Way back when I first started this site, I contemplated posting something about the video game series known as Gallop Racer, that was not widely known here in the states but did develop a bit of a cult following throughout the life cycle of the now obsolete Playstation 2 video game system. Somewhere along the way covering actual living thoroughbreds just seemed to have more zest and reader appeal, rendering the idea one that has been stocked away on the storage shelf of ideas for quite some time (queue the final scene from “Raiders of the Lost Ark” for dramatic effect). That is, until I found this video today.
Someone (bless their soul) has gone through the trouble of recreating many of the top horses of the past few years, including Curlin, Zenyatta, Big Brown, and Well Armed (no Zarkava?? I guess they only send “virtual Zarky” out on the grass?) in putting together this fantastic clip of a fictional race between them.
If you’ve never played the Gallop Racer games, they were a bit too cartoonish in terms of presentation for my liking (I would’ve preferred a more mature “Madden-esque” approach to the menus, etc.), but the racing action itself was highly addictive and the best produced thus far covering our sport. Horses tended to have particular running styles (front runner, stalker, mid pack, and late closer), as well as preferred distances. Some thrived at particular tracks. Their ability to run an all around solid race was heavily impacted by their positioning (run a front runner at the back of the pack and they were sure to get upset), any physical contact with other horses, pace setup, and most importantly, the timing of their jockey asking them for their all out drive to the finish. Do everything right, and your horse was able to run the race of his life. Mess up even one of those factors and you were suddenly vulnerable, even on top flight horses, of being gunned down in the stretch.
This game had it all. If you could get past the anime themed user interface (which was difficult for me), there was actually a deep simulation here that involved breeding, training, plotting multi-race courses for your thoroughbreds, and even knock-off versions of races like the Kentucky Derby and Breeders’ Cup Classic. Heck, you could even bet if you wanted to.
I won’t spend time harping on some of the inaccuracies here – I’ll leave that to you all. Instead, just know that if you needed any further proof that yours truly is border-line insane, then know that I actually screamed at the virtual jockey (virtual Robby?) aboard the virtual Curlin to “get him off the rail!!!! What the heck are you doing out in front????” No doubt the latter was heavily influenced by his being stuck in the 1 hole, and thankfully “virtual Robby” is able to unleash virtual Curlin’s devastating giant strides at just the right time to bring the good guy home on top. 
Yes, I’m admittedly reaching a bit for material here, as I’m absolutely on edge wondering if there’s still a chance to see Queen Rachel in the Preakness. It seems to be getting slimmer by the hour, with Jackson now commenting that he’s not going to rush her into a showdown with the boys. Can’t say I really disagree with that, although in my heart I want to see her very badly.
In other random news, a friend of mine clued me into the fact that Cal Ripken Jr., Major League Baseball’s “iron man” and a boyhood hero of mine (ironic considering Curlin is horse racing’s “iron horse”), apparently took in the Kentucky Derby and had himself quite a day at the betting window. Evidently he was on local radio here in Baltimore today talking about his experience, although I’m unable to find a source/link to share. Yes, he had Mine that Bird, and when you hear why it’s enough to make any Orioles fan like myself sick with self-disgust that we didn’t see the same angles and at least have $2 on him.
The angles? Mine that Bird was the #8 horse, Cal’s number. His jockey was “Cal”vin Borel. Oh yeah, and there’s that whole “bird” aspect, considering Cal played for the Orioles.
How’d I miss that?
Here’s a related true story I’ll share with you, and that only my older brother and family could vouch for:
The year was 1983. I was barely 5-years-old and had just been brought into the fascinating world of baseball card collecting, following in the footsteps of my brother. I had been raised to be a Phillies fan. We lived in Elkton, MD, which is torn between loyalties to Baltimore and Philadelphia sports teams, but tends to trend more to the Philly side of the spectrum (get it? gratuitous 70’s/80’s Philadelphia reference there). My mother’s family were all Phillies fans. My father’s family were all Phillies fans. They bought me hats, plastic helmets, pennants, and anything else that they obviously assumed might brainwash me into their cult of “Phanatic” worship.
I would have none of this, however. A true rebel since birth (having been born within the confines of the rebellious state of Alabama) , I opened a pack of baseball cards one morning in the family car, and promptly discovered Cal’s 1983 topps card. I don’t even need the image below to remember it. I can still see the orange uniform, the upper-cut swing, the boyish youth of a player who seems to be clearly having a world of fun in major league ball.
