Right Horse...Wrong Race
What if the mistake isn't a mistake at all?
It was getting close to Derby time, and we were electrified with excited anticipation. I couldn’t stay in my own skin.
“Ten across the board on number 8 in race 12 please,” I said placing a wager on my favorite Derby horse. He came to Louisville with a Cinderella story, and I wanted him to win.
The woman behind the wagering window rapidly clicked keys recording my wager, never glancing up at me until it was all clicked and done. “Good luck,” she said with a charming smile. All down the line a dozen or more attendants engaged in the same activity; an endless chorus of clicking keys signaling the movement of money...and lots of it.
Millions of greenbacks exchanging hands click after click after repetitive click. By the end of the day, more than $349 million dollars would be wagered at Churchill Downs. Standing there, lulled into the drone of the endless clicks, I couldn’t help but wonder how much of those millions I would take home...or whether I’d be leaving my “clicks” behind.
In the adjacent line, Teresa placed her own Derby wager. It was a tough choice for her. Every time she decided the horse she liked, it was scratched. She started over a total of 5 times between the fillies running in the Oaks, and the stallions in the Derby. She didn’t even want to speak her choice aloud for fear of the dreaded scratch.
Having placed our bets, we did as we always do, we walk away from the wagering window, hold our tickets together, and take a picture. A sort of recording of history, which is far more meaningful and impressive if you win.
As I was prepared my phone for the historic photo, she noticed. A catch in her throat made it clear, a mistake had been made. The attendant placed her bet for the wrong race. The ticket in her hand was incorrect, not for the Derby, but for the race preparing to load into the gate as we stood there. Her heart dropped and she held her breath. She counted it immediately as a loss.
“It’s too late to take it back now. Not only have we walked away, but the window is probably closed on this race.”
It was that awful moment of anguish every one of us knows. That split second you realize you’ve made a horrible mistake, but it’s too late to do anything to fix it. This mistake couldn’t be undone.
There was no use crying over spilled milk. Teresa surrendered to inevitable loss and chalked it all up to the fun of being at the races. Plain and simple, it’s unpredictable...no matter how hard you try to accurately determine who will win.
Life made the choice. It was now up to the Universe to decide how it would go. Standing frozen in the walkway, bettors buzzing past us, rushing to the rail. We passively listened to the announcer call the race. After all, Teresa did have a stake in it. But surely it was for not.
Then came a quiet surprise and dumbfounded disbelief. A smile, a chuckle, as if she had known in advance. The right horse on the wrong race WON! Teresa held in her hand a mistake, which in the blink of an eye was turned into gold.
I couldn’t help but wonder how often in life we decide too quickly that we’ve ruined something with a simple human error.
We make assumptions before the race is run mistaking uncertainty for failure. Accepting what we believe to be the inevitable fate, we count the cost before the horses are in the starting gate. We give in, and begin to move on emotionally to get past the pain of error. But the Universe had already worked all that into the plan.
Sometimes the Universe winks at you, and the right horse wins anyway.