Fighting the Demons...While Handicapping Quarter Horses

The fears were building, the demons gathering momentum…

I remembered the auditorium scene in "Carrie." Seconds before her demonic tirade she imagines everybody in the audience laughing hysterically at her.

Sooner or later some savvy pharmaceutical company will invent a magic pill called "Couragia," whose label would read, "Take one tablet three days before a public speaking engagement in order to relieve your fear of making a blathering fool of yourself in front of thousands of snickering viewers."

The fear of public speaking—a form of performance anxiety, I suppose—can turn any Cool Hand Luke into a nervous wreck. Even Barbara Streisand quivers backstage.

Who among us can step boldly onto a stage without any doubts or butterflies?

Showtime was approaching…and I had to fight yet another round against a stubborn opponent trying to steal my self-confidence.

"They´ll all be laughing at you," I thought. "You´ll mangle the English language and choke under the pressure."

The drama began when I was suddenly invited to be the featured guest on "Handicapper´s Corner," a televised Quarter Horse racing show originating from Los Alamitos Race Course in Cypress, California—my home track.

I was only supposed to share the limelight for about fifteen minutes ("Great," I thought. "It´ll be over quickly"). Topics included my handicapping theories and book on Quarter Horse racing. Also we´d analyze the first four or five races from Los Al; I´d have to give the viewing audience my picks in those races.

For several days I obsessed over the upcoming show. It´s a rare day you´re offered a little TV gig, and you don´t want to butcher the opportunity.

I wondered how I´d do—whether I could handle the pressure of live television in front of a real audience. The show had no script, and I didn´t know what questions the host would ask me. Would I come off as a blathering idiot?

"Who do you like in this race, Steve?"

"Uh…um…I´m not too sure…maybe the #4 horse, a classy colt…er… filly…that…uh…hasn´t raced in two months…I mean two years…blabbeddy blab."

During the run-up to the show the old demons held a pep rally in my subconscious. They cheered my insecurities and fears about public speaking. I sprinkled them with pessimism and they spread like cancer, diminishing my self-confidence.

Not that I´m a J. Alfred Prufrock who dares to eat a peach.

Quite the contrary. An extroverted Sagittarian, I usually love the spotlight. But when it comes to improvisational public speaking—in front of strangers, no less—all bets are off.

I needed to be prepared, so I studied the racing program with a vengeance. I circled my selections and made notes about what I would say about each horse. I visualized myself succeeding, speaking clearly and succinctly. Using exactly the right words.

The night of the show, I got to the track early to familiarize myself with the physical setting and ambiance. I needed to feel comfortable in the space. After testing the chair I´d be sitting in, I walked casually around the area.

I introduced myself to the host of the show, Chris Wade. We chatted about my background in horse racing and handicapping Quarter Horses, and we discussed the show´s content. Then we perched ourselves in the high chairs clustered around a small table.

"Don´t look at me, Steve. Look into the camera," Chris said.

Seconds later Chris opened the show—smoother than Frank Sinatra. His cool, casual introduction made me feel comfortable, as though we were just two old friends having coffee at Starbucks. No pressure. My anxiety vanished.

Then he passed me the ball--gently.

"Steve, which horse do you like in this race?"

Eyeballing the camera, I adjusted the mike. The audience gazed at me. Waiting…

The words rolled out smoothly—much easier than I´d anticipated. The sentences were clear, concise and analytical, right on point. With each complete utterance I gained more and more confidence. My wife was sitting in the back row, smiling.

The speaking gods must have favored me that night. Fifteen minutes flew by. The demons grew despondent, and my optimism withered their vitality.

I even gave out a couple of well-priced horses. I love long shots.