Frankenstory Friday: “Frankencapping”

When I told my sister “T” that I’d be spending the day with my Dad tomorrow, drinking and betting on the Kentucky Derby (and all the races leading up to it), she said, “I . . . I really don’t know how you do it. I don’t think I could do it.”

I’ve experienced “Kentucky Derby Day” at the races with my Dad a few times before. As a kid, we just watched “the” race. But over the past several years, I’ve been picking him up and taking him to the club level of our local race track for a day of fodder and wagering. And I have to admit, it does turn out to be a pretty long damn day.

My reply to my sister was, “Well, I think it’s because your kid is all grown up. It’s been a while since you’ve cared for a child. My kids are still little. And, being with Dad all day is kind of like taking care of a little kid. It’s all about the questions. ‘Are you comfortable? Are you okay? Are you hungry? Do you need help getting to the bathroom? Let me know when you get tired and I’ll go get the car.’ See? It’s really not all that different, except that this baby drinks beer and will have at least a grand in his diaper.”

Frank spends a lot of time handicapping horse races. A LOT of time. Ever since I can remember, he’s been working on a “system” that he swears will make my brothers and sisters all millionaires. He’d say, “When I die, I’ll leave it to you guys so you can make a lot of money.” And I’d say, “Uh, why do we have to wait until you die?”

We’re talking YEARS of work. Decades.

He still uses a 12” wooden ruler, a pencil, and an adding machine for his “Frankencapping,” even though he’s got a brand new desktop in his office. (Which he keeps breaking. And blaming the error on AT&T.) He only uses the computer to look up race results on the internet.

And lately, his results have been scaring the shit out of us.

A month ago, he handicapped a race that, if wagered on properly, would have won him $330,000.

On Easter, he had me print results out for some races that had taken place a few days prior.

“Gimme the first four horses for the third race,” he said.

“Four, One, Seven, Two,” I said.

“Huh. I had Four-One-Two-Seven. I just can’t seem to get that third one right.”

Excuse me?

“Dad! What did the Superfecta Box pay out?”

“Let’s see . . . $52,870.”

“Fifty thousand dollars?!”

“You’re God-damned right.”

My dad. Handicapped a race that would have put over $50,000 in his pocket.

MY dad. The guy that calls a bottle of 409 “the 9-1-1” and claims that the secret to getting his sheets clean is to put Lysol in the washer. He even puts it on his hands. So, not only does he LOOK like Gus from “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” but now he’s even keeping a spray bottle full of Lysol handy for itches, scratches, and stains. Seriously. You can’t make this shit up.

So, who knows. Maybe we’ll turn out to be big winners tomorrow.

I’ll be Tweeting from the track. Wish us luck!

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05 2009

5 Comments Add Yours ↓

The upper is the most recent comment

  1. 1

    Is it a SECRET family betting system? Because I sure could use $330,000! [Can't we all?]

    Have fun with your dad-hope you get rich tomorrow!

  2. Nic #

    Have lots of fun watching the ponies!

  3. Jaymie #

    Sounds so fun! I used to love going to the races with grandpa. He would give me and Lisa each two dollars to bet on a horse. That was long ago.

  4. Nic #

    So did you guys bet on the long short for the $port of it? :0)

  5. 5

    Good! Keeps him occupied.

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