The Jockey Club on a sunny Sunday afternoon. One breaths the open air, it’s possible to feel elegant, to be alone amidst the crowd, have an excellent espresso and maybe, with a little luck, score a couple of bucks. A good idea. Better than watching television, slouched on a couch.
In the background, the expressway. The cars passing far away seem even peaceful, inoffensive. An airplane glides lazily towards the airport.
Horse racing types: old men of a certain age already, with expressions of experts in horses and dressed as experts losers at horse races. Some very old ladies, with hairdos and sporting their Sunday dresses. A weekend father here and there running on the lawn and playing with the children in front of the stands. In general younger and fatter than the other habitués. Some bright-eyed couples with first time written all over them. They all carry the huge pages with the description of the races, printed in red, folded in four and well held. The race track has a beautiful name, Cidade Jardim – Garden City.
The horses trot precise before the public. Each one a champion. The jockeys, very elegant, look all like winners.
A group of enthusiastic men from Italian descent:
- Ma Domenico plays well.
- Yeah... he know how to bét !
- Ma now what’s the good one, Domenico?
- I will a bet in the a seven... it’s gonna be the a seven, te dico io...
To my right there were three ladies. One thinner and elegant, looking a well lived fifty something and two looking like someone else’s aunts, both over sixty-five, short, fat, wearing glasses and dressed in grey. All three of them with binoculars, all three with the official horse racing publication, all three persistent at betting a little:
- Sirizinha is running today...
- Don’t tell me?!? She’s great.
- And English Lord is in the next race...
- A friend gave me a long skirt of the exact same color of your pants, but I don’t like long skirts....
- You can always wear it to a party...
- Do I go to parties? This is the only place I come to...
- This dapple-grey is good, this one I know, he is the son of Quality Control...
- Easy Go will win...
- I will go with Capitão do Mato...
The three left in a rush to make their bets. The announcer says ‘one minute’.
I went with Easy Go, after them.
Right on the money. I invested the eighty cents profit in an espresso.
