"Wright On"

ENJOY EXCERPTS FROM "THE EPIPHANY" FROM THE ENIGMATIC FREELANCE WRITER CHIP N. WRIGHT

AS REQUESTED BY OUR VISITORS.... ADDITIONAL CONTENT FROM "THE EPIPHANY" HAS BEEN ADDED BELOW!

The Epiphany

The wooden structure reeked of animal urine and other foul odors. John knew the piles of hay stacked neatly against the seasoned pine would make a hearty fire. His mangled leg made it impossible to run. His only defense was his Colt side arm. He knew he couldn’t possibly hold off twenty angry men so blood thirsty they would rather string a rope around his neck, than hull him back to town. His injured leg would make the trip completely insufferable. “Probably make me walk anyway.” He thought to himself.

“Come on out John, we just wanta talk to ya.” The Colonel yelled cupping is hands together to carry the 40 yards to the old structure. “You hear me! Come on out!”

“What’s going on, I didn’t do anything.” John asked while crawling away form the barn door.

“Your not going to do much with that twisted leg. Got to hurt.”

“Don’t touch me. You caused this.” John said while pulling his leg back with his hand.

“Come on out, You’ll get a fair trial. You don’t wanta die in there.” Yelled the Colonel once more.

“Why me? I just want to go back to Virginia. Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not me you have to convince, John. Those men out there have the problem.”

“Come on John or we’ll burn the barn. Who the hell is he talking to?” Said the Colonel while looking in the direction of the barn. “Sergeant sneak around there and see if you can get a better view inside.”

“Shut up. I didn’t do it.” John screamed at the door.

“Looks like a pretty old barn. Won't take long to burn.”

“Why?”

“Cause it’s old and made of wood. A lot older than you.”

“No, why me?”

“Opportunity John. You were just the right person for the job.”

“Why?”

“You couldn’t begin to understand why.”

“I don’t want to die like this.”

“You have another option.”

“That’s no option. Just another way of dying.” He said while he clutched his six shooter, pulling it closer to his chest.

“We’re wasting daylight. Lighter up boys.” The Colonel knew he had several hours of daylight left, but the long journey home and the beautiful mistress waiting halfway made him anxious to get on with the task.

“Colonel says lighter up!”

“Goodbye John.”

“Honey, Eric wake up. Your dreaming again. It’s okay wake up.”

Eric pulled from her grasp as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead. He arched his lean torso up and jumped out bed. Not wanting to talk about another dream, he draped the comforter around his body and stumbled into the living room. “Shit!” He said, while grabbing his foot that just made contact with the half-opened door.

“You okay?” Said his wife, from the bed he had departed. “Come back to bed, honey.”

“No, I can’t sleep. Don’t want to keep you up too.” Lack of sleep wasn’t what he feared for his wife. He tossed and turned for several minutes until he heard her drift back to unconsciousness. It took several more minutes until he fell asleep.

In the morning Eric was careful not to wake Lucy. He wanted her rested for the long campaign. The week long road trips were exhausting and he could tell by the thinning of her waist she was not taking care of herself. Being an aide for one of America’s top politician was not an easy endeavor. Long nights and frequent fast food stops was hard on a body. Especially a body that had played collegiate volleyball and was used to running marathons. But this was Lucy, always up to new challenges and always trying to out do everyone else. Eric, didn’t mine his wife taking long trips with a good looking middle aged Senator. He was very proud of her accomplishments and her being selected by a frontrunner to head a major political campaign. Though excited for her, he was also a little envious. His life as a small County Prosecutor in the Midwest was anything but glamorous. His biggest case after leaving Harvard was a conviction of a drunk driver who ran over a mother and her three children at a shopping mall. No matter how small the case, it sealed his faith as a Prosecutor for the next three elections.

“Did you get any sleep?” Eric asked as he poured her coffee into the oversized mug.

“Yeah, are you okay?” She said, sipping the caffeine.

“Sure. What time is your flight?

“I got about three and half hours to get ready. You want to drive me to the airport?”

