By Dustin Brown
Nobody really knows if Funny Cide had any idea that the hordes of fans craning their necks and screaming his name had braved the rain and the muck just for him.
He had his own problems to worry about, like the muddy track and that infernal Empire Maker’s spotlight-stealing strut to the finish.
But if Funny Cide could talk — endowed with a Mr. Ed-like ability to articulate more sophisticated fare than his whinnies and neighs would allow — perhaps he would sound like one of the thousands of spectators who watched his Triple Downfall.
“My shoe broke, we’re cold, we’re miserable — and we’re not winning,” lamented an inebriated Rockaway resident named Cindy two hours before Funny Cide slid into third place.
Funny Cide was hardly the only one to come out on the losing end of the Belmont Stakes Saturday.
Poor Cindy had only the banter of her giddy friends, the shelter of a blue-and-white striped tent and a magical drink she called Guavaberry Pina Colada to get through her water-logged day, which she spent in the festive picnic area soaked in alcohol as much as rain.
But even though she and her gang weren’t keeping a close eye on the track — perhaps they were scarred from losing $320 — they still harbored some hometown loyalty to the New York-bred Funny Cide.
“Being from New York, I want Funny Cide, Sunnyside, Upside Down — whatever — to win,” Cindy said.
Muddy rivulets and pools of rainwater flowed around islands of beer cans and peninsulas of trash that peppered the grounds, where the hum of debauchery grew into a roar of desperate shouts whenever race time hit.
A gang of guys from FedEx enjoyed perhaps the best vantage point beneath their white tent only yards away from a betting booth equipped with television screens.
“We’re not rookies. This is our seventh year — we know how to prepare,” said Mike Frost, 39, from Babylon, who had the all-important task of lugging out “the beers” for his party crew. They were more than $3,000 ahead in the middle of the afternoon.
Even those Belmont veterans were excited about Funny Cide’s historic bid.
“That’s something you can tell your grandchildren, you were here to witness a Triple Crown,” Frost said. “Out of the seven years we came, this is the fourth time there could have been a Triple Crown.”
They’re now looking forward to their fifth opportunity.
Closer to the real action, a canopy of umbrellas greeted Funny Cide’s prance before the spectators as he trotted to the stadium for his ill-fated turn around the track.
Inside, anticipation mounted.
“We came all the way from Florida to see Funny Cide,” said Phyllis Perry of Ft. Lauderdale, decked out in her racing finest — a white-and-black number that matched her boyfriend’s snazzy suit. “We were hoping we were gonna bring some sunshine with us. We brought it a day early — the timing was off.”
In the end, Funny Cide missed out on the sunshine of adulation that would have greeted him if he stayed in front across the finish line.
The throngs of spectators who stood and poured out a torrent of sound to greet his dash out the starting gate simply picked up their things and dispersed when the Triple Crown hopeful tripped up his chance.
“It looked like it was going to be his day,” said Gary Samperi of Massachusetts, who has seen every Belmont Stakes for the past 27 years. “It looked like Funny Cide was just trying to shake him off, but Empire Maker just got the better of him.”
But some were pleased, reaping rewards for not placing their money on the local favorite.
“Omigosh, my heart wants to jump out of my chest,” said one Belmont employee who had to ask a stranger to place her winning bet, in which she chose the three top finishers in any order.
But at least Funny Cide had his chance. Some horses never even got to run — like Intelligent Male, who was scratched before his midday race even began.
Always looking on the funny side, Cindy knew that horse was doomed as soon as she saw his name.
“It’s like, hello — I don’t think so. They came to their senses and they scratched the horse,” Cindy said. “Intelligent Male? Can you imagine?”
Reach reporter Dustin Brown by e-mail at Timesledger@aol.com or call 718-229-0300, Ext. 154.
