Dad was a huge horseracing fan before he died. It would be more appropriate to say that he is a huge horseracing fan because I’m sure he’s still betting on the thousands of thoroughbreds that have gone to greener pastures. And I would dare bet he’s still winning.

One of the last race days that Dad and I went to was at the Finger Lakes Race Track in northwestern New York State. We not only bet against the odds, we bet against each other; who could win the most money during a day of racing. I’d like to make clear that Dad never took advantage of anybody – not even a dumb kid who thought he could out-handicap his old man.

Following our two-hour trip to the track that bright, sunny afternoon, I sprinted to the bar and ordered a beer to kick-off a day at the races. I lobbied, unsuccessfully, for Dad to have a beer as well. Never much of a drinker, he lit his pipe, tucked his racing form under his arm, and nonchalantly mentioned that the first race was only minutes away.

We purchased two box seats at the top of the grandstands and began pouring over our racing forms. I quickly drained my beer, caught-up with the crowd and the smell of horse shit. “I’ve got my winner,” I proudly exclaimed minutes later. Rising from my seat, I again filled my lungs with the distinct smells of the track. “I’m gonna grab my ticket. Are you ready?” I asked with the eagerness of a kid not yet learned in the school of life at the track.

Dad looked up, shook his head, took a puff on his pipe, and returned to studying his racing form.

Shrugging my shoulders, I pulled seven dollars from my pants pocket and swaggered to the betting window, placed my two dollar bet, and strutted to the beer stand for a five dollar beer.

We split the first two races; Dad won the first, me the second. When I won the second race, my confidence level soared and I knew in my gut that I was going to outwit my Dad. The horse was a long shot and paid $27.50 to win.

I had another beer, downing it with confidence.

Neither of us hit the third and I again won the fourth. The horse paid $11.40 to win. I was in the groove. I had another beer. “Pop, you wanna sip from a winner’s cup?” I asked stumbling over my chair, spilling half my drink.

Dad smiled wryly, shook his head, and walked quietly to the ticket window.

I don’t know if was due to stupid luck that I won those two races, or the consumption of adult alcoholic beverages that prohibited me from winning after that. But Dad won the fifth, sixth, seventh, and the eighth race; all of them. He was up nearly eight-hundred dollars.

“Do you want to play the last one?” he asked, scouring the field of horses.

I reached into empty pockets and suggested that it was a long ride home and that we should leave before the parking lot started to empty. Broke and embarrassed, I rode the long trip home munching on crow. I never again went toe-to-toe with Dad at the races. I did, however, come up with a dish I dedicated to him. It’s a good one to serve to all the winners in your life.

Roy’s Winner Circle Chicken

4 medium sized skinless chicken breasts

1 can condensed cream of chicken soup (10 3/4 oz)

1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup (10 3/4 oz)

1 can milk

Chicken seasoning

Parmesan cheese

Pour both cans of soup in a large saucepan and heat slowly. Fill one can with milk and add slowly while stirring. Once warmed through, it should turn gravy-like. Heat to almost boiling and remove from hot burner. Coat a cake pan, or casserole dish, with cooking spray and lay chicken breasts, meaty side up, and sprinkle with chicken seasoning and cheese. Next, pour the hot soup evenly over chicken. Sprinkle again with cheese. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for approximately 1 hour or until chicken is done (no longer pink).