“Mom!” I announced. “I think the Orioles are now my favorite team, and this guy is my favorite player.”
I had done the unthinkable. I had announced my secession from the Phillies loyalty I was expected to revere, and fired upon Fort Sumter all in one fell swoop. As I recall, a strange “don’t worry, this is probably just a phase” type of silent concern fell upon the rest the family. Actually it wasn’t quite so dramatic, as my brother had broken ranks earlier and declared his allegiance with the Houston Astros, having been moved by the tears of defeat cried by outfielders Jose Cruz and Ceasar Cedeno during their extra-innings phenomenon that was the 1980 National League Championship Series. I suppose that makes me more of a follower than a trend setter, but as I recall I seem to have had no idea that the Orioles played in a town just a few miles away, and whenever I heard reference to the Houston Oilers football team I was convinced the sports announcer discussing them was a fool who was mistaking the Orioles for the Astros.
In other words, my mental aptitude was not yet sharpened. I was naive, easily coerced, and seemingly wholly incapable of pronounced individual action.The alarming pronouncement sent shock waves through the family car that still reverberate to this day. And, much like my kiss-of-death Kentucky Derby selections, while the Orioles would win the World Series that season over none other than the Phillies, it would be the last echo of their true glory years that stretched back to the late 60’s. There would be no more championships after that year, only heartbreak, resounding defeats, and 0-21 beginnings to disastrous season after disastrous season (and 3 for 1 trades for, of all things, a Houston Astros first basemen that we shall not speak of in exchange for future Hall of Famers Curt Schilling, Steve Finley, and all-star pitcher Pete Harnisch).
In fact, I’m quite certain that at some level my frustration with baseball, by virtue of being an Orioles fan throughout the wasteland that was the 1980s and early 1990s, is what led me to seek out other opportunities to fill the ever increasing void in my sports obsessed mind. In time I would take to the football field, and throw myself completely into dreams of gridiron conquest and glory. We had some fun along the way, most notably when our High School team won the Class 2A North Region championship, before being absolutely annihilated in the State playoffs in front of a record home crowd. Would you believe I still wake up at night thinking that we’ve got one more chance to mount a comeback in that game? Sad but true. I have that dream about twice a year it seems.
Ultimately though, it was horse racing where I found everything I was looking for. Competition. Excellence. A chance to apply intellectual skill. Gut-wrenching drama, and of course the kind of excitement that moves you to stand in your seat and scream at the top of your longs attempting to procure a favorable outcome by sheer will power alone, if possible.
So, in a strange and difficult to follow path meandering through my childhood to early adulthood, I’ve gone from Cal Ripken to Curlin (and horse racing in general). Somehow those two worlds collided this past weekend. Two iron men who helped navigate their sports through troubled waters just by showing up every day and giving their best effort. Cal is largely credited with helping “save baseball” during the infamous strike era in the mid 90’s. Curlin, while not quite the universally unifying force he could’ve been had horse racing been higher on the national conscience, was a horse who brought fans together in a way only a special few can. Anytime you get groups of fans competing for the right to consider themselves “THE biggest fan”, you know you’ve tapped into something special.
That something special, at least in my life, has been both Cal and Curlin, and without either of them I probably wouldn’t be posting things here for public consumption. Indeed, in the words of Jerry Garcia, “what a long, strange trip it’s been.” Long? Quite. Strange? Unceasingly. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for the world though.
Happy Friday everyone – and an early Happy Mother’s Day to any out there that happen to be reading along. I’ll probably be taking a weekend off here to focus on chores around the house and recharge the old mental batteries in anticipation of a big week coming up. I’ll be attending the Black Eyed Susan (Friday) and Preakness (Saturday) festivities live next weekend, and it goes without saying that the mental marathon that is handicapping so many races and posting about them is already looming on the horizon as an imposing obstacle to overcome. Luckily I’ve got some vacation time to burn at work (ssshhh! don’t mention that to Cal or Curlin).
Here’s hoping that when all is said and done we might see Curlin’s future girlfriend, Rachel Alexandra running in the Preakness. After all, with Curlin and Cal gone, I’ve got somewhat of a shorage on the hero front. There’s still a void left to fill. And you know what? Watching Rachel Alexandra run away with the Oaks last weekend, I couldn’t help but reflect upon the similarity in terms of emtional feeling between that moment and the ‘83 baseball card experience with Ripken. It was as if I had just peeled open the pack, removed the first card, and stared in amazement at a new hero.
