The Inside Rail

Contributions from TIHR co-founder, editor and writer Sean Clancy.

Pitch & Putt

Darrel McHargue hit a sweet drive and was on his way to the green for a three-foot birdie putt on the 16th hole at Palm Desert Golf Course in California when his phone rang.

For the Horse

Found this in the archives of The Saratoga Special. 2008.

We should be...

I catch myself saying it, thinking it, pondering it. We should be...

Cup of Coffee: Know Him

In the ongoing, never-ending, sarcastic, sensationalist, one-upmanship of the Internet, the comment has rung and stung from the beginning.

James R. Wyatt, Jr.

I can hear the pages turning, can see them in my friend’s trembling hands. One by one, six pages, front and back, printed pages, from a typewriter back when letters punched the paper, words laid out like bricks in a wall, offering permanency and finality.

Open Saturday

Binoculars. Passes. Sport coat. Tape recorder. Mints. Water bottle (reusable). Two Fasig-Tipton pens. Sharpie for autographs. Betting money. Eating money. Green or red tie? Boots or loafers? Raincoat? Yeah, can’t hurt, throw it in the car.

John Prine, an old friend who I never met

Ironically, there’s a fly buzzing around the kitchen as I sit down in the dark, pour the first cup of coffee and think about John Prine.

Isolation Days 9-14

Self Isolation. Day 9. Monday.

Still no symptons. Temperature steady in the 98 range. Back to work. Office work. Well, more like guest-room work. Trying to sell horses and advertising. During a pandemic. It's going well.

Bonus: Should I have gone to Cheltenham?

Editor's note: The following column appeared in last weekend's print edition of The Irish Field, recapping Sean's trip to the 2020 Cheltenham Festival, complete with his annual "Letters From America."  

“You can’t live your life in fear.” That’s what I said as I packed my wool suits, my Cheltenham overcoat, my camera, my stashed British pounds, my press pass and left for England. I repeated that mantra until it weakened, until it lost its levity. It began to sound trite, flippant, ridiculously out of touch.