NHC Blog: Five Days in Las Vegas

Well, that wraps my first National Handicapping Tournament in Las Vegas. Thanks to the NTRA staff, who were both inviting and gracious, and to both old acquaintances and new, just great travel pals in general. Here's a rundown of the week.

WEDNESDAY: I arrive in Vegas and get settled in at Treasure Island, then head to the NTRA's battle room to say hello to friends. I'm surprised at the scope of things. Pretty much the entire NTRA staff is out here, each with a specific task that helps the tournament run smoothly. There are stacks of paper, printer cartridges and programs. Boxes with business envelopes–stuffed with lanyards and paperwork–fill the big tables that crowd the room. Early arrivers pop in to register. It's a scene. Most of the horseplayers will be located in the main ballroom at Treasure Island, though there's also a smaller room called the Caribbean Room, where some players prefer to sit. Massive 10'x10' televisions screens line the walls of the ballroom–18 in total. There is a bar. The room's quiet now, but things will change tomorrow.

That night, after an underwhelming meal at Mario Battali's B&B Ristorante at the Venetian, the NTRA's Director of Media & Industry Relations Jim Mulvihill and I stop at a place in Treasure Island called Senor Frogs. It isn't classy. We get massive, beaker-shaped drinks made up of some odd concoction. It's a pink, towering inferno of sweetness. Things get weird when a member of a bachelorette party thinks we've been talking about her. She purposely bumps into our table and tries to knock our drinks over, then gives us the double bird. Her friends look at us sympathetically. We opt to call it a night, but not before deciding that I should participate in the Last Chance Tournament, which, if I were to make the top 10, would get me a spot in the NHC–the ultimate embed.

THURSDAY: First order of the day–hit Walgreens to buy Aleve. The need to kill pain will be a recurring theme over the next few days. Antidepressants would have been a good purchase, too. I go to the front desk with a question about my room. “So you're the best of the best?” the lady asks when she sees I'm in for the NHC. “No ma'am,” I say. “I'm just a journalist. But yeah, the rest of the players upstairs are.” She laughs. “Well, a lot of them seem to be saving their money for the horses,” she says. “I've had a few people who went through several credit cards to come up with the $36 resort fee.”

I register for the Last Chance Tournament and pay the entry fee of $500. The format is $2 mythical win/place bets on 13 races. Seven are mandatory, six are optional. It's the first time I've played in a tournament of any kind, but get off to a good start when I hit a Gennadi Dorochenko-trained horse at 15-1 in the third at Gulfstream. I get another winner at 3-1, and get a decent price on a longhshot that finishes second. From 295 entrants, I'm 25th early on. A series of tough beats follow. A 17-1 chance I've picked looks full of run at the top of the stretch in the sixth at Gulfstream, but can't find a seam and gets shuffled, finishing third. I sink down in the standings. Things aren't looking good. Then, in the last race of the day at Gulfstream, I narrow it down to two: the four at 9-1, and the five at 5-1. I go with the latter. But as they're stepping onto the turf, the four just looks too good not to take. I run to the window, cancel my bet with four horses to load, and switch to the four just as the gates spring. In upper stretch, it looks like the five will overhaul the four, but my pick battles back and takes a blanket finish by a head. Stanley Bavlish, who won the NHC, and with whom I've shared a table all day, gives me a fist bump. I'm still alive!

But I've managed my time poorly, and now have only two or three races to play, none of which I have strong opinions on. I play a 4-1 shot in Oaklawn's finale in the hopes that the $10 payday would get me into the top 10. He runs second. The dream is dead. I wind up 17th.

FRIDAY: It's the first day of the NHC. I get down to the ballroom about 8 a.m. local time, so 11 a.m. back on the East Coast. The place is already packed, and there's an infectious energy. Longtime NHC qualifiers greet each other and catch up on what's happened over the last year. It's fast and firm around the country, ideal conditions for the tournament. Having not made the NHC, I'm invited to attend the meeting to decide what races will make up Sunday's mandatory races. Tony Nevill, who runs the sports book at Treasure Island, leads a group that includes Mulvihill; Eric Wing–the director of communications at HorseTourneys.com and emcee of the proceedings during the NHC; and Tim Schramm from the Breeders' Cup.

We wind through the innards of Treasure Island. In a far-off boardroom, we sit around the table and the group begins to talk about attractive races. The clear goal is to give bettors a contentious race deep with prospects. Ideally, a race with six or seven live chances. Each person has gone through the cards at all the major tracks and made a list of potential events. One by one, they subtract races–“This trainer has two in the race and could scratch one, which would leave us with seven runners; let's pass on this one.” “We've taken a chance with a short-priced Brad Cox horse in another race; do we want to risk another one?” That kind of stuff. After a few minutes, it obvious that it isn't as easy as it would seem.

SATURDAY: Day 2 of the NHC. The main ballroom is beginning to smell like….horseplayers. There's still a great vibe, but already there's also a sense of resignation that much of the battle is still to be fought. With a first post of 11:30 a.m. ET at Gulfstream, and a last post of 8:30 p.m. ET at Fair Grounds–the last race players can bet of the day–it's a day-long rollercoaster of emotions that can be physically taxing. Despite some grumbling in the room about the $12-million GI Pegasus World Cup being chosen as a mandatory race, there is a swell of excitement as California Chrome (Lucky Pulpit) stalks the Gulfstream paddock with his neck bowed, with Arrogate (Unbridled's Song) looking like a steel-gray battleship.

On a personal note, I'm still thinking about the sushi dinner I had on Thursday at a place called Sen of Japan. Based on the recommendation of a friend who used to live in Vegas, we hop in a cab and travel off the strip a few miles, driving through Chinatown and its wide array of foot-massage parlors, and into the suburbs of Vegas. Sen of Japan is an unassuming place that sits in a strip mall, but looks are deceiving. It is run by chef Nakano Hiromi, former head the famous NOBU at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Las Vegas. Our friend asks the chefs to send out whatever they prefer. Four big plates of sashimi arrive. There is salmon with capers and bonito flakes, kampachi with serrano peppers, and halibut, all thinly sliced and delicious. Taking the prize for me, though, was the ocean trout, a deep-orange cut that is delicate and flavorful. Overall, and outstanding choice if you want to get off the strip, and at $200 for a table of four, not outrageously priced for the quality of sushi.

SUNDAY: One of the best things about the NHC is picking up on the storylines developing right around you. Sitting at the table next to me is a young fellow named Ryan Scharnowske, a resident of Westfield, Indiana. Tied for 39th after the first day, he was in 65th after the second round–just off the cutoff at 66–and got into the semi-final by the skin of his teeth. Early Sunday, Scharnowske was toiling in last place. But he soared back into contention when he selected the 50-1 first-timer Springdetti (Biondetti) in the seventh at Gulfstream, a $25,000 maiden claimer who skipped over the slop to a 2 1/4-length win. (Per tournament rules, Scharnowske's win was capped at 20-1.) He had another small score at Laurel, then ensured a Top 10 finish by nailing the 8-1 Beau Recall (Ire) (Sir Prancealot {Ire}) in the first at Santa Anita. The filly was the longest price on the board in a six-horse optional claimer on the turf. Watching Scharnowske celebrate with his friends and tablemates underscored what the NHC is all about: competition, drama, camaraderie, fun, yelling loudly. It also underscored something else–I'm gonna do my damndest to quality for next year's tournament. This is too much fun not to be part of every year.