“It’s amazing how few horse racing movies have been produced,” Jay Cronley lamented in recounting the story behind the making of “Let it Ride,” the film version of his novel “Good Vibes.”

Cronley was right. It truly is amazing. There are too few movies and books and television programs and plays about horse racing. And of those few that have been written, so many of them are about the sport itself: the horses, riders, trainers and owners. “Good Vibes” stood out in this small field because it took as its subject the characters that hang around the sport as spectators and fans — the gamblers. But it also stood out because it was funny, it was smart, and most of all it was real.

Jay Cronley was born in Lincoln, Neb. in 1943 and spent most of his life in Oklahoma. His father was a newspaperman, the longtime sports editor of The Daily Oklahoman. Cronley followed in his father’s footsteps and became a sports writer for the Tulsa Tribune in his late twenties. When he was 36, he wrote “Good Vibes,” his second novel, about a cab driver who has an unbelievably good day at the racetrack. The reviewers called the book “Runyonesque,” and the description is apt.

Cronley (Tulsa World photo)

Like Damon Runyon, Cronley’s writing exudes style and has a rhythm all its own. The dialogue is good, yes. When the characters speak it feels real, like he knows these people well enough in the real world. But what I mean to say is that his writing itself had that feel, too. The writer is another character at that racetrack, narrating this story in a cool, aloof, smart-alecky voice that feels like a very clever friend telling you the story sitting next to you on a barstool.

Many of you have seen “Let it Ride.” It’s beloved by nearly every fan of horse racing. We watch it before big days at the track to motivate ourselves. We dust it off and show it to friends to try to introduce them to the sport. We’ve quoted it to one another at the racetrack.

But have you read “Good Vibes”? Probably not. The book has been out of print since even before the film came out. Used copies sell online for hundreds of dollars now. Even Cronley himself once admitted in a column that he didn’t own a copy. (A fan sent him one in the mail as a Christmas gift.)

But Cronley’s work didn’t stop with “Good Vibes” and “Let it Ride.” He wrote seven other books. Two of them, “Funny Farm” and “Quick Change,” were also made into major motion pictures. He wrote a newspaper opinion column for the Tulsa World for the last quarter century.

But if you really want to get a sense of Cronley as our latter-day Damon Runyon, just read any of his horse racing columns for ESPN. Here, writing about the sport he loved, he was at his best. He was playful, colorful, and happy. He had that rhythm and energy that he had in "Good Vibes."

Just read the opening of this column from 2015 where Cronley waxed about the scene hanging out on the rail at the racetrack:

The rail used to be the place where the regulars met, where a person went to catch up on gossip, to borrow some information or some money, to see which jockey looked like Lee Marvin in “Cat Ballou,” a film in which he and his horse were both loaded and spent time leaning up against buildings for support.

The rail was where imperfect strangers quickly became like close friends, where a person might spill his guts out to somebody he had never met, explaining who he liked in the next race, why he liked it and why he needed the money so desperately. The rail was where superstitions were set into motion. If you won a big bet standing 35 paces up the track with half a cup of beer, that's exactly where you went the next time you needed some money. It's where the art of the horse racetrack was found, black and white photographs of somebody bent over and looking through discarded tickets, or railing at the Objection sign or rechecking tickets one last time, hoping a number or two had mysteriously changed.

Cronley’s book “Funny Farm” was about a writer who leaves New York City for a house in the country, where he plans to write a novel and start a family with his wife. The couple encounters a strange, inhospitable universe where they do not fit in at all. The writer can’t finish his book, and what he does manage to write is terrible. This has been my life the last six months down here in Hot Springs, Ark., where my family moved from New York while I write my first book. Early on in this misadventure — one filled with wild animals, bugs, curious strangers, and a lot of homesickness — my wife and I watched the film “Funny Farm” and marveled at how embarrassingly accurate it was to our real life. I suspect that’s because, like “Good Vibes” and the racetrack, Cronley actually lived it.

He must have known what it felt like to sit there and stare at the blank page and wonder if you’re going to have to pay back your book advance once they discover you for a fraud. He must have actually handed over his first few chapters of his book to his wife to read right in front of him only to have her tell him it stunk. He must have known these things as well as he knew what it was like to sit through an agonizingly long photo finish to post up on the board, all the while knowing in your heart that your horse got there. I know he knows these things because I know these things, and I recognize myself in his writing, albeit from 35 years on down the road.

What gives me comfort is knowing that if Cronley was the same man as Andy Farmer  from “Funny Farm,” then that means he felt all those things and still prevailed. He wrote eight incredible books. His work was made into iconic films. He did the work that he loved and the work he was great at for his entire life. He made people laugh and feel good. Most importantly, he got paid to hang around the racetrack and write about it. That reason alone would qualify his life as one well lived.

Damon Runyon famously said that all of life is 6-to-5 against. Cronley died on Feb. 26 of a heart attack at the age of 73. I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet him. But I’ll always feel like I knew him.

I’ll quote my favorite scene in “Let it Ride,” one I have written about in this space before. When Trotter makes his final bet, when he lets all of his winnings ride on one final longshot, the teller, played in a brilliant cameo by British actor Robbie Coletrane, shares a cigarette with Trotter to take in the moment.

“Believe me, pal, you are the champ. I really hope you win. Yep. You’re the greatest I’ve ever seen. I’ll tell my grandchildren about you.”

If there’s a heaven up above, I hope someone up there will kindly take Jay Cronley to his seat and stay with him until the end of the race.