LAS VEGAS -- Amid the chaos in the casino basement, you could feel electricity not connected to any power source. From the wired crowd came intermittent shouts of joy and frustration as horses raced across hundreds of television screens.

This is how some grown-ups have fun.

If playing thoroughbreds is your pastime, passion or addiction, the race and sports book at Bally's Las Vegas was your nervous nirvana last weekend. Two hundred sixty-one men and women slugged it out Friday and Saturday in the fifth annual Daily Racing Form/NTRA National Handicapping Championship, and the stress was enough to fry the brain of the most battle-hardened gambler.

The contest's finale typified the insanity. The last chance for a life-changing score came in a maiden race for Texas-breds at Sam Houston. Run in the slop in a driving rainstorm, there was a nasty spill in midstretch and a blown call by the track announcer, who thought the 12 horse was in front before realizing it was the 2 just before the wire. One man yelled, "I had the 12 and I thought I was home, but it was the 2. Damn!"

Oh, this funny old game is full of surprises.

In a city where clocks are taboo, timing meant everything. With distractions all around, staying focused and organized was almost as crucial as doping out long-priced winners. A few missteps in the pari-mutuel minefield, and dreams of victory blew up. Hard-luck stories were as common as discarded Racing Forms, BRIS past performances and Ragozin sheets.

For one person, there would be euphoria and glory. For everybody else, disappointment and regrets. To be the last one standing, you needed brilliant insights, the guts to go against the grain, and, maybe most of all, luck. This time, it was Kent Meyer, a low-key, 38-year-old landlord from Sioux City, Iowa. Meyer's tangible rewards were a check for $100,000 and the Eclipse Award as Handicapper of the Year. The real payoffs were bragging rights for eternity and the view from the summit of a horseplayer's Everest.

With Meyer at the awards banquet Saturday night was his wife, Cammie. She also accompanied Meyer to last year's contest, where he finished 32nd, but with a valid excuse. Before the contest, they eloped to Vegas and officially became a coupled entry at the Elvis Presley Wedding Chapel. "Yeah, my wife is a big Elvis fan," Meyer told an amused audience. "You're not supposed to have distractions when you come to this tournament, but last year I got married here the day before. I guess that explains my performance a year ago."

He couldn't have celebrated their first anniversary any better. Viva Las Vegas, and thank you very much.

Meyer compiled a mythical bankroll of $238.40 based on $2 win and $2 place bets on 30 races. Although he never was worse than third in the standings, he had to sweat until the end. Runner-up David Krosunger of Wallington, Pa., totaled $232.60, only $5.80 behind. A nose here, a neck there, and Krosunger would have been King of the World.

"I think last year's experience helped me a lot," Meyer said. "I'd never been in anything like this before, and I was much more comfortable this time. It's nerve-wracking to hear all the hooting and hollering around the room. It got to me last year, but I didn't pay much attention to it this year."

Jersey Gia paid $35.60 to win and $16.80 to place in the second race at Aqueduct Friday, the first of Meyer's 10 winners. "It seems you have to hit something early so that you don't start pressing," he said. "When I hit [Jersey Gia], that got me going."

Among those Meyer defeated was defending champion Steve Wolfson Jr., a 36-year-old high school social studies teacher from Holly Hill, Fla. Unlike last year, when big prices came in for him on cue, Wolfson could never get rolling and make a serious move.

"There didn't seem to be as many opportunities on Day One," Wolfson said, "and that just kind of continued for me the rest of the way."

Your roving cyberspace correspondent didn't do anything, either, earning only $54.20 after more than doubling that figure last year. Playing again for charity in the four-team celebrity/media competition, Eddie Mac managed to finish behind four Penthouse Pets, but at least Pet of the Year Victoria Zdrok beat me by only 60 cents. Many did far worse. Six contestants never even got a horse to run second and ended up with $0.00. It's always nice to find someone to look down upon.

Like Wolfson, I didn't find many live longshots to zero in on. Turf racing is my game, and this year I couldn't connect with any 12-1 and 7-1 grass first-timers. I was utterly lost in a few races, including a $5,000 claimer at Turf Paradise and a $3,200 conditioned claimer from Golden Gate Fields. I have no feel for cheap claimers and almost never play them. My motto: "Never bet on a horse I could afford to claim."

Although I failed to generate any money for a worthy cause, I did enrich my favorite charity, my wallet. Exactas worth $79, $65 and $52 and profitable sessions at blackjack and seven-card stud sent me home about $100 ahead.

Well, it's only money, and it comes and goes a lot faster than you can keep track. Keeping score can be an obsession, but the object of the handicapping game is just to keep playing it. Unlike brainless action such as slots and roulette, horse racing challenges the mind, and victory brings an ego boost as you cash. It's the best game in the world, and the sport's greatest challenge is to get potential players to realize that and to convert them.

The National Handicapping Championship reminds us that people from all backgrounds enjoy the intellectual challenge of picking winners. Qualifiers from 94 tournaments in North America ranged from age 21 to 89 and included hundreds of occupations, from cop to track announcer, from criminal lawyer to abstract artist.

There's a vast and diverse community of handicappers out there, even if we are always at odds with each other. We couldn't and wouldn't have it any other way. Join us.