By Delores Wilson, August 8, 2019 — My guy friends taught me how to wheel the horses for the horse racing. The paper for that event didn’t come out until 2:00 Saturday morning. So after clubbing and partying, we would drive down to 12th and Arch and pick up the paper. I would be taking home to change and study the paper, they went home to change and study the paper as well. After we refreshed ourselves, I was picked up and we would go for breakfast with their lady friends. Afterward, [we’d go to] the track. We kidded around a lot, as usual, I was asked how and who was I betting on. I said, “Place, show, and win,” but I didn’t disclose the name of the horse. At the sixth race, my horse won. Suddenly I heard “jockey protest.” What is that? When we went inside and looked at the monitor, they showed in slow motion my horse brushed up against the other horse. The next three races I stayed in the lounge, nursing my wounds.
I had put all my pay on place, show, and win. No one outside the inner circle, until now, knew. I had money in the bank, but I would not withdraw. I made the few dollars that I had left do for the rest of that week. I began to see losing as a blessing in disguise.