Ii remember during Racing Festival of the South about ten years ago, a very nice little old lady -- in her 80's at least and fortifying herself with a walker on a very crowded apron in front of the owner's and trainer's benches. Her hair was in disarray in the wind, her tatterned and worn tennis balls on the walker legs almost falling off, but the Margarita in the plastic cup never tipped.
About 1/2 way through a full mile race she bumps the walker up to the edge of the wall...bumping "darned kids" (20 somethings) out of the way and she began to scream..."USE DA WHIP!!! Beat that pig --WHOOP him!! BEAT THAT PIG"
At the last 1/8th pole she had the walker off the ground and was smacking it against the brick wall...."USE DA WHIP!! BEAT THAT PIG!!!". Her horse slid from 4th to 1st in the last furlongs.
Race over. Handfulls of torn paper Amtote tickets went into the air, and just as many went into pockets for redemption. She's licking her chops and kissing her bet ticket. "How much you win?" I asked.
"Twenty-two (expletive) dollars." she replied with a huge gap-tooth grin. I had no reply. She dinged my shin with her walker and said "out the way...I got a ticket to cash!"
Ah. The track.