Page 22 - March 2009 The Game

22 The Game, March 2009 Shoo- y Pye
Moral Hazard
Canada’s Thoroughbred Racing Newspaper
A Head at the Wire
A Series of Real Life Stories by Paddy Head
Get Tied On
After my escape from the
clutches of Fat Tony, life settled
into a familiar routine—not that a jockey’s routine is ever mundane. The odds on my mounts had dropped considerably since the days I rode 99-1 shots. I was hovering around 15-1 except when I rode The Heckler who went off as one of the favourites. Despite my long odds for winning, I was doing better than another woman jockey, Suzie Pye.
swore that no one would be interested in the mare, not with her dismal Form. It would be an easy win, he said, and ll the coffers for Suzie.
Hilary was nervous enough about riding Suzie’s beloved horse but the added stress of a possible claim left her nerves frayed. She begged me to help her talk JC out of entering the mare. I went with her to JC’s barn.
“Ah, Chickey,” he said, a misnomer he thought was endearing, “you no worry ‘bout losing the mare. She have an easy eld, she get in light, she win.” It was that simple as far as he was concerned.
Suzie had nominated me the contact person while she was away and would be phoning me after the race. That was my only part in this deal. I suggested to Hilary that she turn the mount over to someone else so she wouldn’t be blamed if plans went awry. When the overnight came out, there was Twiggy T in the three hole of the claiming race with Hilary on. Uneasy though she was, Hilary decided she would take care of the mare and see that no harm came to her in the race.
I picked up several of Denise’s mounts on that cold, December day and had a win and a couple of seconds. By the time the last race rolled around, I was sitting in front of the TV screen celebrating with a bottle of Michelob.
The break was clean and the horses all took their expected places. The
two speed horses went to the lead and Twiggy tucked in behind on the rail. All went according to plan until half way down the homestretch. Twiggy was still tucked in on the rail, the speed horses were tiring and the closers
were coming from behind. Twiggy and Hilary were caught in a traf c jam, desperately looking for room. At the seventy yard pole, Twiggy barely squeezed through between the tiring leaders. A closer was well into stride on the outside while the grey mare struggled to get her momentum. She fought valiantly and nished within a head at the wire.
I knew Hilary and JC would be disappointed but at least they’d made some money for Suzie. And then
I heard the dreaded words of the announcer, “Number three, Twiggy T, has been claimed.” The nightmare had come true.
There was no celebration that night. We sat in my apartment, a morose trio staring at the phone. At eight o’clock sharp, its ring stabbed the silence. I turned to JC. “I think it’s for you.”
I learned a new phrase in
February- “moral hazard”.
How it was used made me
pay attention more than just
the phrase itself. By now, most of
you have heard about the colossal economic meltdown that seems to
be affecting, well, THE WHOLE WORLD! We at the race track seem to be immune from such affairs, although it will have an impact if owners are cutting back on stock or claiming
many times in the lives of those who are involved with addicts. They try to help the individual, but often tend to take the soft approach and in the end do more harm than good. It doesn’t matter if you’re related to or simply a friend. Now, the term addict is rather harshly viewed by society in general. We’re all addicted to something- for me it’s de nitely coffee, the stronger, the better. Can I live without it? Absolutely not! I went coffee free
Suzie hailed from Atlanta, Georgia. Her southern drawl matched her
way of moving, slow and easy.
Her favourite snack was a southern delicacy known as ‘shoo- y pie’, which is basically cake soaked in molasses. (She was fortunate to tip the scales on the light side.) In the jocks’ room, she was popular as much for her entertainment value as her friendship. Her frequent disarray provided comic relief from our risky profession. Suzie Pye was her own comedy show.
less. I watched a documentary on America’s, (and now everyone else’s), disaster known as the economy and while well versed in the events I was intrigued by many of the phrases that were bandied about. The sub-prime mortgages were referred to as “toxic assets”, as opposed to just “high risk”. In the end, the banks weren’t given “bailouts”, wait a minute, yes they were. In the summer of 2008, institutions fell like dominos. First, Bear Stearns, who bought up billions of the “toxic assets” and also issued insurance on them, went belly up
for almost a week once and thought
I’d died. A good example of dealing with moral hazard is found in the New Testament in the story commonly known as the Prodigal Son. A wealthy man’s youngest son wants to leave home and wants his inheritance now! The father, wisely knowing it would be a waste of time arguing with the boy, gives him his wish. Soon the son has blown all his money (surprised?), and can only get a job feeding pigs.
