“This is my main turf,” Frankie Abbate, 52, said, weaving his way through a sea of bettors in the grandstand area of Belmont Racetrack on Friday just after the seventh race.
He patrolled the spots where horseplayers gathered to watch the track, both outside and on the many simulcast screens indoors.
He dipped in and out of the crowd, scouring the floor for the next little white slip of paper detailing some poor chump’s pick for the order of finish.
Mr. Abbate, who scoops slips like a shortstop, quickly viewed each one, then ripped it up and moved on, leaving tickets behind in tatters.