“Amy!” I believe I shouted. “She’s the best horse I’ve seen since Curlin!!”
And thus a new love affair has begun.
What has always ‘amazed’ me about CAL RIPKEN’S career – is the number of honrons this beisbol star has plunked – 431 dingers!!! NOT BAD FOR A SHORTSTOP.
I for one loved the Gallop Racer series. If they ever announced a PS3 version I would go out buy myself a PS3 without second thought. A US version of Winning Post would do it too.
My biggest gripe on the Gallop Racing series is that when the horses fan out in the stretch the controls often seem sluggish when trying to change lanes. Which is the worst possible time to be fighting the controls. I’ve lost many a race simply because another horse moves in front of you and you can’t get out from behind them in time even though there are openings on either side. Infuriating is a good word for it.
Most of the time though you slip into that hole and your horse explodes down the stretch for you. Very satisfying.
Readers ’tis all true.
His love for the Orioles turned out to be no passing phase, unlike (thankfully) his fascination with the music of Marie Fredriksson and Per Gessle.
And while you have turned to horse racing, I have returned to the Phillies and am busy raising Carlos Ruiz’s biggest fan.
Two parting thoughts- I recall you watching an O’s game in the late 1980’s and exclaiming, upon witnessing a Ken Gerhart homer, “my god, he’s the best I’ve seen since Wayne Gross!” Sometimes, history repeats itself, or nearly so.
Also, I must say that I am disappointed that you did not work mention of Tito Landrum into this blog. It was the perfect opportunity.. And you know as well as I do that somewhere out there, in a room with the blinds drawn and a ceiling fan turning slowly overhead… Tito is sitting in front of a flickering computer screen with eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep wearing a heavily stained “wife beater” sleeveless shirt… repeatedly Googling his name… hoping.. just hoping… that someone remembers…..
We remember Tito!
THE INEPTITUDE OF THE ORIOLES RECENTLY HAS BEEN BOUNDLESS. BRING BACK ‘BOOG’!!!
Kevin,
this just in…have it on good authority; from a rep of the MJC, that if Rachel Alexandra does officially commit to running in the Preakness Stakes, that the connections of four of the colts previously confirmed and/or considering contesting the middle jewel of the TC have told authorities at the MJC this morning that they would not run their colts in the classic. One of those groups to contact the MJC this morning to notify them of this decision was indeed that of the Derby winner Mine That Bird.
Though nothing has been officially released to the press, apparently the MJC is a-buzz with concerns of the affect this will have regarding several aspects of Maryland’s biggest racing day of the year. According to inside sources at the MJC, tickets sales are much lower than expected and if the defection of the Kentucky Derby winner does hold true, it won’t matter how good Rachel Alexandra really is, ticket sales are expected to plummit without the derby winner on board. Add to this the negative impact to the total wagering handle on the Preakness Stakes that the MJC expects if even a few (if not several) colts pull out or skip the event altogether, and it is quite apparent that excitement and fiscal boost that this day gives to Maryland racing and its’ fans could turnout to be “disaterous”.
Kevin, On a similar wave length, I woke up and decided to code a cartoon horse who gives legit racing tips, one a day. Check her out at http://funonmars.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-phone-idea.html
Sally
Wow…trying to reply here from my mobile device as I’m away from home…hopefully this works:
Zyskander – don’t tell me our beloved Zyskander is also a baseball fan? You never cease to amaze me. Never! Bring back Boog indeed…and Gus Triandos while we’re at it!
Vouched for (do I have to call you that or can I just say Mike?) – I believe you are mistaken…the memory you site was actually Floyd Rayford who I described as “the next Wayne Gross.” I would’ve used Glen Gulliver, but he didn’t quite pan out as I had hoped. Actually, while that’s obviously a joke, I do recall once predicting that Chris Hoiles would be an MVP catcher.
Anonymous – sounds to me like they are scared straight. Know what, I wouldn’t run ‘em against her either. They don’t stand a chance! If the networks, and the MJC were smart, they’d be hyping the hell out of Rachel Alexandra. A filly in the Preakness? Obviously I’m away from a PC, but man, hasn’t it been since like the 1920’s since a filly one? Time to make history, if you ask me.