Eric knew the International Airport was a two hour drive from their home in the small Ohio community. This would give them a few extra minutes together and time to make plans for next weekend. This would also give Lucy time to prepare her boss’ agenda. The two of them had an unspoken agreement not to talk about departure until the last possible minute. When Lucy arrives home on Friday night, politics and all other shop talk cease until Monday morning.

“Yeah, I don’t have anything pressing today.”

Eric Johnson grew up on a small farm in northern Indiana. His mother taught high school English and his father worked as a supervisor at a steel mill during the day and farmed 1200 acres of wheat and corn at night. Eric’s older brother, William Junior took to farming like a fish to water. He loved to farm and after high school, with the help of his father, purchased most of the land adjacent to their home. Three years older than Eric, Bill was 6 foot 4 and weighed 215 pounds. The Northern Express Tribune called Bill Johnson, “Cedarville’s Finest Athletic.” Eric had a difficult time living up to his older brother’s reputation. Eric played sports and was a fine athlete in his own way, but never excelled the way Junior did. He learned first hand how hard it was not to disappoint people when he hit the gridiron. His father, being a former college football star, didn’t help Eric’s self-esteem either. So he had to find his own way. He concentrated on his studies and learned everything there was to know about English, math, and history. He loved American history and he studied it as much as he could. His aptitude enabled him to take college courses his sophomore year and also solidified his pet name of Brainiac. The wide frame glasses he wore didn’t help curtail some of the verbal abuse either. He joined the debate team and took his school to Nationals. He continued playing football until the 11th grade, not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want to disappoint his family.

In Eric’s Junior year while playing a Homecoming game he started as a wide receiver. The quarterback, who was being pressed fired a missile in Eric’s direction. Eric caught the ball and ran toward the uprights. Three yards from the goal, a defender slammed in to his lower half and crushed his right leg. He never played football again. To this day, when there is a chill in the air, his leg reminds him of that October day. After high school he was given an academic scholarship to Indiana University where he majored in history. He often saw himself returning home and teaching high school. He never imagined falling in love and getting married. When he met Lucy, he knew she was something special. An all American athlete and National Honor Student. Lucy wasn’t just the pretties girl Eric ever dated, but the smartest one too. She graduated top of her Political Science class and was accepted to Harvard Law School. She followed in her father’s steps and his father’s before him. Eric had no choice but to follow her as well. So he gave up on his dreams of returning home and teaching history and enrolled at Harvard. He completed his law degree in two years, just six month after Lucy completed hers. The two of them soon settled in western Ohio where John started practicing law for William, Thompson and Ross. Lucy also had intentions of joining the firm. However as usual, she struck gold and was opted a better opportunity. Jack Anderson, an Ohio State Senator was courting a replacement for an aide who had suddenly retired. He considered several people form various places throughout the country, but wanted a new face that would inspire a younger crowd. He wanted someone fresh from law school, someone intelligent and up to date with the generation X, someone he could mentor and groom in his own way. He contacted his old friend James Richards from Harvard. Richards was now the head of the law program. Professor Richards told Senator Anderson about a young graduate that made a name for herself in the Harvard Law Review. Anderson called Lucy in for an interview. After an hour lunch she was offered the job and went to work the following week. Three years later she found herself the top aide and campaign manager for a candidate running for America’s top office.

MORE OF "THE EPIPHANY".....

Lucy often invited Eric to campaign with her, but he had no interest in politics. So he stayed home, read books and took long walks to pass the time while she was away. In fact, unbeknownst to his wife, he would have never ran for Prosecutor had it not been for her insistence. With the help of Senator Anderson’s contacts, Jack was a shoe in. His first conviction of a unemployed drunk driver that killed three children and their mother at a shopping mall insured his re-election and a six figure income.

“Hello, hi babe. How’s things going?” Eric asked while holding the cell phone in one hand and the leather steering wheel of his Lexus in the other. “Yea, just on my way home. Took a half day off and went golfing with Don. Kicked his ass, so he bought lunch. I know, I‘ll just find another sucker to play with, if he does that. No I think he‘s going out. He already had a couple. No, I kind of have a headache. Only had one. Okay, I know, maybe two. Yea, I got to try to get some rest. Love you, bye.”

