Know How to Pick ‘em? Harried Rookie Didn’t : Horse racing: Armed with $250, an intrepid reporter spends a long--very long--48 hours at Hollywood Park betting on 125 races from eight venues.

Sportofkingsmyeye.

Don’t get me wrong. A horse is a beautiful animal. And the grace with which a thoroughbred runs is truly a sight to behold.

But in the last few days, I’ve beheld more horses with silly names--Comebackkidder, Abuvthemendozaline--running in circles than I care to remember.

Not that I can forget--they’re still running in my head. And some of the ones I picked are probably still running on the track.

Fortunately, none of them broke down, as the terminology goes. But I nearly did--several times during a marathon betting session that began early Friday and ended, mercifully, late Saturday night.

Quinellas, exactas, daily doubles, rolling doubles, daily triples, trifectas, superfectas, pick-threes and pick-sixes? Been there, done that--way too many times.

It was as I stood with a ticket for one track in one hand and a ticket for another track in the other, and yet another ticket for yet another track on the table in front of me, that I fully realized the absurdity of it all.

With television monitors to my right and left and a live race in front of me, I was rooting for three horses at three different tracks in three different counties at the same time.

And I had another horse going at still another track in only a few minutes. And, earlier in the day, I had completed--with very little success--an entire race card at yet another track somewhere in Canada.

My losses were far from staggering, but when this ridiculous endurance test was finally over, I certainly was.

If I had any horse sense at all, I was thinking, I would never spend another day at the races again.

*

It’s all still sort of a blur but, near as I can recall, the insanity began late last week with a call from the boss. . . .

“We’ve got a fun, crazy sort of assignment for you,” he says. Knowing the boss as I do, I silently admonish myself for answering the phone. He has a devious side.

But then he divulges the gist of the assignment--to go to Hollywood Park to try to handicap, wager on and monitor 125 races from eight tracks available to Hollywood Park customers over a period of 48 hours--and one thought comes to mind: “Parlay!”

I call Jack Disney, associate director of publicity at the Inglewood track. He tells me the assignment was probably made because such a betting opportunity, though a sign of the times, is unprecedented at local tracks.

“You’d have to go to Las Vegas or Atlantic City to be able to get this kind of action,” he says. “I once did a similar thing. I bet the card at Santa Anita and then ran over to Los Alamitos and bet the night card there. But that was child’s play compared to what you’re going to do.”

Great, and I know as much about horse racing from my one trip to the track a year as I do about reading the Racing Form. I need a calculator to do basic math on my expense accounts.

Oh well, it’s not my money. The Times, in a touching display of generosity, has donated $2 for each race, a grand total of $250, and I get to keep anything I win. I’ve nothing to lose. Nothing, that is, except my sanity.

I arrive on a dreary, drizzly Friday morning to find the track closed. Next door, however, at the casino, a few dozen mostly down-and-out types are monitoring the simulcast action at Woodbine, which I think is somewhere in Ontario.

First post is in 10 minutes. I buy a $60 voucher. Mike Mooney, director of publicity, arrives and drops off a packet of programs, Racing Forms and tout sheets that are supposed to make my days a little easier.

I shuffle through the stuff and decide I had better hurry if I want to get my first bet down. But I can’t find my voucher. It’s lost in the pile of papers on my table.

Great start!

I find it in the nick of time, hurry to the window and risk $2 on a horse with Sandy Hawley riding. I remember him from the few times I visited the local tracks 15 years ago. He has to be 50 years old!

Still, he’s the leading jockey at Woodbine. I soon learn that leading jockeys, on 12-1 horses, can lose as easily as non-leading jockeys.

Betting mostly quinellas, I go one for nine at Woodbine. Five of my two-horse picks, which have to finish first and second to pay, finish first and third. Murphy’s Law, I suppose.

I cash in my $7 winner and head over to the track, where Stockton’s televised 10-race card is about to start. Golden Gate Fields begins in an hour. The live races at Hollywood Park follow that, and the Los Alamitos 13-race card, including three of its simulcast races, follows that.

Anticipating chaos, I make the most of a break in the action by reading a pamphlet explaining why horse racing is called the sport of kings.

Seems the “thoroughbred” originated in England, when three Arabian stallions were presented as gifts to royalty by Arab sheiks in the late 1600s. They were bred with local mares and the result was a horse gifted with speed and grace.

To this day, all thoroughbreds trace directly to these three stallions. The breeders had no way of knowing, of course, but they were creating a monster, unleashed in recent times by modern technology and this thing called a simulcast.