He was so hungry that he would have loved to eat the pig food. But the next verse is signi cant: Luke 15:17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!’”.
with Chaplain Shawn
When the buzzer rang to call us
out to the saddling paddock, Suzie
was usually completely disorganized. “Where’s ma helmet?” she asked, frantically searching the room. Or, “Have ya’ll seen ma whip?” She would never have made it to the post on time without our help. We made sure she had the appropriate silks and helmet cover, the right number of goggles and her whip. We also double checked to make certain she had the correct arm number. (I once saw her check that number three times before she found the right saddling stall.)
in seven days. In response, the U.S. government “loaned”, (gave), J.P. Morgan 30 billion dollars to buy Bear Stearns, (or B.S. for short, which seems more appropriate). J.P. bought B.S. for $2 a share (they offered $4
but the feds thought that wouldn’t look right and made them half it). B.S. was 1/3 employee owned and at one point was worth $30 a share- have a nice day while you clean out your desk. This was only the rst hurdle.
I think we have to let things take their natural course in order to let recovery happen. If a bank has screwed up, (and let’s face it, this is
all just plain good old greed), then
you have to let it die. Will it hurt to
see many lose their jobs? Sure it will. Will ngers be pointed and blame laid? Absolutely. What did the people from AIG do with the taxpayer’s money- partied on, dude. Because they were rescued from a disaster of their own making, their attitude was more of
Suzie had only one consistent mount, a mare named Twiggy T. Twiggy raced in her mother’s silks though for all intents and purposes, she was Suzie’s horse. The mare was trained by J C Gilbert, the Cuban trainer who had given me my earlier schooling. At
the age of four, Twiggy had won only one race. Terri ed of losing her, Suzie insisted she run for allowance.
In the weeks to follow, Fannie
Mae and Freddie Mac, the two
largest mortgage companies in the U.S., were taken over by the Federal Housing Finance Agency. (Gee, for an administration that believed in the free market and less regulations, they sure seemed to be involved a lot). Next to go were Lehman Brothers and AIG, the world’s largest underwriters of commercial and industrial insurance, until the Federal Reserve Bank
one who has pulled it off, rather than gratitude for a lifeline. When I see an alcoholic drinking after staying sober, the rst words out of their mouth are: “I can handle it.”
In December of ’74, some extra racing days were added to the end of the winter meet due to cancellations. Denise Boudrot had gone to the warmer climate of South Carolina with her contract holder and Suzie had her ight arranged to go home to Atlanta for the holidays. With the added
races, she gave JC permission to run Twiggy if a race came up with perfect conditions, non-winner of the year. While Suzie was away, Hilary Brown would be the mare’s rider.
the Associated Press, “The following week, AIG executives participated in a lavish California retreat which cost $444,000 and featured spa treatments, banquets, and golf outings. It was reported that the trip was a reward for top-performing life-insurance agents planned before the bailout. Less than 24 hours after the news of the party was rst reported by the media, it was reported that the Federal Reserve had agreed to give AIG an additional loan of up to $37.8 billion”. AP also reported that on October 17 AIG executives spent another $86,000
by sympathy or pity, but we are, in fact, what AA calls “Living the Lie”. We’re drawn into that person’s world of addiction and lifestyle. If we’re
JC had long sought the ‘perfect’ race where Twiggy’s chances for her second win would be excellent. When the conditions came out, there it was: non-winner of the year for llies and mares, three and up. One problem—it was a $5000 claimer. Hilary and I both felt it wasn’t worth the risk but JC
on a luxurious English hunting trip. After their lavish spending was once again a hot news topic, the company responded with the following remark, “We regret that this event was not canceled.
Tired of being broke? Sick of living paycheck to paycheck? Want to someday buy a house?
gave AIG an $85 billion “loan” on September 16, 2008. Fortunately, AIG did not forget how to have fun during these troubled times. According to
It doesn’t matter if you’re addicted to alcohol, drugs, gambling, porn, cigarettes - you name it. The more we try to make recovery easy, the less likely it is for that person to actually recover. Many times we’re moved
This brings us back to my new phrase, “moral hazard”. In a nutshell, it means “If I bail you out from something you did, what incentive do you have not to do it again?” I see this
The Jake Howard Center proudly presents: Banking 101- Join Chaplain Shawn Kennedy and experts from TD Canada Trust for a special 4 week session on the following Wednesdays in March: 4, 11, 18, 25 Noon, lunch included.
to help others, it must be tough love. Since we’re all addicted to something, we dare not point ngers, but the consequences of some addiction is more dangerous than others. And that’s when the only help we can give is after they’ve come to their senses.
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