Sally – my heart is absolutely singing with pride that you have launched on blogspot!!! Yes!!!!!! As soon as I’m able, I’m headed over and will add you to the blogroll here.
All – Looks like it’s all but official! Jess wants her to run in the Preakness! Go Jess! Go Rachel!
http://www.thoroughbreddailynews.com/intraday_single.cfm?type=news&alertID=757&CFID=32623165&CFTOKEN=16198268
I’m not diggin’ the music on that thing.
@rifkind – LMAO, yeah, the interface needed a major upgrade. That and the cartoonish menus were my biggest pet peeves, but I agree with Nick on everything else.
@Nick – sorry I forgot to reply to you in my first post…not really adept at this mobile posting thing. Spot on, man, spot on! Loved that game as well. I actually search from time to time WISHING they would make a PS3 version.
I think they actually have some cool racing games over in Japan, where the sport is much more popular. Evidently they don’t think they sell well enough over here to bring ‘em stateside. Tis’ a shame, indeed.
I just realized that’s Zenyatta on the outside chasing Curlin to finish 2nd. Man, that’s like a dream Exacta for me!
When ise was in my teenie-weenies played BEISBOL rather well. Could hit, hit with power, run, had an arm like a cannon; but was fashionably attired in green during the 60’s in a warm place. BEISBOL has always been my first love. Where we used to live in TAXACHUSEETS – MARION to be exact used to ‘run’ into DOM DIMAGGIO at the local muffin joint and have some ‘talks’ on how BEISBOL used to be read that he just passed this past week. Bring back TRIANDOS and HOYT ‘the-knuckler’. My favorite of all time was FRANK’the-donkey’THOMAS – talk about a guy who could ‘blast’ a baseball when he connected – couldn’t field a lick but the sonofagun connected every once in a while. MUCH BETTER THAN DAVIE KINGMAN.
‘for WILLIE MAYS on his birthday earlier this week – the most complete ballplayer in the lasy 50 years’…
THE SADNESS OF OUTFIELDERS
i never want to grow old
like Willie Mays
i hope his age never shows
Willie Mays jogs toward centerfield
and doesn’t see the reality
that it is 1972 and he is playing for the NYMets
and that he is no longer young
that he is not ‘The Say-Hey Kid’ anymore
And I watch him move without grace
Willie Mays the most nimble of outfielders
bends down to field an easy single
a nothing ground ball to the outfield
in a game that doesn’t matter
and a base hit that turns into tragedy
as the ball rolls past his outstretched gloved hand
And for a moment he can not believe
the ball rolling behind him
not entrapped in the leather glove
that made a mockery
of so many sure hits
in that ‘basket style sweeping’ catch
And I begin to cry
remembering the Mays of 1957
the Giant who
swatted three homers
against the Cubs
as I watched
from my outfield seat at the Polo Grounds
marveling at how the white baseballs
seemed to leap out of the stadium
when Willie snapped that perfect swing
Willi is always the ‘Say-Hey Kid’
while Mr. Leo smiles acknowledging perfection
Watching ‘the kid’ spinning throwing tumbling
like some continuously twirling top
only to lose inertia and fall returning to earth
the way he did in the World Series of ‘54
to rob Cleveland’s Vic Wertz in black-and-white footage
of another yet amazing over-the-shoulder catch
Just proving he could do the impossible
Sprinting turning his back to the infield
Running into our youthful memories
And I weep not just for Willie
but for myself as I want never
to grow old to grow old as Willie Mays
looked this day and how embarrassed
finally to be relegated
to play first base for the Mets
Because first basemen are always ‘butter-fingered’ or ‘has-beens’
especially when they join ‘the mahvelous Mets’
A freakish attraction of what once was
And I never want to fumble
reaching for something
that isn’t there anymore
And I still cry as I can remember
how old he and I became
when that easy ground ball
rolled by Willie and me forever.
About This Poem:
my first baseball game was at the now gone POLO GROUNDS whem WILLIE bombed-out three homers out of the park – BEISBOL has been my love ever since…
[...] Preakness victory. Yes, I wept a little bit, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Watching magnificent horses that I’ve fallen in love with prevail in their defining moments has that effect on me. I suppose it’s a bit like a proud parent, [...]
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