For two bucks you're a hero at Suffolk Downs.

There are no little men at a racetrack. You pays your money and you takes your choice and Eddie Arcaro and Hill Gail are working for you. It's a challenge to the sporting enthusiast, the mathematician, the donester.

The horses aren't too hot over in East Boston. It's crowded and the state gets 16 percent but you can double your money, or triple it, sometimes.

It's nice in Revere in the springtime. The sun shines on the infield, the air is fresh and clear, and optimism abounds.

There's a great thrill when your horse pulls ahead, leads into the backstretch, holds the rail until the finish, and then fades at the fire. It's nice to be in a crowd when there's not a fight.

So you go on out.

You meet a guy in the paddock and he takes you aside. "Listen," he says, "I got something in the next race. It's a shoo-in, a boat race, in the tank, the fix is on. And drop a sawbuck on for me. I'll meet you here later."

An old woman is sitting on the grass, a racing form over her shoulders. She's picking a leaf off a rose.

And four guys are selling "Lawton's card," "Jack's card," "Gilroy's Card." "Say, Mac want a winner? We had five Go home a winner."

The cop is standing at the cigarette counter, pointing to a program in the winner's hand.

Your date says, "I like the grey one."

It's easy. Everybody's got a winner.

Not for you. Gotta look at the form. Gotta see what the horses can do What's that, Fighting Lewis? Say Mabel, ain't your brother's kid named Louie? Not, so loud baby. People's listenin'!

And so to the two buck window Louie.

He's gotta do it. I need the dough. He's six to one. Watch him go.