Somewhere, no doubt my father was smiling Saturday.
Dad like the ponies.
Actually, dad loved the ponies. He was a throwback, an old-time handicapper who every day matched wits with all the other cast of characters that seem to surround the horse racing racket.
Dad loved everything about them, their eccentricities, about how it allowed those at the very upper echelons of society to mingle with the masses.
Yep, he loved horse racing.
Which is why he would have loved what American Pharoah did on Saturday.
It's in my Monday print column.
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