There is one thing about my younger brother, Legs, that you have to know. He will never go horseback riding with me again.
While that is disturbing to me, I find it understandable. Purely and simply, my brother is a coward when it comes to horses. Especially after that last wild ride we took in Tucson, AZ. Woooeee! It was a beaut. I still smile when I remember it and I'll describe it toward the end of this story.
Legs and I have been partners in a lot of gambling ventures. We have tried our luck on greyhound dogs, thoroughbred race horses, harness horses and poker. While he refuses to play poker on his own, he gives me advice on how to play. Sometimes it even makes sense.
At The Meadows and Rivers Casino in Pittsburgh, he stuck to the slot machines and I played poker. His wife Marie would always give me last minute instructions on how late we could stay out, thinking I could control my brother. HAH! When it comes to slot machines, General George Patton couldn't stop Legs from giving that handle one last pull.
If I won, I gave him some of my winnings. If he won, which was rare, he did the same thing to me. Call it brotherly love.
He had a system for the greyhounds that always worked -- when he didn't play it. When he did put the money down, that's another story.
Sometimes he would sit behind me in a poker game. He knew he couldn't talk to me while I was in the middle of a hand. Casino rules, one person to a hand. But afterwards, Lordie, how he could criticize my play.
'How could you call that guy with only a pair of nines?', he would ask. 'Obviously he had you beat.'
'Brother, you don't play poker so how would you know?,' I would argue. My arguments were always futile. We're both Lawrenzis, we're Italian, and we're stubborn.
I have called him on my cell phone when I made the final table in a poker tournament. My brother goes to bed early and some of those calls came near midnight. But after he became wide awake, he would share some of the thrills I was experiencing at the poker table. That, too, is brotherly love.
The reason he won't go horseback riding with me again goes back to a ride we took on a trail just outside Tucson, AZ. some years ago. Legs was riding behind me on a brown mare that just wanted to get back to the stable.
About a mile from the stable, I got tired of plodding along and kicked my horse into a gallop. She took off like a shot and, unknown to me, Legs' horse followed.
I was having the time of my life watching the cacti and rocks flash by. My brother, meanwhile, had lost his reins and was clinging to his horse's neck for dear life. He was yelling for help, but I didn't hear him. I was caught up in the glory of my galloping steed.
When we arrived at the stable, I slowed down to a trot. Then I turned around and saw my brother. He was hanging onto the horses belly and as I watched him, he slowly slid to the ground in a cloud of dust.
He got up painfully and said, 'YOU....ARE...CRAZY! I will never again go horseback riding with you, and you can take that to the bank.'
And you know what? He has kept his word.