Eric was unaware he knocked over the bottle of beer he just opened. The long week at work, and the hot sun on the golf course exhausted him. He missed his beloved Lucy and was uncomfortable sleeping in their bed alone. So, he sprawled out on the leather sofa and soon found himself in and out of consciousness. With the television still on, he soon surrendered to the weight of his heavy eyelids and the alcohol flowing through his blood stream.

“So what’s it gonna be John! You gonna come out on your own or do we burn you out!” John searched his mind to try to make sense of what had happened over the last couple of days. How could a man so talented and popular become involved in murder? How was it possible he was involved in the slaying of a man he knew little about? The killing of a person quickly becoming one of America’s most beloved leaders. John never met his victim. He doesn’t remember having a dislike for President Lincoln. Especially such a strong loathe which would motivate homicide. He considered himself a tender man, a man devoted to his mother. Someone building a reputation on his acting ability. Not a murderer or assassin.

“Wait! Give me a minute.” He screamed in the direction of the door. For a moment he placed his revolver to the side of his head. He cringed at the thought of his mother living the rest of her life knowing her son had ended his, in such a cowardly way. But to him there was little difference. He knew either way, he was a dead man. The union troops had no intention of letting him walk out alive. They wanted blood. Not so much for Lincoln, but for the lost of their union brethren, the lost of time spent fighting a war they cared little about, and the lost of their innocence.

“Well John, what’s it going to be? You and I both know, there’s no chance you’ll make it out alive. That’s not the cowardly way. Go ahead , get it over with.”

John’s leg began to hurt more as the adrenaline was subsiding in his body. He felt himself becoming weak, not wanting to fight, yet not wanting to give up. “Get out, leave me alone. I’ve done as you wanted.” He cried out at the man in the barn. “Can’t you see. It’s over. Let me die alone.”

“Sorry, John I have to stay. Certain things must take place before my departure.”

“Certain things?” John asked.

“Really they don’t even involve you anymore. You’ve done your job exceptionally well, and you’ll be known for….”

“I’ll be known as a killer of a President. I’ll be a hated man eternally.” John interrupted.

“Yes, perhaps by some. But, others will build statues and museums for you. There will be people that talk about you for centuries, and your name will be tantamount with your victim’s name. Scholars will write books and papers of how you pulled off the greatest assassination in history. And John, others will study you as well. This is not the last time this has to occur. No, there are many others that will follow. That must follow.”

“Get out! You’ve done enough.”

“Remember when we first met, John. You were a struggling actor with little direction of where you were headed. Now you are famous.”

“Infamous.” John muttered.

“It doesn’t matter. When the name John Wilkes Booth is spoken, people will know everything about you.”

“Not everything. They won’t know how I was manipulated into treason by a person so evil that the devil himself would find it hard to be in the same room with.”

“John, I’m not the devil. I’m not even the evil person you think I am. I’m just doing what I’ve been told to do. Like you.”

“Nothing like me. You’re nothing like me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“There was always a choice. Just like the revolver in your hand provides you with a choice.”

“John are you gonna come out!” Yelled the Colonel from the wood line.

Eric slammed his feet to the floor before he opened his eyes. “Dammit. What’s going on?” He mumbled out loud. Flipping through the channels of the television was little comfort. He couldn’t get the details of the dream out of his mine. He knew it was a dream, but felt it was something more. What did it mean? It was like someone or something was telling him something. He couldn’t make light of it. He knew one thing for sure. This was a dream unlike any he had ever experienced before.

2 Fat Guys With Something To Prove

In a venture called Two Fat Guys With Something To Prove, Kevin Lechner and Steve Geiselman are doing something about the effect that time and genetics have had on them – both are overweight and diabetic.

These two, along with yours truly, twofatguyswithnothingtodo.com are joining forces to bring some positive change into the lives of themselves and others like them. By making a competition out of a fitness/nutrition/healthy lifestyle program, Lechner and Geiselman are hoping to raise money for the American Diabetes Association.
twofatguyswithnothingtodo.com have pledged $2 to the ADA for each pound the two shed during the duration of the contest. All involved are hoping you will join the team.

