I keep having this weird dream. I dream that I’m the last super fan of thoroughbred racing standing — the only human being left on Earth to have been to every Breeders’ Cup. 

And then, I’m on the verge of missing one, and the fear of it wakes me, and all is OK again. “What the heck is this about?” I wonder, sweating beneath the bed sheets like a 2-year-old being taken to the post on a hot Texas day.

Thus far, I’ve been to all 21.  So, too, have 14 other writers who cover the sport, and a handful of Breeders’ Cup officials such as Pam Blatz-Murff, who coordinates the arrangements for the horses that will run, and Tom Durkin, the race-caller who’s called them all since the series began.

But not many people at all — there are not many “true blue” fans like me who have paid their own way to be a part of it. The World Thoroughbred Championships at Lone Star Park on Oct. 30 was my 21st Breeders’ Cup day.

Others subsequently bitten
Recently, I met a guy from Schenectady, N.Y., named Joe Cacciolfi who started his own streak in 1988, five years after I began mine.  Cacciolfi and three bowling buddies went to their first Breeders’ Cup at Churchill Downs because one of the four had frequent flyer miles to burn.  The next year they talked a fifth into going, and he hit the National Pick 6 for $22,000. Today, there are a half dozen in their entourage and they haven’t missed a Breeders’ Cup since.

There’s a racing fan in Birmingham, Ala., named Michael Pizitz who goes every year, too. He started his string with the Breeders’ Cup of 1987 when Sacahuista won the Distaff at Hollywood. Pizitz keeps meticulous records of each little detail of each trip, but he remembers Sacahuista without a prompt.  The bet he made on Sacahuista was the biggest bet he ever made on a Breeders’ Cup winner. Sacahuista paid $7.80.  I wonder what Pizitz plunked down?. 

But despite their devotion to the Breeders’ Cup, neither Cacciolfi nor Pizitz have been to them all. To have attended all 20, you would have to be old enough to have had an interest in racing in 1984.  And you would have had to have the money and time to set aside a weekend in some far-off place year after year like clockwork. You would have had to live without interruption from illness or conflict or bad fortune on the day of the races. You would have had to be lucky.

Katie Cannon / MSNBC.com file

I’ve been lucky more than once. My luckiest bets were on Lashkari ($108.80) in the inaugural Turf at Hollywood and Last Tycoon ($73.80) in the 1989 Mile at Santa Anita. Then there were Alphabet Soup ($41.70) in the 1996 Classic at Woodbine, Cat Thief ($41.20) in the 1999 Classic at Gulfstream, and Unbridled Elaine ($26.60) in the Juvenile Fillies at Belmont in 2001.  But even those unlikely paydays aren’t the real reason for feeling fortunate.

I feel fortunate because most of the Breeders’ Cups to which I’ve gone, I’ve gone with someone I love.  My wife Maureen has been my champion companion for at least a dozen.  My son Jon, now 30, has been to 10, including the one in 1991 when Arazi wreaked havoc like a hurricane to win the Juvenile in Kentucky.  My daughter Annie, 28, took a stab on Volponi in Chicago in 2002.  My daughter Biz, 24, got jiggy with Skip Away in California back in 1997.

Moments stand out like bullet works
All of our Breeders’ Cup experiences haven’t been perfect, but in our remembrance of things past, we’ve made them so.  Some races, in particular, stand out like bullet workouts.

When Go For Wand broke down at Belmont in 1990 as she drove through the stretch with Bayakoa, Maureen and I watched the tragedy unfold on television, in a tent where champagne was being sipped and laughter filled the air.  The gasp let out by the onlookers stunned the space and stopped time.

In 1988, when Is It True beat the odds-on Easy Goer at Churchill to break up my perfect Pick 6, I felt the earth fall away, defeated in my quest to win one of racing’s toughest bets by playing just one horse in each of the races required.  That was the glorious day when Personal Ensign got up by a nose against Winning Colors in the Distaff to stay undefeated, and Alysheba won The Classic like a thief in the dark.

And, then, there were the Breeders’ Cup races I remember because great horses lost.

There was the gloomy, cold Saturday at Aqueduct in 1985 when Storm Cat was  defeated by Tasso.  I recall the back-to-back years of 1992 and 1993 when Meafara just missed in the Breeders’ Cup Sprint.  She was a game, gutsy speedball owned by a guy who sat in a box next to mine at Arlington. And, tell me, was there a better horse than Swain in the 1998 Classic at Churchill?  To this day, I’m convinced that Swain became confused about where he was and raced to have the rail on his right like they do in Europe, yet nobody has offered this excuse to explain why he why he was beaten by Awesome Again and Silver Charm.

Thrills and chills on and off track
Because of 21 years of Breeders’ Cups, my family and I have danced to the music of a Bruce Willis band at a post-race bash in the Hollywood hills. We have weighed the sage advice of the legendary Pete Axthelm at an advertiser party.  We have sat in the bitter cold of Belmont Park as honor guards saluted the fallen firemen of 9/11, and in the balmy, fall cast of Woodbine as our American flag was unfurled beside the red maple leaf of Canada. 

At 21 years and counting, I’ve come of age and earned the right to dream.

Now if I could only sleep.

MORE FROM BREEDERS' CUP

Breeders' Cup expands 3 races to 14

Breeders' Cup expands 3 races to 14 DRF: Curlin back home on routine after Classic win DRF: Championships decided on the track Curlin wins muddy Breeders’ Cup Classic Baffert ends Breeders’ Cup drought in style Derby favorite? War Pass romps in Juvenile Pricci: Past is prologue in Breeders' Cup   Add Breeders' Cup headlines to your news reader: