The Ugly Triplet

Hark to an exiled son's appeal,
Maryland!
My Mother State! to thee I kneel,
Maryland!
For life or death, for woe or weal,
Thy peerless chivalry reveal,
And gird they beauteous limbs with steel,
Maryland! My Maryland!

Like any other annual event the Preakness evokes a plethora of memories,the mind has a funny way of prioritizing these collections, there is an inner struggle to force it's way to the forefront of the brain and dominate the recollection process....just like with childhood Chritmasses and Birthdays and special events , one or two stickout more than the others and ultimately one becomes the "pin the tail on the donley" moment that your psyche embraces, for good or bad.... where to begin , where to begin ?

I have spent four Preakness weekends in the confines of Baltimore, twice on the infield of Pimlico and twice in the back alleys and bar rooms of the inner harbour. Of the four,the 1991 race is sharpest. Myself, Rocco, Angelo Coniglione and Frankie Marra drove down to the Preakness early Saturday Morning, we spent the afternoon on the infield listening to the rock & Roll bands and watchin Co-ed Chicken Fights, drinking a cooler of beeeer that we were "allowed" to bring in and washing the beer down with black eyed susans in the blazing sun. The horsies were circling us all day , but as the day progressed we could see less and less ...for a variety of reasons...finally they struck-up the band and Warbled the state song which was strkingly familar to Mrs. O'Tannenbaums' Christmas Tree. I remember climbing up the stantion of the Rock Stage in the center on the infield and catching a birdseye view of the stallions going into the gate.....Hansel won that Rcae, and we lost, but an amazing day just the same...still probably the most surreal sporting event I have attended..........another trip to the charmed City started in Camden yards and an Oriole-Texas game with the extended families... and was followed by a trip to the Rusty Scupper to watch Silver Charm...win the 1997 race.

Twice on race day I found myself attending a friends wedding , in 1994 the Rangers were locked in a death struggle with the hated devils and Das-das Rollie Uncle Den Den Nolan was getting married in St. Thomas Aquinas in the flatbush section of the borough of churches....I was in the wedding party and asked to say the "Prayer of the Faithful"......being a faithful blue seater myself, I could not pass on the oppurtunity to have the congregation join me in asking the Good Lord to intervene on the ice on "our" behalf , and so we all said a prayer for Messier to lead.......sadly the Rangers dropped game 4 in the byrne that night , but we know that part of the story had a happy ending ( more on that in june) ah but i digress...back to the Preakness....as we emerged from the Ceremony part of the day and were about to embark on our trek to the reception , I practiced the art of deception....without any set direction i advised the girls tha Gina wanted all the girls in one limo and the all the guys in the other ...as opposed to staying with your partner...nobody balked, and so me , Donzo, Chico, Mac and Gina's brother Patrick piled into our limo....we prompyly stopped on Flatbush Avenue and bought beer for the ride and tuned into the PREAKNESS.....it should come as no surprise that my namesake "TOBASCO CAT" captured the second jewel that day.
And last year in the splendour of the Columns at Steve Collins' wedding with the Ocean Views on one side and an Army of friends on the other we watched one the Greatest perfomances in Preakness History. Big Brown , remember him? , exploded through the field down the stretch, kind of like birdie two weeks ago. Big brown stoned the field that day, passed them like they were mileposts. Donnie and I stood at the bar in Columns discussing the race for another 9 hours we were so taken aback.


Thus far it's been wine and roses, laughter and sunshine, nothing but good memories. Unfortunately for me , the innocence and sheer joy I should feel on Preakness day was taken away. Sadly each year when i awake on the 3rd saturday in May , one memory suffocates the others, the 2006 Race at Pimlico is the lowest moment in the history of organized racing.

I awoke that day full of promise, a kid in the candy store, armed with a boatload of cash and the confidence of a King, I stormed my way over to Monmouth Park. i honestly remember feeling euphoric as i sat at the lady's Secret solo. I drank Cold Beer and felt chills as i placed my wages, 200 across on #8 , 5 exacta on #8 and the field, 5 triple on # 8 and the field & the field .....it was not a wager but a loan , I would return to reclaim my money from the window after the results were final. I stopped by the souvenier stand and bought a commemrative Preakness T-Shirt, I contempleted buying a $500 framed photo of my friend winning the Derby a fortnight prior,i'll be back I told the man, i'll be back. I called my Mom at home and took her bets over the phone and placed a few wagers for her, she asked me who i liked and I told there was "NO" race today, there would be no contest it was a battle for exotics only , the winner was predetermined, the TRIPLE CROWN was in reach, it was just a waiting game.. I dabbled on a few races and then returned to the safety of my backyard, as i left the track the Metsies had taken a 4-0 lead over the Yankess....all is good.

I returned to the safety of my backyard and the world turned on a dime, Billy Wags walked the bases loaded in an infamous meltdown moment, the mets would loose 5-4 in an extra frame or two. and by now you should recall what happened at the head of the stretch at Pimlico , a gate malfunction is what THEY would call it , the #8 horse burst through the gate before anyone else and tore down the stretch, mechanical malfunction, human error, whatever.....never should have happned....too much at stake.....the race should have been postponed a half an hour , everyone should have been taken out of the gate and had another walk around, but instead they gave my boy a once over and sent him back , go back to your post, go back to your desk , they sent Barbaro to his death. The sight of the ambulance.....the sight of that Hind leg dangling....unfortunately those images will never go away.

I will bet the race, I will watch them sing Maryland my Maryland , but in 2006 they did not gird Barbaros beauteous limbs with steel, and that is what i will recall on the 3rd Saturday in may forever more...forever more.