You can follow the progress weekly in the Kokomo Perspective, and look for updates here, as well. In the meantime, if you wish to become involved by pledging a donation, call Steve Geiselman at the Perspective at 452-0055, or contact him by email at sports@kokomoperspective.com.

Run For The Roses

MORE PERSPECTIVE FROM VETERAN SPORTS HANDICAPPER, BARRY DeMANN. THIS TIME CONCERNING "THE RUN FOR THE ROSES". EDITOR'S NOTE(WHO RAN IN THE '96 DERBY, BY THE WAY): BARRY DeMANN'S VIEWS AND COMMENTARIES DO NOT NECESSARILY REFLECT THE VIEWS OF OPINIONS OF THE TFG'S. ALL CONTENT IS TO BE VIEWED AS "NEWS MATTER ONLY" AND DOES NOT ENCOURAGE OR ENDORSE SPORTS SPECULATION ON ANY LEVEL!

ROSES AND THORNS
(THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF WAGERING ON THE KENTUCKY DERBY)
BY BARRY DeMANN

I GUESS, I'VE LOVED "THE DERBY", EVER SINCE I WAS A KID.  THE NAME LUCKY DEBONAIR STUCK IN MY MIND AT AN EARLY AGE.
I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE CALLED THAT BY FRIENDS, BUT HAD TO SETTLE FOR "JACKASS", INSTEAD.

FOR ME, THOUGH, IT WAS NEVER A TRIP TO CHURCHILL DOWNS TO FIGHT THROUGH THE INFIELD OR, TO CATCH A GLANCE OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS. THREE IN A ROOM IS A CROWD, TO ME. I SEE, BUT I DON'T WISH TO BE SEEN. THEREFORE, BARRY DeMANN WILL NEVER ENJOY A MINT JULEP AT THE "TWIN SPIRES" ON DERBY DAY. MY SANCTUARY WAS, AND IS, A SMALL DARKENED ROOM WITH A TELEVISION, A DAILY RACING FORM, AND A 12 PIECE BOX OF FRIED CHICKEN...FOR THE BIG ONE.

I WANTED TO SHARE SOME BRIEF MEMORIES OF "THE GREATEST TWO MINUTES IN SPORTS". NOT JUST WHO FILLED THE WIN, PLACE AND SHOW SLOTS, BUT SOME OF THE JOY AND AGONY THAT CAME WITH THE ALL IMPORTANT DERBY WAGER. I'VE LIVED MANY UPS AND DOWNS, BUT HERE ARE SOME OF THE MOST MEMORABLE.

1979 DERBY - AS A TEENAGER, I GATHERED UP THE NERVE TO VISIT THE LOCAL "BOOK". "BIG HAL" CALLED THE SHOTS, THERE. HE WAS AT FIRST RELUCTANT TO DO BUSINESS WITH THE UNKNOWN KID, BUT EVENTUALLY TOOK MY $50 WAGER ON A HORSE CALLED SHAMGO. SHAMGO WAS THE SON OF SHAM, THE SAME SHAM WHO HAD GAMELY BATTLED SECRETARIAT IN THE TRIPLE CROWN SERIES OF 1973, BUT HAD COME UP SHORT EACH TIME. MY SOURCES HAD TOLD ME THAT SHAM'S REVENGE WAS IN ORDER. SHAMGO TOYED WITH MY NAIVE NATURE BY CHARGING TO AN EARLY LEAD AND HOLDING IT FOR MUCH OF THE RACE. THAT'S WHEN SPECTACULAR BID QUIT FOOLING AROUND. "THE BID" BLEW PAST THE FIELD AND SENT SHAMGO TO THE BACK OF THE PACK. A CHUCKLING, BIG HAL, SENT ME TO THE EXIT.

I SPENT THE EVENING DETERMINING WHICH OF MY EIGHT TRACK TAPES WOULD HAVE TO BE SOLD TO RECOUP, MY LOSSES. THE DERBY DIDN'T SEEM SO GLAMOUROUS WHEN I HAD TO PART WITH FIREFALL'S ELAN, STEVE MILLER'S GREATEST HITS, AND ZEPPELIN'S PHYSICAL GRAFFITI.

