SASSCER HILL GOES TO THE PREAKNESS!

On May 19, I squeezed into the suit my sister bought me fifteen years ago and grabbed my Preakness ticket.

The magic ticket.

 
I cranked up my 2000 Lincoln, and though the car has clocked over 150,000 miles, the motor still kicks obligingly when I hit the pedal. Like a good old horse, the car ferried me to Harwood to meet my ride to the races.  


My Turfside Terrace ticket included seats at a table near the finish line, a tasty meal, and more free water and sodas than I'd consume in a year. Booze, unfortunately, was extra, and my table was not the same as that of my traveling companions. But I counted my blessings. Especially when I discovered the people at my new table were all male and younger than me!

Sasscer Hill intending to have fun!

These guys were there to handicap the races and bet. They were extremely polite and were not hard drinkers. How lucky can a gal get?

Two of my table companions.

Four more of my table companions. Nobody had fun -- you can tell right?

 I spent some time with my niece Alidia Clagett and her beau, Jim.

For a while, I  sat with childhood friend Christy, and sports photographer Isabel Kurek. But mostly, I watched the track

A turf stake on Preakness Day!

Horses ready to break on one of the undercard stakes.

Not long before the Preakness and after an excellent meal, two vodkas, and two  brownies, I decided to venture into the infamous Preakness Infield. Sadly, I didn’t find Kegasus. 

Kegasus

But there there were plenty of other irrationally exuberant people and the way-cool band Maroon 5. I pushed my way as close as I could get to Maroon 5 as they performed live on stage, until the sweaty, often scantily-clothed-crowd closed in one me. It contained some interesting characters.

Interesting Character.

The infield mob and the Maroon 5 stage.  

About the time I decided I might be past my rock-concert-prime, I spotted a man in a natty, green jacket who looked like he was attempting to escape. I inched over to him.


“You don’t look like you belong out here,” I shouted.  


“Not really. I’m trying to leave,” he yelled back.


I hooked a few fingers on his sleeve and let him tow me toward the distant exit. About the time Maroon 5 began playing “Moves Like Jagger,” some gals in dresses with fancy hats, and a couple of sharp-dressed men materialized out of the crowd. 


Next thing I knew, we'd had formed a conga line and were dancing our way to safety. We boogied right on out of there, and I have to confess it was the most fun I’ve had in some time. 

"The Man in the Natty Green Jacket," and other dancing escape artists.

Then it was time to get serious. A Grade One, Triple Crown race was on the line. I was so close, I got a few pictures with my tiny camera.

Bringing them over for the Preakness!

Mike Smith and Bodemeister

Right before the race, one of the guys at my table looked up and said, “I’ll Have Another is going to win this race.” 


The way he said it, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Then I saw the horse in the post parade. He had his game face on. Anyone could see he intended to win!

       
                                                 And he did . . . .

Matt Wooley catches the winner, and the winner catches Bodemeister!

RACING FROM DEATH Goes to The Black-Eyed Susan.

I packed an optimistic forty books, two pens, and my cash box. I stuck a feather fascinator on my head, a Pimlico parking pass on the rearview, and drove north to Baltimore for black-eyed Susan Day.
 
The Black-Eyed Susan is a horse race with a purse of $300,000. It would be run that afternoon, followed by the million-dollar Preakness the next day. The Black-Eyed Susan is Maryland’s derby for three-year-old fillies, and is named after the Maryland state flower. It’s a day of festivity, excellent racing, and fashionable hats. Please note that the boys get the million-dollar purse and the girls get the three hundred thousand-dollar purse. Some things never change.

Men at work.

 
Pimlico was blessed with fabulous, sunny weather the whole weekend. That special mix, when it’s not too hot, not too cool, and the air is clear.  I walked into a grandstand that buzzed with excitement. I’d been lucky enough to be invited to sign my new mystery “Racing from Death.” After arranging my books at the table provided by Pimlico, I realized the key to my cash box was still in the car. It is possible I cursed.


