The Historic Return of Announcer George Withermane

The customary walking of the track before a race at sunrise
Floods my reluctant homesickness.
Stale coffee and polished leather secretes from the surrounding stables
And the visiting big rigs spew out hallucinogenic fumes.
Fresh horseshit wakes me up like nothing else though. Reminds me I’m alive.
I remember these days, when all my friends were Mexicans, my women too.
Sinking into day from night and back, never quite brushing the tequila
From our yellowing teeth.
Fat owners stuffed inside their box seats dreaming of being richer, aged bourbon,
Leggy Mares, and violent Stallions, while their frumpy wives who sip dry martinis under
Hats shaped like umbrellas in the shade of the grandstands ominous awning.
Their spoiled grandkids leaning over the rails, ice cream stuffed fists,
Inhaling Lemonade to make sour faces at the horses.
I sit down at my old chair and microphone, binoculars around my neck. I can see it all.
The racehorses. The horserace.

Well friends I’m honored to be back in the box. It’s been a long twelve years.
As you are all aware we’re here for charity today so get out there and bet on the horse
That’ll best feed the children or cure cancer. Do some continent some good.
It’s a beauty of a day, God is with us, and I wonder who He’s picked to win.
Ok, here they come and here we go,
With a full field of thirteen,
Welcome to the Hambletonian at the Meadowlands.
2.5 Million dollars at stake here beneath a lucky blue sky, see those horses trot.

People are you with me now; all drivers are lined up at the starting gate,
And they’re off!
Samurai Surprise snatches the lead from the get-go.
Mad Dash rounds out second with Doctor
Diabolical trailing one and a half lengths behind.
Challenging third is Cash Money Messiah and Eternal Talent, toe to toe here and Mad Dash makes his move for first, on the outside leaving Samurai Surprise close behind.
Locked in last is Total Testimony huffing dust and not too far
In front of him is Life is Long struggling for the eleventh spot with Governor Flash.
Look at this! Look at this! Approaching third is El Presidente
With a tremendous trot and here they come passing the grandstands for the first time,
A blur of thunder!
El Presidente pining for the lead now, with a crack of the whip from the driver,
And he assumes first, ladies and gentlemen, and Samurai Surprise is off stride,
Off stride and slowing down, finally letting Grand Inquisitor move in to the mix, with Mr. Profits Prophet trailing behind.
What a wicked display by El Presidente.
Making the turn into the third quarter of this mile is El Presidente and coming up through The inside is Eternal Talent, whoa, whoa, Eternal Talent is making a run for first, shaking Cash Money Messiah out of the running
As he falls back in fifth now behind Poncho Pilot.
Here they come, once more flying past the grandstands.
A violent rumbling stampede!
El Presidente, Eternal Talent gnashing at the bit, necks stretched out toward the finish Line and by god it appears El Presidente and Eternal Talent’s wheels are stuck,
One horse dragging the other toward the finish line
With the pack chasing about two lengths behind.
They don’t seem to be able to separate themselves from one another,
Eternal Talent’s left wheel is stuck on El Presidente’s right.
Someone must slow down for Christ’s sake!
We have the ambulance and Veterinarian trackside for such emergencies.
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to… and El Presidente and Eternal Talent
Cross the finish line tantamount.
In third is Mad Dash. Fourth Governor Flash.
Judges say El Presidente wins by a chin hair!
The Camera does not lie!
El Presidente takes home the pot!

I drop my binoculars and jump down to the winner’s circle.
El Presidente’s grandfather took the pot for me when I was just starting out,
Boy, and from those loins I reap pay again.
The blood in him is the blood that was in the very first standardbred in the American Circuit back in ‘78, 1878, the horse this race is named after.
Hambletonian’s trotting in his grave.
Sun spilling on glistening horses, wet from exhaustion.
Driver’s in purple and yellow and green and white, line up and smile,
I smile; dull false teeth from the time that horse got me in the mouth,
Never stand behind one, spooky bastards.
Eyes on either side of their face, scared of a fly, these damn animals.
The wind knocks my hat off,
Carried in the wind toward the grandstands. It’s some prize today,
I squint and make out my family.
My wife, a raisin from years of sun, tugs at my grandchildren,
Leaning over the fence making faces at the horses.
My smile thins and falls to a frown. Festive fists loosen.
I just remembered this is for charity.