For my ideal racing day, eleven races is probably three too many. But yesterday, eleven races weren’t enough. It’s not like we were raking in the cash at the windows, either. It was just one of those gorgeous days with the right, eclectic, ever-rotating group of people at the Paddock Bar. I had interesting conversations with, among others, a famed thoroughbred racing blogger, world-renowned turf journalist, a suntanned blacktopper, and a Joe Pesci soundalike whose politics place him somewhere to the right of Atila the Hun. . .

But none of those fine folks win the prize for the single most interesting conversation I had yesterday. . .that honor goes to a woman from Boston. Nurse by day, superhero by night (or is it the other way round?), for the purposes of this blog post let’s just call her Mary Ellen Moffat.

Mary Ellen regaled us with a story from about 10 years back, when she was a teenaged swimming enthusiast taking advanatage of the ocean on a warm afternoon on Cape Cod. She was doing a vigorous version of the old Australian crawl somewhere around those parts when she felt her right front make contact with an unidentified swimming object. Shortly thereafter she felt a strong pinch on her left forearm and looked down to see that a Nurse shark had attached itself there.

Mary Ellen didn’t panic. Her father, Mr. Moffat, had prepared her for this very moment. She proceeded to make a fist with her right hand and punch the offending sea creature, Klitschko style, until it released and went along on its merry way. There was a lot of blood, and she was a little freaked out, but a few stitches later and she was ready to get back in the water, with a story to tell for life.

Now, I reported on this story yesterday on Twitter and there was some doubt amongst my tweeps (I’m looking at you, Mr. Quigley) as to the veracity of this tale. But based on her general demeanor and the level of detail (not too much, not too little), I am 99% sure that it’s the God’s honest truth. And in the 1% chance it’s not, then the story becomes that I met the greatest liar in the history of the world, one Mary Ellen Moffat. But really, it’s all psychological. You yell baracuda everybody says “Huh? What?” You yell shark, we’ve got a panic on our hands on the Saturday of Opening Weekend.

BANKROLL PLAY:

Race 8: $50 win and place on #5 REACH FOR A PEACH. I like that this runner improved for new trainer Chad Brown in her fisrt start for him, and based on the way she wasn’t bet that day, it seems unlikely she was cranked up for that. She was also a Flow Move up out of that one (she chased a slow pace). The money rider (R-r-r-r-r-ramon) is in the irons today and I think she’ll step up and run well.

MEET TO DATE RESULTS: -200