The Little El Paso Handicapper

The classified ad in ARGOSY, a men's magazine, sounded enticing. 'BUY THE LITTLE EL PASO HANDICAPPER AND NEVER LOSE AT THE RACE TRACK AGAIN.'

Huh?

The ad went on to state that for just $4.95 -- this was the 1970s -- plus $2 or shipping and handling, I could be the proud possessor of a handicapping device that would pick winners. I was living in Phoenix, AZ. about a mile from Turf Paradise Race Track. The ad carried a money back guaranteed statement, so I went down to the local post office and sent in my money order.

I was working as a reporter for the Phoenix Gazette and my buddy Dave Molina was a copy editor on the newspaper. He and I were writing partners as well as gambling conspirators, so I naturally told him about the Little El Paso Handicapper.

'How does it work?,' he wanted to know.

'Beats me. I'll get it in a week or so. From the way the ad was worded, you dial in the information on the horses last three races, you add some extra information from the Daily Racing Form, and the handicapper picks out the winner. Why don't we give it a shot at Turf Paradise?'

Dave favored the idea. When the package from El Psto, Texas arrived at the post office, I picked it up and we drove out to the race track.

The weather was perfect for horse racing. The temperature was about 80 degrees, the turquoise sky was cloudless, and a hint of a breeze came rom the McDowell Mountains to our north.

After buying a copy of the Daily Racing Form, Dave and I took our seats in the bleachers next to the finish line and began handicapping our first race. We had dates that night with two flight attendants that we had met two weeks earlier on a flight to Las Vegas. Dinner and dancing at Mr. Lucky's, the hottest country western night club in Phoenix, followed by who nows what. We were ready for whatever life's journey had to offer.

I twisted and turned the gadgets on the cardboard and metal device while Dave bought us a couple of Coors Beers.

'What does it say?,' he said, handing me a beer. 'What does fate have in store for two ink-stained wretches of the Fourth Estate?'

'Well...according to my interpretation of this gizmo, our selection is the four horse.' The horse was going off at six to one odds and we bet it.

The horse ran sixth.

Dave finished his beer and bought two more. I dialed all the information into the Little El Paso Handicapper for race number two. We bet that one at eight to one odds and the horse ran out of the money.

'Are you sure you're doing that handicapping business right, Buddy?,' Dave wanted to know.

'I'm following instructions by the book. Maybe it needs time to warm up.'

We wagered on three more races and all three selections ran out of the money. By this time, neither of us was feeling much pain because of the steady supply of beer. Our bankroll was severely depleted and I was beginning to wonder how we would finance our evening dates.

'We have only enough money to make one more bet,' I said. 'Want to give it a try?'

Dave shrugged. 'Sure, Buddy. Why not? Let's go for broke.'

This time the Little El Paso Handicapper, which I was beginning to hate, came up with the longest shot on the board. Olliman was listed at 22 to one odds. I looked at Dave, he looked at me. We both shrugged.'

'Let's wheel Olliman with every other horse in the race in a quinela,' I suggested. 'If our horse finishes first or second, we have a winner.'

'If not,' Dave said, sipping his beer, 'maybe we can talk the flight attendants into a feast at Jack-In-The-Box.' I gave him a week smile.

The odds on Olliman had climbed to 30 to one. Our horse broke dead last. At the top of the stretch, Olliman began moving on the outside. Dave and I yelled ourselves hoarse. The horses hit the finish line in a photo finish.

'I think he finished fourth,' Dave said numbly. 'I need a drink.

A man sitting behind us said, 'I don't think so. Your horse might have gotten second.'

When the horses were posted, we screamed. Olliman had finished second and the winner was a 15 to one long shot. Our quinela paid $360.

I kissed the Little El Paso Handicapper. That night we had a fabulous date. I have no idea what happened to my little handicapping device -- I lost it a couple of weeks later. But that day it worked and for that, I thank the mysterious powers of chance and probability..

Author: Geno Lawrenzi Jr.

(Geno Lawrenzi Jr. is an international journalist, magazine author and ghostwriter and poker player who lives in Phoenx, AZ. He has published 2,000 articles in 50 magazines and 125 newspapers. If you want to share a gambling story or book idea with him, send an email to glawrenzi@gmail.com ).