McKeever fiddled with some virtual knobs, digested the output and, after a few minutes, logged into a livestream to tout his computer’s pick to the world. They displayed a colourful array of metrics and diagrams, rating each horse’s pace, genealogy, experience and probability of winning the race. He booted it up and the algorithms within flickered to life. McKeever took a seat and hurriedly pulled a laptop from his bag. We took an elevator and a long hallway to an empty luxury suite overlooking the track, an enormous oval of grass and dirt, with a shimmering pond in the centre. We wound past gamblers, in various states of anticipation, and the tellers who take their bets. Inside, McKeever and I frequently stopped to let sleek thoroughbreds, followed closely by the human entourage tending to them, pass. We arrived at Gulfstream Park, a sprawling compound in the shadow of downtown Miami, just in time for the first race. We’d got lost on our way to the racetrack, which was odd, given that the entrance is marked by a 110-foot-tall statue of Pegasus fighting a dragon. Scotty “Pick Six” McKeever and I drove at illegal speed along a wide Florida highway in his black pick-up truck, talking about horses.
0 kommentar(er)
