to take the final booth at the back of the section. That was rather far from the dozen or so TV screens and the lighting wasn’t great. So, at the first chance we got, we migrated a ways closer to the screen, in the arc-shaped section with undermount lighting.
The early crowd was quite enthusiastic, for an off-track betting site:
One guy shouting at the top of his voice "Come on Noro, come on Noro!" (or something like that). His race ended in a photo finish, nearly a dead heat. My brother said "I hope he loses, I don’t care for shouters." But he won, and I think it was at a rather nice price.
Another guy shouting, shouting, shouting: "Fuck off, fuck off! Shit horse!" I’m guessing his horse didn’t win.
Then there was another guy was just below us, dropping a lot of F-bombs, in a gravelly voice. Swearing isn’t so bad, but it is a good idea to use some discretion while doing so, unless you know a lot of colourful and unique cusses (my dad was an expert, probably because of his time in the Canadian army, Royal Canadian Engineers). Otherwise it is just boring.
Though it was still fairly early in the afternoon (about 1:45), most tracks in the east were well into their cards. Woodbine was pretty far gone, as were Gulfstream and Auqaduct. I chose to bet on a place in New Mexico, Zia Park.
This track has a mixed quarterhorse and thoroughbred racing schedule. Whether it qualifies as Class A or Class B is open to debate, which makes a difference for takeouts. It seems to have a takeout of 19% on WPS and 21% on exotic bets. That’s rather on the high side, but not as high as some.
It was rather different, as the races were all short sprints, often involving no turns. 870 yards was common (just under half a mile or four furlongs). Some races were as short as 300 to 400 yards (under a quarter-mile).
That would negate any advantage based on pole position (e.g. a track bias for horses running from an inside pole, if the ground is unusually firm along the rail). Furthermore, early speed seems to be almost meaningless, if a race is only a quarter-mile.
Zia Park was also fairly far into its card, with the 6th race being the first I could bet. I tried an exactor, no luck. One of my picks was in the money, but the other was far down the track.
The seventh didn’t seem bettable, 2 year-old maidens (i.e. never won a race), most of whom had never even been in the money (a couple had placed third in a previous race). My system only includes "in-the-money" races, so I skipped this race. (I had written in my notebook ‘Maidens, no form to speak of. Only in the money occasionally)
The eighth race had a couple of horses with decent speed, handily better than the rest. I bet the 9 to win, which had good odds, but it came in third.
At that point I was honestly feeling pretty tired and a little depressed, wondering if I was coming down with something. Here is an amusing anecdote about that:
The night before, I had dreamt that I was back at some university sociology seminar course and the instructor served something she called "sallow beef soup", which was supposed to be a delicacy, some place or another. I had a few spoonfulls, which were alright at first, but then started to make me feel sick. The instructor said "does anyone know what sallow refers to in this context?". I said "salty". Upon awakening, I did feel kind of sick.
A few days later I looked it up on google and its AI said:
"Sallow beef soup" appears to refer to salted beef soup, a traditional Caribbean dish often served with ground provisions and various vegetables. The term "sallow" is likely a transcription error for "salted" or might be a regional variation of "swallow," a starchy side dish like fufu or pounded yam that is often served alongside the soup "
On top of the weirdly accurate dream, the unsuccessful betting wasn’t helping matters, in terms of my perceived health and energy levels. Nonetheless, I worked out my numbers for the 9th race, and determined that the 7 horse should be a decent bet at 3-1 odds. With some trepidation, I went and placed a larger than usual bet on it.
And indeed, that horse did come in, paying $5.40 to win (on a 2 dollar bet). So, that erased my losses for the other two races and put me well over the top (I had upped my usual bet for this race, since it looked so good).
Suddenly I felt great! The incipient sickness went away almost immediately. A nice craft IPA beer followed, which only made my mood even better.
I skipped the 10th race (my notebook said "Not enough time to work out numbers").
By now the crowd had dwindled down to a hearty few souls. With the racing at Zia Park done, my serious betting was over.
We then settled in for an hour or so of betting on the bucket-pullers (harness races). I don’t handicap those, so I don’t count that in my serious horseracing endeavours, but I do shoot my brother Craig a few bucks, to go in on one of his bets, just for the action.
Craig won a nice exotic bet, but the machine didn’t cut the voucher properly. So, I went to the bar and the bartender used her handy pair if scissors to snip it cleanly. She was was very helpful and used to the problem, since that particular machine tended to be a bit wonky.
With a big win, Craig bought me a beer. He abstained from anymore himself, having had a couple already, since he had to drive home within the hour.
The waitress could have easily scored a job at Hooters (does that even exist anymore?). I couldn’t help noticing – that’s what winning bets and having a beer can do to you. The wife of a friend of mine waitressed for some years and said ‘you can’t be too shy about this if you want to make decent tips’. In general, the waitresses and other staff at this place are quite good; efficient, friendly and usually in a good mood. Tips must be good.