An extremely nice Sasscer Hill fan, named Natalie, volunteered to watch my stuff. I dashed out the entrance, then fought like a fish swimming upstream against the incoming crowd, before jogging across acres of pavement to reach the car. I snatched up the pesky key, and dashed back to the grandstand. I composed myself and sat. 

A Wendy Wooley Photo.

Several other authors were signing that day. Next to me was Ann Hambleton, with her children’s book, “Raja.” 

Ann Hambleton 

Nearby were authors Martha Dugan Hopkins, and Phil Dandrea. My friend Frank Vespe, the man who runs the “That’s Amore Stable” syndicate and racing blog, stopped by.

Frank Vespe and Sasscer

  


A stranger stopped by and bought a book. He handed me his card. His name was Thomas and he was small, wiry, and wired. He asked me to sign the book and to write “Go Army.” I did. I started to hand him his book, and he said, “Can you do one more thing? Can you write ‘major?’ I’m a major, in the Army, Major Tom.”

In certain instances I don’t bother to restrain myself. I looked him in the eye and sang, “Ground control to Major Tom.” A line from the old David Bowie song “Space Oddity.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uhSYbRiYwTY


He said, “I get that a lot.”


I said, “Why am I not surprised,” and handed him his book. He promptly blasted off toward the track.  



A little later, two photographers with lenses the size of Zenyatta stopped before my table and started shooting pictures. I stared at them in full blonde-moment non-recognition. Amazing racing photographer, Matt Wooley had to remind me who he was. Ah, duh. Only the guy that took my all time favorite photo of me and Paula Marie Weglarz.

Me and Paula Marie! Keeneland 2010.

And Matt's adorable, super charged wife, Wendy. I’m so mad I neglected to take their picture. The two of them together blaze with energy. Awesome couple!



The thing about book signing is, you can’t leave your table. Not if you want to sell copies. Since I was coming back for the Preakness the next day, I planned to rocket out of there mid afternoon to avoid the worst of Baltimore Friday afternoon rush hour. I did, however, wait around for the highlight of my day, the arrival of TV personality Donna Barton Brothers who was signing her book, "Inside Track: Insiders Guide to Horse Racing." 

Donna Brothers Barton

If you’ve ever watched a triple crown race or the Breeder’s Cup you have seen Donna. She is the gal followed by the NBC camera truck, who rides out on the track with her microphone and interviews the jockey as he gallops the winner back toward the grandstand and winner’s circle. Donna used to be a jockey and she really knows her stuff.


After I got a picture with Donna, I hit the road.

Donna and Sasscer

 Late that afternoon a filly named “In Lingerie,” won the Black-Eyed Susan. By the time she ran and with a name like that, you think  the fellows deep in their beers had bet her off the board? 

In Lingerie winning the Black Eyed Susan

HEADING FOR THE PREAKNESS: Me and Everyone Else!

KY Derby winner, I'll Have Another galloping at Pimlico

Derby runner-up Bodemeister stretching his legs

Kentucky Derby winner, "I'll Have Another," is hoping to do exactly that on Saturday when he runs in the Preakness. It is also rumored that Bob Baffert's runner-up "Bodemeister" has vowed not to get baffled again at the wire.


Trainers, grooms, gamblers, exercise riders, jockeys, and sports writers are anxiously studying the stats of all the high dollar races to be run at Pimlico during the upcoming Preakness weekend.


Being entirely female, it's most important to me that the horses are happy, nobody gets hurt, and the fascinator I ordered arrives in time so I can wear it to the Preakness!

On Friday, May 18, Black Eyed Susan Day, I will be signing copies of  my two mystery novels, “Full Mortality,” and “Racing from Death.”  Catch me from noon to 2:00 p.m. in the Pimlico grandstand. 

An entirely different hat will be worn while signing the two novels. It wouldn't do to wear the same fascinator twice. Not on Preakness weekend.

I'm delighted to report NBC and TVG news personality, Donna Brothers Barton, will show up at 2:00 p.m. in the grandstand to sign her new book on handicapping. I look forward to seeing her again. 


My sister, Lillian, bought me a Preakness ticket! On Saturday, I have a seat in the Turfside Terrace where I can watch Donna Barton gallop by on her track pony followed by the NBC camera truck.

