Odds On Racing - Harness Racing

The Other Side of the Tracks
Thes articles originally appeared in the Baltimore Sun newspaper
May 22, 2007

All those associated with the Preakness Stakes deserve kudos for putting on a spectacular show Saturday.

A record crowd of 121,263 witnessed a race as fast as any ever run at the course and that featured a finish so close that a single bob of the head may have made the difference in Curlin's victory over Kentucky Derby winner Street Sense.

This was the best that horse racing has to offer - and it didn't require that a single slot machine be installed at Pimlico Race Course.

How unfortunate that slot machines continue to be promoted as the golden tonic of our age, the balm for not only the declining attendance at Maryland tracks (on days other than Preakness Saturday, that is) but also the state's budget woes.

That's certainly the view of Magna Entertainment, owner of Pimlico and Laurel Park, which stands to make an enormous windfall if the General Assembly chooses to buy this snake oil. Yes, slots might bring customers to Pimlico, and all the money fed into the machines would no doubt include a tax payoff for the state (although the revenue potential has been grossly oversold). But they also carry an enormous cost, financial and social.

Slots represent a regressive tax on the poor and fixed-income residents. And they carry a particular burden for law enforcement, which must address increased crime, and for local businesses that lose their customers to gambling. That's not helpful to a struggling neighborhood such as Pimlico.

Gov. Martin O'Malley has been talking up slots lately, and aides are exploring the possibility of a "limited" franchise at the racetracks as part of a budget-balancing initiative. But such a proposal still faces long odds in Annapolis. Why? Because House members will once again be divided by the core issues - where to locate the machines (rare is the community that wants them nearby) and who gets to profit from them.

The whole concept of a limited expansion of gambling seems fraudulent on its face. Surrounding states are already engaged in a veritable arms race of gambling. Next month, voters in West Virginia's Jefferson County will decide whether to permit table games at Charles Town, which is just 67 miles from Baltimore. Instead of arguing for slots, Magna will soon be asking for a full-fledged casino to keep up - and a state government dependent on gambling revenues is unlikely to deny it.

Maryland horse racing has a proud tradition exemplified by the Preakness. Propping it up with slot machines so it might continue as some half-forgotten vestigial appendage does no honor to the sport of kings.

A year ago, Kentucky Derby winner Barbaro faltered just after the start of the Preakness. That heart-stopping bobble, the swift and urgent response by his jockey Edgar Prado and the first on-track workers to run to his aid, the stricken looks on the faces of his trainer, owners and fans were images that will never be forgotten. The waves of attention that followed Barbaro's van ride to New Bolton Center, his complex surgery by lantern-jawed veterinarian Dr. Dean Richardson, and the ups and downs charted until his eventual euthanasia in January had far-reaching impact. The light that shone on Barbaro's state-of-the-art medical care extended well beyond the country lane in Kennett Square, Pa., where he spent his final months in intensive care, affecting even seemingly unrelated racing issues.

May 20, 2007
It would be no great stretch to say that Barbaro's injury and death have accelerated the decision by racetracks in the U.S. and Canada to explore or install safer synthetic racing surfaces. He marshaled national support to an anti-horse slaughter bill. He brought overdue attention to the need to improve working and living conditions for backstretch employees.

Barbaro's legacy has yet to shine in racing's darkest corners, however: the use and abuse of illegal race-day medications. With two of the nation's top trainers having served punishments for medication violations in the past year - Todd Pletcher and Steve Asmussen, who both had runners in the Derby and yesterday's Preakness - drugs continue to strike at the very integrity of the game.

Racing has no national governing body. Racing commissions in the 38 states that permit pari-mutuel racing set their own rules on what race-day medications are allowed, how much and how they are administered, and how horses are to be tested. A horse that races in all three legs of the Triple Crown - in Kentucky, Maryland and New York respectively - races under three different sets of medication rules. Imagine if the Mets, and any team playing them at Shea Stadium, were allowed the use of steroids, but the Cubs, and any team playing them at Wrigley, were barred from using steroids but were allowed amphetamines. Since 2002, the Racing Medication and Testing Consortium has been striving to unite racing's fiefdoms for uniform guidelines to control race-day medications, and to standardize tests and penalties. Progress is encouraging, but also frustratingly glacial.

The long-term implications of medicating racehorses are even more disturbing than the ugly threat of cheating. The use of the anti-bleeding medication Lasix is so prevalent that it is rare to find a thoroughbred racing without it. All 20 Derby starters and all nine Preakness starters this year ran on Lasix. Masking weaknesses with drugs goes against the very nature of improving the breed. It doesn't take a Masters in genetics to realize that breeding bleeders to bleeders will beget more bleeders. Darwin would weep, and probably avoid the $2 window.

Pre-race detention barns and the presence of the "Big Event" policing squad (the Thoroughbred Racing Protective Bureau) at major races such as the Triple Crown and Breeders' Cup may deter the crooks when the world is watching, but what about the everyday game?

The sport desperately needs the same security and scrutiny at every race to protect its horses, its customers, and its future.