*

The seventh at Stockton goes off on cue with Golden Gate’s fifth. I need the No. 3 horse at Stockton and the No. 5 horse at Golden Gate. A monitor to my left and one to my right. Ha, nothing to it.

The No. 3 horse is leading, but it’s on the Golden Gate monitor. The No. 5 horse is rallying, but it’s on the Stockton monitor.

Iamconfused.

No time to handicap, gotta get more bets down. The live races at Hollywood and the Los Alamitos simulcasts are about to begin.

To buy some time, I use the computer to advance-bet the rest of the Stockton and Golden Gate races. Good move.

The boss shows up and leads me from the media room to the directors’ lounge, where I was supposed to meet him an hour ago.

Impressive place. Classy. Immaculate. Free food!

I begin reorganizing my programs but realize something is missing: my car keys. I look in my briefcase and rummage through the papers I have spread across the table. No luck.

I run back to the press room. No luck.

Panic-stricken, I run down to the car and look through the window at the ignition. No keys.

I run back to the directors’ lounge and look again in my briefcase. The keys are there.

Iamamoron.

Nevertheless, I am in the directors’ lounge, a posh notch above the Turf Club, and I’ve made it through the crush, not missing a bet and not about to.

Stockton and Golden Gate have finished. Good riddance! Handicapping only Hollywood Park and Los Alamitos is a breeze. Unfortunately, picking a winner isn’t, for me anyway. The boss is doing all right. So is the entire table behind me. Their celebrating after each race is grating on my nerves.

I try Times handicapper Fred Robledo’s best bet, Star Of Greenwood. It finishes fourth. I vow to stay away from his picks--and later learn he has five winners.

I get tips on two races from another Times horse guy, Bob Mieszerski. The first one flops, so I stay away from the second. It wins.

I get desperate and try one of Times handicapper Curtis Crayon’s picks. No dice.

Nothing is working, so after the Hollywood card ends I decide to advance-bet the final three races at Los Alamitos, using the ever-effective eenie-meenie-minie-mo method, and call it a night. I’ve burned enough hay, now it’s time to hit it. I’ve got another day of this ahead of me.

*

After spending the night tossing and turning, half awake and dreaming of getting to the Woodbine window on time, I arrive at the track Saturday morning a total zombie.

I perk up some after running my Los Al tickets through the computer and learning that two of them are winners, one paying a nifty $19.60.

I shuffle through the Woodbine program and make my picks. Nothing through eight. Finally, in the ninth, Noendtotherainbow and Sir Ebony Knight come in 1-2 to give me my quinella and a whopping $8.40.

Woodbine ends. Another card bites the dust.

Lightattheendofthetunnel.

Bring on the rest! Hollywood’s 14 races (what ever happened to nine?), Stockton’s 13, Golden Gate’s eight, Los Al’s 13 and simulcasts from the New Jersey Meadowlands and Delta Downs. Oh yeah, and the Saturday bonus--14 harness races at Cal-Expo in Sacramento.

Overkilltothemax.

I decide to cheat.

I highlight anything at odds of 4-1 to 8-1 in the harness program and advance-bet the entire card. I do the same with all the Stockton and Golden Gate races that are scheduled in the first hour of the live card at Hollywood Park. OK, I advance-bet the entire Stockton card too. It’s not my money!

While so doing, however, I miss betting the Brooklyn Handicap at Belmont Park. I return to my seat to watch on the terminal as Iron Gavels romps home. No biggie. I had circled Secret Savings on my program.

Worldsworstgambler.

My luck finally begins to change. I hit the winner in the fourth at Golden Gate Park. I hit the Ohio Derby at Thistledown. I miss another bet, at Meadowlands, that would have netted me $9.60. I hit back-to-back harness races.

I overhear Jeff Siegel, a widely known handicapper and horse owner, saying Luthier Fever is looking “unbelievable down there.” I rush to bet the horse. It wins.

Suddenly, I have a voucher worth more than $100 and some cash in my pocket. I get cocky and start making bigger bets, more exotic bets. Trifectas, pick-threes, more quinellas. . . . Big mistake. The lucky streak is over.

Not that I’m complaining. Golden Gate ends, then so does Stockton. Cal Expo? Who cares? I’ve made all my bets and the tickets are in my pocket. Los Al? Same thing. OK, so I cheated by advance-betting most of that card too.

Hollywood Park ends at 11:30 and I’ve got $13 of my original $250. That’s a $13 profit to me.

Oh yeah, I’ve still got bets down on six races at Los Al and Cal-Expo. Win, place . . . who cares?!

Showmethewaytogohome.