1958
A bell rings, and a dozen horses race out of the starting line on the dirt racetrack in Santa Anita Park in Arcadia, California. As the horses run around the dirt, the spectators in the grandstands cheer, even while listening to the announcer who is talking as fast as the horses are running. The dirt flies from the racetracks as the horses' hooves make hard contact with the turf. The crowd is wilder than usual, for the stakes in the race is stratospheric, more stratospheric than the San Gabriel Mountains in the distance.
Not even two minutes after the starting bell, the race is over as the horses cross the finish line within fifteen seconds of each other. Many of the spectators walk away with their heads down, knowing that they lost. A few hundred has won their bets, and they all line up to receive their prizes.
Even as vehicles drive around the racetrack to clean up after the horses, a man wearing a suit and carrying a huge facsimile cardboard check walks inside the interior of the grandstand, pushing through crowds. He can easily see where he is going, as his destination is marked by a crowd of people from security guards to photographers.
He sees a man in his early twenties, evidently the centerpiece of the crowd. Photographers are snapping pictures with their huge cameras.
"Smile," says the man, a racetrack official.
The photographers snap more pictures of the two men and the one million dollar facsimile check; the real check would arrive by certified mail.
The lucky winner then walks away. Today is his twenty-first birthday. While most people where he is from would go to a local bar, or a trip to the casinos next to Lake Tahoe, he flew from Sacramento to Los Angeles yesterday, and came to Santa Anita Park for this particular race.
"How is my lucky winner?" asks a pretty blond-haired lady.
"I'm always lucky with you, Meg," he replies. He puts his arms around her waist and kisses her, his heart racing even more. He does indeed feel lucky.
While he is mostly aflame with passion with this woman that he loves, Biff Tannen pats a book in his back pocket that was responsible for making the other great part of his twenty-first birthday.