Woodbine/Mohawk had a match race between Santa and the Grinch. Santa won, but it was obvious to me that the race was fixed. There was not betting on the race, so no bother about that.
About that time, a big snowstorm was hitting eastern North America:
Races at Turfway Park in Kentucky were cancelled due to weather.
Sleet was coming down hard at the Meadowlands in New Jersey, but the bucket-pullers kept going anway.
At Laurel Park in Maryland, great clouds of water were thrown up as the thoroughbreds came out of the turn.
Woodbine/Mohawk in Toronto was snowy and very wintery looking, very appropriate for the Santa/Grinch race.
Evangeline Racetrack in Louisiana had rain and sleet.
Northfield Park, in Cleveland Ohio, had a monster snowstorm, with snow and sleet just hammering down. I suppose that was the famous ‘lake effect’ from Lake Erie. But the bucket-pullers there would not stop. We watched as one race paid $115 to win, a 60 to 1 long shot. Had it not won, Craig and I would have won a sizable bet ourselves. So it goes, with the vaguaries of the weather usurping the Sport of Kings.
Craig started looking through his tickets to see if he had missed any winners. Lo and behold, it turned out that he had bet his $140 winner twice, so he had another ticket worth the same amount. Earlier in the day, he had picked up a $110 win. It was like that old Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon: "Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out if my hat."
On hockey night in Canada, the Oilers whipped the Leafs 6-3. I watched that from the racing section, as it was on some of the televisions over the bar. They had their new goalie, after trading Skinner for Jarry. He did ok, at least so far.
I had mentioned to my wife that complaining about Skinner had become a sort of bonding ritual between me and my brother, so now we won’t have that. She said: "I guess you’ll just have to take more interest in the bucket-pullers now." Very astute and very amusing.
And that was a day that ended very well indeed.
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Here's a short story that involves horseracing:
A Dark Horse
The story is just $0.99 U.S. (equivalent in other currencies) and about 8000 words. It is also available on Kindle Unlimited and is occasionally on free promotion.
U.S.: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M9BS3Y5
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Here’s an interesting review from Goodreads
(BTW, the writer has never met the reviewer and was not even aware of the review until very recently – You can look up the review on Goodreads, if you like)
A Dark Horse
Every gambler is
bound to run out of luck eventually, right?
By far my
favourite type of horror is psychological horror. I was quite pleased
with how Mr. Olausen frightened his audience without spilling a
single drop of blood or so much as hinting at anything gory. He knew
exactly what hints to drop for us that made us deliciously dread the
next scene simply by throwing out hints about who or what the dark
horse might actually represent. This is the kind of stuff I love
getting scared by, especially as Halloween approaches.
It
would have been helpful to have more character development in this
short story. While I certainly wouldn’t expect to see as much time
spent on this as I would for a full-length novel, I did have trouble
connecting to the main characters due to how little I knew about them
and how much their personalities seemed to remain the same no matter
what happened to them. If not for this issue, I would have felt
comfortable choosing a much higher rating as the plot itself was well
done.
I must admit to not knowing much about gambling at
all, so I appreciated the brief explanations the narrator shared
about how placing bets works and why some people have so much trouble
walking away from a bet. While I will leave it up to experts on these
topics to say how accurate everything was, I did enjoy learning more
about the main character’s addiction and what he hoped to gain from
betting on just one more game or race. It gave me a stronger sense of
empathy for folks in his position.
A Dark Horse – A
Gothic Tale was a deliciously chilling story for the Halloween season
and beyond.
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And here is an account of a summer job on the railroad, during my undergraduate years.
One Summer Working on the Railroad
What follows is anaccount of a few weeks one long-ago summer, when I was 19 and was working for the Canadian National Railway (CNR) on a railroad construction gang, in the wilds of north-central British Columbia, Canada.The journal is in the form of a letter, that was never sent. Decades later, I think it has an interesting historical resonance. At times I come off like a callow youth – I plead guilty as charged. I swore a lot more in those days than I do now, but in places the writing is surprisingly good, at least in my humble opinion. And the story has a compelling narrative arc.
There were a lot of interesting and dramatic events that occurred – a number of industrial accidents being the most serious. There were also some colorful characters on the crew, which resulted in some dramatic and at times amusing conflicts and altercations. I perhaps flatter myself by including myself in that number. Or perhaps I condemn myself – I’m not sure.
So, if you want to be reminded of one of those summer jobs that was kind of life-changing, read on. My story may just kick-start some memories of your own.
The memoir/journal is about 9,000 words, a length that can usually be read in an hour or so. It is priced at 99 cents U.S. (equivalent in other currencies) and is free on Kindle Unlimited. Periodically, it will be offered as a free promotion.
U.S.: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CN661P8Z
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Brazil: https://www.amazon.com.br/dp/B0CN661P8Z
Mexico: https://www.amazon.com.mx/dp/B0CN661P8Z