Donna Brothers Barton covering the Preakness.

 I can scream as "Bodemeister" and "I’ll Have Another" battle it out down the stretch. Unless an unknown explodes into the picture.


I am a bit emotional about these two days at Pimlico, the Maryland track where I won my first horse race with a home-bred colt named Sea Surge. An amazing full circle, a journey that led to my third, just completed Nikki Latrelle novel, “The Sea Horse Trade.”


 Maryland racing and every racetrack provide a microcosm for life. In one place at one time, there is greed, crime, treachery, cruelty, love, heroism, bravery, determination, and underdogs who reach deep into their hearts to get the win. Terrific fuel for the writing of novels!

THE FIRST WIN!

BLACK-EYED SUSANS DAY AT PIMLICO

Royal Delta winner of the Black-Eyed Susans going to post.

Thanks to the enthusiasm and endless promotion by Karin De Francis and the Maryland Jockey Club, the Black-Eyed Susans (BES) Day program at Pimlico matches any racing event I’ve attended in the country.  


BES day is also Lady-Legends Day, and I couldn’t wait, rushing out early to meet the gal that was giving me a ride, Christy Clagett. Christy was also taking the ninety-year-old lady-legend, Jane Toal. Jane was a cancer research scientist at NIH for many years and always an avid foxhunter.  When I climbed into the back seat of Christy’s SUV, Jane sat up front wearing a thickly knit wool hat, a leather sun visor, amber racing goggles and a winter coat.

I wondered if we were really going to Pimlico.

Jane Toal

Jane cranked her head around slowly and said, “I wear this to protect my head and eyes.” Then she talked for a while, sharp as a knife and totally with it. I had no doubt she was one tough bird.


Christy was cruising on the Baltimore beltway, when Jane asked me to check through her large, wheeled-bag for her BES ticket. Fifteen minutes later, I still hadn’t found it. I found a lot of interesting stuff, but not the ticket. 


When we arrived at the entrance to the Pimlico parking lots, Christy suddenly had other business to take care of. She hopped out of her SUV and handed me the keys, leaving me with Jane. Christy has long legs, and I couldn’t figure out how to adjust her car seat. Driving with my feet straining toward the pedals, I was waved past numerous parking attendants and finally directed to a designated space. 


I looked over at ninety-year old Jane and her large wheeled bag, then at the Grandstand over half-mile away.  


Jane, not a lady-legend for nothing, insisted on rolling her bag herself. “I’m slow,” she said, “but I’ll get there.” 


We headed off across the broken gravel lot toward the grandstand that loomed like a mirage in the distance. “This isn’t working work for me,” I thought, and jogged ahead to an attendant holding a track radio. I pointed to the old lady creeping toward us with her bag on wheels. 


“We need a golf cart,” I said. “That’s one of the lady-legends.” It was like saying “open sesame.”


Pimlico staff had a golf cart magically appear and ferry us to the entrance, lickety split. Only Jane still didn’t have a ticket. 


Fortunately, Crystal Kimball, owner of the Equiery and another force behind Lady- Legends Day, was near the entrance with a gaggle of staff and other “retired” lady-legends. I stashed Jane with them and rushed over to Will Call to get my ticket, then hot-footed into the ticket office to straighten out Jane’s problem. After zipping back to Jane to ask a few pertinent questions, and a two-minute-lick back to the ticket office, I returned to the group of ladies, proudly bearing a ticket for Jane.


Leaving the gaggle behind, I headed for the entrance gate. Rain had threatened that morning, so I carried an umbrella, only a guard warned me that umbrellas were not allowed inside. I turned toward the distant parking lot, and stuck the top half of my walking-stick-styled umbrella under my coat, and the bottom half into my bag. 


I was busted at the gate. Schlepping back to Christy’s car to unload the dangerous umbrella, it’s possible I said a bad word. Maybe two. At last, I got inside the grandstand, past the paddock and over the tram – a covered walk across the dirt racetrack. Inside the Turfside Terrace tent, I collapsed in a chair.

The Turfside Terrace Tent before the day got started.