YEAH, BARRY DeMANN WAS DOWN....BUT NOT OUT.

1985 DERBY -  BIG HAL HAD BEEN PUT OUT TO PASTURE. A CHARACTER SIMPLY KNOWN AS "FALSTAFF" HAD TAKEN OVER THE OPERATION. I COULD NEVER GET AN ANSWER AS TO WHETHER HE WAS NAMED FOR THE BEER OR THE HORSE, BUT I LIKED FALSTAFF...HE HAD A HEART. BUT, HE DIDN'T MIND TAKING YOUR MONEY. HE SCOFFED AS I LAID DOWN MY 50 AND 50 WAGER ON SPEND A BUCK, A HORSE I HAD SELECTED, NOT FOR HIS PEDIGREE, BUT BECAUSE HE SHARED THE NAME OF "BUCK" WITH MY BELOVED FATHER. FALSTAFF CAUTIONED ME THAT CHIEF'S CROWN WAS THE BEST HORSE TO ENTER THIS RACE SINCE SEATTLE SLEW...BUT I BARELY HEARD HIM. YES, THIS WAS GOING TO BE SPEND A BUCK'S DAY.

AND IT WAS.

SPEND A BUCK WIRED THE FIELD IN DOMINANT FASHION. MY $100 WAGER HAD TURNED INTO OVER $700. AS FALSTAFF COUNTED OUT MY WINNINGS, I FELT LIKE I HAD WON ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD....SPEND A BUCK HAD DONE IT, BUT EVENTUALLY, THE "BUCK" NAME WOULD TIME AND TIME AGAIN, SPOIL MY DAYS AT THE TRACK. WAGERS ON ANY OTHER HORSE WITH "BUCK" IN THE NAME ALWAYS LED TO HEARTACHE AND SORROW....MUCH AS I HAD PROBABLY DONE TO THE REAL "BUCK"...THROUGH THE YEARS.

1987 DERBY -  DEMON'S BEGONE WAS THIS YEAR'S CAN'T MISS HORSE. AS FALSTAFF POINTED OUT..."PAT DAY'S BEEN GEARING UP FOR THIS ONE, BETTER GET YOUR MONEY ON HIM". I PREFERRED ALYSHEBA, THE SON OF THE GREAT ALYDAR ON THIS DAY. ALYSHEBA DIDN'T DISAPPOINT. AFTER STUMBLING AT THE TURN, ALYSHEBA, HAD THE HEART TO RUN DOWN A GAME BET TWICE TO GET THE MONEY. MY WAGERS, EVER GRADUATING, HAD RISEN TO $100 ACROSS THE BOARD. THE $300 BET TURNED INTO $1600.

BUT IT DIDN'T MATTER. AFTER THE CELEBRATION AND A SPUR OF THE MOMENT FLIGHT TO THE BAHAMAS...THE MONEY WAS GONE AND THEN SOME. SURE I ENDED UP WITH ONE OF THE BIGGEST CONCH SHELLS IN NORTH AMERICA, AND AN UNBELIEVABLE BOUT OF DIARRHEA, BUT LITTLE ELSE.

1991 DERBY - THIS YEAR'S DERBY FOUND ME IN VEGAS. A BUSINESS DESTINATION 300 MILES AWAY PROVIDED ENOUGH RATIONALIZATION TO DETOUR TO "SIN CITY" FOR A 72 HOUR MARATHON. MY FOCUS WAS ON OTHER MATTERS LIKE WHAT A "LIVE DOG", INDIANS PITCHER GREG SWINDELL WAS, OR WHAT KIND OF IDIOT BETS ON THE USFL'S ORLANDO THUNDER WHEN QUARTERBACK KERWIN BELL, SUCKED SO BADLY. DERBY DAY WAS A RELIEF. I WAS ABLE TO QUIT WORRYING THAT I HADN'T SLEPT FOR TWO DAYS AND GET FOCUSED. HANSEL AND BEST PAL DREW THE ATTENTION, BUT NICK ZITO'S STRIKE THE GOLD
CAUGHT MINE. A BRILLIANT RIDE BY THE LATE CHRIS ANTLEY, BROUGHT STRIKE THE GOLD FROM THE BACK OF THE PACK TO THE LEAD IN DEEP STRETCH.  MY BELLOWING OF, "COME ON, STRIKE THE GOLD!!!" SEEMED TO SHAKE THE BARBARY COAST SPORTS BOOK. ALMOST AS MUCH AS WHEN I DASHED TO THE WINDOW TO COLLECT MY $2400, WITH THE WIN.

