Going Coburn

Holy Mother of God!

Is it too hard for us all to simply get along?

The weekend is behind us.  Let’s not live in the past for Pete’s sake.  I would love to move forward.


I pride and consider myself an emotionally contained and gentle man.  I don’t like drama or reactive emotions in my day.  I hate confrontation.  My soul is filled with solitude much akin to the nature of Steve Coburn’s wife of many years, Caroline.  She’s a sweetheart.

The angry outburst spewing from Steve Coburn’s mouth, which the entire world witnessed, after California Chrome suffered his unimaginable loss at the Belmont.  Her actions made me recognize the similarities of my own traits and how closely they resemble Caroline’s remarkable composure.  She defines everything modest and calm.

Standing on the stage of the Belmont and listening from behind to her beloved husband who was about to step off the cliff of instability as the rocky and jagged outline of the dangerous edge became blurry.  Moments the sheerness was about to collapse under him and tumble him into the abyss of foolishness.  She acted as a savior.  She’s a saint.

A gentle poke of a reminder square in the back of his lucky suit.  He felt it.  I too have nudged a few loved ones, only to remind them of their manners or to stop an unnecessary word of distrust or meaningless anger.  That’s just who I am.  I’m a Caroline.

Even after his swatting reaction of her loving reminder, she stepped back in patience.  He continued and began to elevate his point.  His eyes focused on the camera, speaking directly to me through the lens.  I was fixated.  I remember the worst ass chewing I ever received by a man named Heck Heckathorne.  When Steve looked over his glasses at me through the television, every LED in the screen sparked with fear.  I knew that look.  It was Heck.

Caroline, the princess she is, slowly stepped down to whisper subtle composure behind him so the microphone would not hear her protective words.  Again, an irate reaction and this time with words of warnings.  This time there was directness in his actions.  He turned on her.  “I don’t care!” he shouted looking over his glasses not at the camera now but at her directly.

She retreated calmly with understanding that by doing so she had actually handed him the end of the rope that was already wrapped around his leg and was fastened securely to the crab pot.  She was right, that damn crab pot was heavier than her husband and overboard he went.  There wasn’t even a sliced cod as bait in the trap.  He just took it and went in for a dip into the Sea of Apology.

I solemnly lowered my head as I thought to myself, “Steve was right but if he would learn from others like me and Caroline, maybe things might change.  Maybe calmness would prevail and rules about racing might change.”  I looked over at the Mayor who too was shaking his head.

I offered my point, “It’s about airplanes and shipping horses now.  It’s about being able to bring in new blood to the race.”

The race was over and my new hero, Steve Coburn had finished telling it like it was.

I had taken my camera and turned on the record button earlier to video The Mayor’s race reactions as a prank.

Within minutes The Mayor asked, “Is that camera on?”

I answered with a, “No,” while rolling my eyes.  ‘Ha, Ha, the jokes on him’, I thought but foolishly the camera was not on his position on the couch but on mine.

Steve’s message had been sent and The Mayor looked up at me in disgust, “I’m embarrassed.”

“I understand.”  My heart went out for The Mayor.  My best friend is hurting so much by the loss.  I will be his teacher today and mentor him into gratefulness.

He knew my gentleness as a counselor .  He knew how calm of a man I could be at the horse races.  He also knew how badly I wanted to see another Triple Crown but he also knew of my tolerance of attitude.

The race was over, The Mayor slowly set down his empty bottle as he looked up at me.

“Are you in A-Fib?”

I looked down at my chest and paused to feel the beat, “Nope.”

“You should be because you’re going,” he stopped in mid-breath.

“What am I going?” I motherly interrupted as I pushed another beer can aside with the softness of a pillow.

“Going Coburn.”

PS, Steve, we’ve all have been in that place one time or another.  Might not be as big as the stage as yours.  All joking aside, good luck and best wishes for you and especially Caroline.  Teach Martin how to have fun.  That will be your significance. . .

The End

“The best part of life starts at the top of the stretch.”
The WiseGuy

Click here to read more stories of The WiseGuy

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