FWP: The enormously long trumpet thing edition

Fearless Weekend Predictions is a weekly column running on Friday afternoons where our resident soothsayer (or whoever we can get) locks down what will transpire in the coming 72 hours. It’s better to get these out before the 7-year is open.  The crystal ball gets cloudy.

That special time of the year is finally upon us.  It is opening day at Keeneland.  A week ago I promised you an in-depth preview from resident horse racing/tailgating guru Smoothron.  Of course, he’s already at the track this morning, and when I followed up via text message I received this in return: “It got deleted somehow.  I don’t have the heart/sobriety to start over.”

It was 10:32am.

Last call for bets!

For the rest of us trapped in offices and cubes today, we’ll be venturing out tomorrow, dressed to the nines, to experience the short dresses, magnificent beasts, overpriced Bud Light, warm cups of Burgoo, betting lines with TSH and Santa, and “Meet Me At The Clock.”

By the way, what is that really long trumpet thingy called anyway?

On to the predictions!

Keeneland will see its first TGC-Break-Even day since 2006.  For those of you unfamiliar, that means winning enough on the ponies to cover beer, burgoo, and lost wager costs.  It is a seldom accomplished feat, but not unprecedented.  I’m feeling good about it this year!

John Calipari will referee an intrasquad game. As many of you know, Kentucky hired Coach Cal away from Memphis this week, and as his first order of post-double-press conference action, he–of course–held practice.  According to sources inside my local thirst quenching establishment, he’s committed to having spots for any senior that wishes to return.  No, that does not include you Josh Harrellson.

Sorry Eday, Kotsay ('s wife) is in Boston.

The Tigers, Mets, A’s, Cubs, and Reds will all win their Opening Day games.  Yes! You are God Damn Right.  Baseball season is here!  We made it!  The long boring month of February between Football and Baseball is over.  March Madness is wrapping up.  Clear out a spot for me on the patio!  It’s baseball time! 

Smooth will ask me if I put up a picture of a hot chick.  Yes.

Nate Robertson will run out of tissues.  The same Nate Robertson who tallied a 6.35 ERA (highest in the bigs for starters pitching over 162 innings) last year.  The same who gave up 5 runs in 3 innings last week.  The same who is making a guaranteed $17 million.  The same who lost his job as a starter (finally!) and is now crying that he needs to go somewhere else to be appreciated (I’m thinking Toledo).  Grow a sack Nate.  Or learn how to pitch.  Either way, STFU.

Well, it’s almost noon here on the East Coast.  The sun is starting to peek through the clouds.  The first post call (with the trumpet thing) is due in about an hour.  And I’m sure somewhere Smoothron is shuffling little squares of white paper in between brews and hourly shots of moonshine.

I’ll see you there tomorrow morning at 9am.

I can’t wait.