Escalante (I just can't call him "Turo") has scrabbled his way up from humble beginnings and is so tightly closed and seemingly uninterested in other people that one of his most lovely emotional moments came when in the finale when he asks Chester if he has any children. His girlfriend, or rather the woman he's been sleeping with, Jo (Jill Hennessy) has gotten pregnant, and suddenly the possibility of having a family, of having a life, seems like something he'd want after all. (The show caps this moment by having him step back into a bucket of water and go back to bellowing in Spanish at his underling.)
"Luck" celebrates the calm center that people who've gotten used to loss can develop, a sort of zen state and due to that, it's as gentle on and generous with their failures as their wins. Take Ronnie Jenkins, played by real-life jockey Gary Stevens, the experienced, older rider there to contrast the up-and-comers Rosie (Kerry Condon) and Leon (Tom Payne). Struggling with addictions and injuries ("I break this collarbone more than I get laid," he resignedly tells a paramedic after a fall), he's not reliable, but his fits of greatness and his times of weakness are treated with a level gaze. "That Jenkins fellow's a maestro," Rosie observes after seeing him race. "Yes he is," Walter allows, "when the spirit moves. You understand?"
A little, but that will have to do. At nine episodes total, "Luck" doesn't feel finished, but it's not the type of show that ever would. Sometimes fortune favors you and sometimes it doesn't, but you have to play the cards you're dealt.