 IT MATTERED LITTLE. A MERE TWO WEEKS LATER, STRIKE THE GOLD STUNK UP THE TRACK IN THE PREAKNESS. HANSEL SEEMED TO BE LAUGHING AT ME AS HE HIT THE WIRE...LEAVING ME WITH ONLY MY $800 DOLLARS WORTH OF TICKETS WADDED UP IN MY HAND, AND FEELING LIKE IT HAD BEEN TEN YEARS SINCE I HAD "STRUCK GOLD" IN VEGAS.

1996 DERBY - UNBRIDLED SONG WAS THE HORSE TO BEAT, BUT MY SELECTION WAS BOB BAFFERT'S CAVONNIER. MY CONFIDENCE WAS HIGH ENOUGH THAT I WOULD MAKE THE BIGGEST HORSE WAGER OF MY LIFE....PUTTING $1000 BUCKS ON CAVONNIER'S NOSE. MY ADRENALINE WAS PUMPING WHEN MIKE SMITH BLEW THE WAD OF UNBRIDLED SONG TOO EARLY. AS CAVONNIER PASSED HIM IN THE STRETCH,  I WAS EUPHORIC! JUST LIKE RIDER CRAIG MCCARRON, THOUGH,  I DIDN'T SEE JERRY BAILEY AND GRINDSTONE COMING. EVERYTHING WAS A BLUR AS BOTH HORSES HIT THE WIRE. A PHOTO REVIEW SEEMED LIKE IT LASTED FOR AN HOUR, BUT I DIDN'T NEED TO SEE THE PICTURE. CAVONNIER HAD BEEN CLIPPED, AND I KNEW IT.

THE RACE TOOK EVERYTHING OUT OF ME. FALSTAFF TRIED TO OFFER CONSOLATION...BUT ALL I ASKED FOR WAS PERMISSION TO GO TO SLEEP, RIGHT THERE IN THE CHAIR OF HIS BACK ROOM DIVE. I'D BEEN BEATEN DOWN LIKE ON OLD RUG ON A CLOTHES LINE.

THAT '96 RACE CHANGED A LOT FOR ME.

NOW A FAMILY MAN, THE DAYS OF THE BIG DERBY BET SEEMED FOOLISH. HOWEVER, I CONTINUE TO BE ENJOY THE RACE EVERY YEAR WITH A SIMPLE $5 EXACTA BOX PLAY. (2003'S FUNNY CIDE/EMPIRE MAKER GOT ME BACK ALMOST $250).

I STILL LOVE THE RACE. BUT, I REALIZE IT'S NOT THE MONEY, IT'S THE THRILL OF THE ACTION.

I'VE WON AND LOST AT EVERY TYPE OF SPORTS ACTION. SUPER BOWLS, BOXING MATCHES, THE NBA FINALS...THEY ALL FALL SHORT OF HORSE RACING FOR EXCITEMENT. WHETHER IT'S WATCHING YOUR HORSE SPLIT THE FIELD, IN THE STRETCH TO GET THE WIN..... OR BEGGING FOR THE WIRE AS YOUR HORSE IS LEADING, BUT RUNNING OUT OF GAS.....THE ONE TO TWO MINUTES OF ACTION IN A RACE CAN'T BE BEAT.

FEEL THE RUSH IN SATURDAY'S 135TH RUNNING OF "THE RUN FOR THE ROSES".

SATURDAY'S ABSOLUTELY FREE SELECTION: $2 BOXED EXACTA ON ADVICE AND FRIESAN FIRE SHOULD SET YOU FREE.

BARRY DeMANN