04/08/2001

Wheels? Check.

Press credentials? Check.

Good sense? Hey, two out of three ain't bad. It'll get you in the Hall.

And I couldn't possess the latter and still accomplish my chosen weekend task:

Cut the grass, it wasn't.

Make four sporting events in three different cities on one day, it was.

And, to think, there are those among you who thought sports reporting was nothing but fun and games.

It was 3:45 p.m. Saturday when I departed Dallas headed west on Interstate 30 toward Destination No. 1, Lone Star Park in Grand Prairie, where at 4:25 the richest horse race in Texas history was scheduled to start. It was the sixth race on the afternoon, the half-million dollar Lone Star Derby.

It was a little after four when I pulled onto the property. The trumpet players were already belting out that famous post-time call.

I went straight to the window.

And, to think, there are those of you who thought that what I do for a living is mere fun and games.

"Twenty on No. 4 in the Lone Star Derby," I said to the woman sitting on the other side.

She took my Andrew Jackson and handed me a receipt.

"Good luck," she said.

I headed to the track.

My colleague who covers the ponies, Gary West, mentioned to me that the track generally witnessed a smaller crowd on days when the Rangers or Mavericks or Stars were in town. Given the human sea I waded through to make my way to the rail, it appeared as if horse racing on Saturday was the only game in town for miles.

I nestled into a small opening. The bells rung. Off they went.

And my horse, Percy Hope, was leading by a nostril as he passed me into the first turn.

But he lost his lead by the length of his head on the backstretch, which got me to thinking: Where on my expense account form would I tuck a lost $20 wager?

"And here comes Percy Hope," said the announcer as the horses came off the last turn.

"Yeah, baby!" I exclaimed, slapping my palms together. "Come on, Percy!" as he crossed the finish line first.

Then I got to thinking: Too bad there's no place on my expense account form to acknowledge a $100 profit.

And, to think, there are those of you who think this is just fun and games.

I had a baseball game to make.

It was about an eight-mile drive from the track to The Ballpark in Arlington, where the Rangers would serve the first pitch to the Mariners at 7:05. I was there in plenty of time to hear the pre-game cheers for A-Rod, jeers for Johnny Oates and enjoy a fine ballpark meal.

Two slices of cheese pizza and a cold beverage to drown it all. Twelve fifty. $12.50!

What do the people at The Ballpark think Rangers fans are? A bunch of high rollers from Lone Star Park?

So I peeled off a little something from my wad of winnings and paid.

Neither the Rangers nor the Mariners scratched the scoreboard by the time I left after the second inning for Destination No. 3: Reunion Arena.

The Mavericks and Jazz were just tipping off by the time I hopped into the car and tuned in to Matt Pinto and Brad Davis. The Dallas skyline was in sight about 10 minutes before nine when Pinto rattled my car speakers calling a Michael Finley dunk: "Michael! Don't be so mean!"

But I couldn't find a place to park. At a Mavericks game! How times have changed!

So, I double-parked. Then I couldn't find a spare seat in which to sit. Reunion looked and sounded like it did back when Aguirre, Blackman and Harper were putting chills down the Lakers' backs.

A buddy of mine who makes a living, uh, reselling tickets, spied me. The only thing fatter than the smile on his face was the cash in his pockets.

After wandering the walkways and peering through the portals, I left Reunion with the Mavericks subduing the Jazz by four after the first quarter. I was headed for my last stop, the Cotton Bowl, where the Dallas Burn was opening its season against the Tampa Bay Mutiny. It was a professional soccer game, although you would have thought from looking at the field's condition that it was a pickup game at a rec field.

But by the time I got there, the score was already 2-2, which for soccer is a veritable scoring explosion. And it was just halftime.

Then, early in the second 45-minute half, Ali Curtis and Mamadou Diallo scored for Tampa.

The final score: Mutiny 4, Burn 2. My day was over. It was time, finally, to go home, where my job would still demand that I review the nightly sports reports and catch a West Coast game off the dish.

And, to think, there are those of you ... oh, never mind.

Kevin B. Blackistone can be reached at 214-977-8780 or at .