Kitsi Christmas and my nephew Bartholt Clagett handicapping.

Me and Karin De Francis

The best act of the day! The Lunabells. Roll over Dixie Chicks.

Pink and hats were everywhere!

Even pink hair!

Alidia Clagett, Crystal Kimball, Kitsi Christmas and Bartholt Clagett

Alidia and Bartholt's other aunt, Christy Clagett with a Budweiser  horse.

Me with a different Budweiser Horse. His head is as big as me!

Me and Kitsi

  
Immediately after the Black-Eyed Susans ran, the entire entourage of retired lady-legends either walked or golf-carted to Pimlico’s stake’s barn for a tour. All the horses running in the Preakness were in that barn! Except when we arrived, we weren’t allowed inside. 


But I’d seen something really interesting before we’d turned the last corner. A man in dark glasses with a handsome shock of long white hair. Had to be top trainer and mega racing personality Bob Baffert. I hopped off my golf cart and double-timed it back, pulling my camera out as unashamedly as any paparazzi. I admit it – I had someone snap a picture of me with Baffert.


It didn’t take long for the others to catch on, and within moments the golfcart brigade was rolling toward Baffert. A photo session ensued, with cameras popping out of bags, cases, and pockets. But Baffert just rolled with it. No wonder he is loved by the press and the entire racing industry.  


Since I know he has a zany sense of humor, and everyone else was too star struck to say anything, I said, “Bob, you and I were friends on FaceBook . . . for about three minutes.” 


“Yeah,” he said, “it was really fun  . . . I don’t know . . . .” He allowed a look of regret to cross his face. “My wife made me get off. She thought there were too many flirtatious emails.”


I said, “You mean your beautiful blond wife, who provided you with a gorgeous child?”


“That was mostly me,” he said. “I was the sire.”

When you have an opportunity, you keep going, so I said, “Do you remember when Informed Decision was in your barn at Santa Anita for the Breeder’s Cup in 2009?  And Barry Wiseman was leading her around your shedrow and you tried to throw both of them out?” 


Informed Decision is the huge, beautiful,  grey mare who won the Breeder’s Cup Sprint a few days later, and Baffert is so quick and so cool, he grabbed the story and ran with it.


“I do remember that,” he said. “I thought it was some raggedy assed European outfit that wasn’t supposed to be there.”


“Yes,” I said. “You told Barry Wiseman he had to get that horse out of your barn.” 


Baffert was nodding, so I kept going. “And Barry looked at you and said, ‘I have to get THIS horse out of your barn?’” 


For any reader who knows Barry, you know this was probably said with the kind of quiet intensity that makes you want to watch your back. But Baffert was grinning now and continued with the story.


“So one of my people comes up to me and says, ‘Bob, they’re with Jonathan Sheppard!’” 


Baffert put his hand over his mouth as if the memory was painful. A word I won’t repeat here escaped him. 


“Barry was so steamed at you,” I said, “and from that day forward he has called you ‘Bob Baffled.’” 


Hard to see behind those dark-glasses, but I think Baffert took the hit really well.

Me and Bob Baffled, I mean Baffert.

AWESOME REVIEW!! FULL MORTALITY Book Signing on PREAKNESS Weekend! New Short Story Available!

Full Mortality just received a totally awesome review:

"If you like the work of Dick Francis or Sue Grafton, you will like Sasscer Hill. With a true insider’s knowledge of horse racing, Hill brings us Nikki Latrelle, a young jockey placed in harm’s way who finds the courage to fight the odds and the heart to race for her dreams.” – Mike Battaglia, NBC racing analyst and TV host, veteran track announcer, and “morning line” odds maker for the Kentucky Derby.

I'm totally thrilled to be doing a novel signing event at Pimlico on Black Eyed Susan's day!  


So excited, I forgot that my short story "Venemous," the second in the Janet Simpson series is now available through the latest edition of the anthology, "Chesapeake Crimes."  This anthology it titled, "They Had It Comin'." Take a look at
http://www.amazon.com/gp/search/ref=a9_sc_1?rh=i:stripbooks,k:chesapeake+crimes+they