Jay couldn't make it to Louisville this year, choosing to watch and wager on the Derby from home.

8 a.m. Central Time

I wake up thinking of nothing but savers.

The main thing I need is to save the day.

I have asked a woman to share this special time with me, some live races and a full simulcast schedule, including the Derby.

What could I have been thinking?

She's attractive, that must have been thepredominant thought.

8:10 a.m.

Before I can call in sick, she rings my phone and asks what she should wear.

I tell her something casual.

8:30 a.m.

During the Breakfast at the Derby show, ESPN reports that Kid Rock and Pam Anderson were seen at the big party the night before, seeming sincere about their love for one another.

They didn't say who Kid liked in the Derby so I could run a line through his choice.

No offense to Ms. Anderson.

9:30 a.m.

I do a radio interview with a station on the west coast about the Derby.

The caller asks a good question: Do I bet what I predict?

The answer is yes, five bucks minimum, per pick.

I also bet other things.

The guy on the radio seemed a little huffy about that and says pick one. I do: Peace Rules.

10:15 a.m.

A friend calls from the infield at Churchill Downs and says he can't see anyhing except overweight men and teenage girls. Would I please call the race off my television set for him.

They were off the second he called and I tried my best.

There goes the purple followed by the black with orange sitting sweet.

He didn't call back.

11 a.m.

My date for Derby Day wears a dress and asks if we're stopping by my place so I can change.

I explain that we're headed to an outside arena and that I meant to wear shorts.

She rides in the right half of the front bucket seat.

Noon.

The simulcast building is full of smoke and people I have never seen before.

Lines are long.

Those who aren't drinking beer probably have the flu.

All the clerks and track personnel know me.

This is just one of the number of things that appear to concern the woman at my elbow.

I suggest that we go sit outside in the open-air grandstand now that the thunderstorm has passed.

1:30 p.m.

The plan is to bet the Derby early and then go home and watch it on the big-screen television.

I spread materials all over the bleachers and explain a Derby strategy that seldom fails. You throw out the favorite and the trendy media picks, in this case Indian Express and Ten Most Wanted, the key point being: Since when is the Illinois Derby a measure of greatness?

My Derby date says she's going to bet $2 to win on each horse and save the winning ticket in case it becomes a collector's item.

Then she says she's not feeling all that well.

She is feeling well enough to ask to see my Derby tickets.

I explain a gentleman never exposes his bets.

2:15 p.m.

The woman with me sees a couple she knows and goes to say hello.

3 p.m.

In a live four-furlong maiden race in front of me, I play a 12-1 shot that is second-time Lasix and with a conformation that appears somewhat proportionate.

It wins for fun and I buy some beers for the sourpusses that surround me.

3:45 p.m.

I find my date and her friends more or less hiding under a corner of the grandstand.

They want to watch the Derby in a festive atmosphere, not my living room.

So they head for a club, no hard feelings.

4 p.m.

The last bet I made before returning home was a $5 4-5-6 Exacta box, Atswhatimtalknbout, Peace Rules and Funny Cide.

Having eliminated trendy picks Indian Express and Ten Most Wanted, losing would be hard work.

4:43 p.m.

An announcer on NBC calls Ten Most Wanted, Five Most Wanted. Really.

A little after 5 p.m.

The gates open and suddenly the Illinois Derby looks like the Illinois Derby, and Indian Express looks overmatched by about a dozen of these.

But Peace Rules goes after Brancusi way too soon.

From my living room, I instruct Edgar Prado to simply follow Brancusi around, easy as you please.

But the five takes the lead and Funny Cide, the six, does the stalking.

So I am left to will Peace Rules to the wire for the place.

Up jumps the favorite for second.

Atswhatimtalknbout closes big for fourth as big closers are wont to do.

If you know of anything more unappealing that a favorite can do than get up by an inch for second, you know where to reach me.

Write to Jay at jaycronley@go.com