"This symphony has a long way to go," I wrote six months ago about the desperate attempt by Laurel Racing, the Maryland Jockey Club and Magna Entertainment to ask for a do-over in their botched bid for a slots license. We're now up to -- oh -- the third movement. Molto lacrimoso.

The companies (or somebody. Maybe it's Joe DeFrancis and other partners who stand to make a mint if Laurel Park gets slots) are wasting more money on lawyers to try to get the state to reopen slots bidding. Their argument: Since the state is taking modified offers from qualifying bidders, it should start over and let everybody submit new packages.

Nice try. Here is the way to think about this. Imagine you're buying a house. It is customary to put up earnest money -- $1,000 or so. This demonstrates that you have at least a minimum amount of scratch, a small token of solvency implying that you can consummate your offer. That's when the negotiating begins. The seller makes a counteroffer, you reciprocate etc. Without the earnest money you don't even get to sit down at the table.

Laurel Racing and the Jockey Club didn't put up the earnest money. They were supposed to front $28.5 million for their bid. Now they're accusing the state of changing the slots award rules in the middle of the game. Actually, the rules were quite clear, and Laurel Racing didn't abide by them. There was reason to think that the entities that ran Pimlico and Magna into the ground would not be good bidders. When they failed to put up the bidding deposit, they proved that proposition correct. The system worked.