Harness Racing…why do we stay at it?
Feb. 21, 2008
I’ve been involved in harness racing since 1981, when I was a publicity intern with the United States Trotting Association while still a journalism major at The Ohio State University. By the way, back then we just called it Ohio State–now, some more formal years later, it’s politically correct to use “The” as the start of the title. But that’s not the crux of this story.
Here’s what is.
Why do we little guys–the people with the one, two, three and four-horse stables–stay in the harness racing business year after year, competing against bigger stables that can afford higher-quality stock and seem to think nothing of entering the winner’s circle multiple times on a nightly basis?
For sure it can’t be the money. There’s simply not enough around anymore in the form of purses–especially in Chicago–to make it cost effective for the small owner. Even the owner-trainer who does everything themselves–does well to simply break even. In most cases, these folks have another full-time job–such as a truck driver, a bricklayer, or even a freelance journalist–to support their horse in harness habit.
Some reasons are obvious. The thrill of victory–to be sure, is one, and also, the realization that together, you and your equine partner have achieved the tough goal of besting a field of eight or more rivals to reach the wire first. Not an easy task when you consider that all of your competitors are out there trying to accomplish that same goal.
After 27 years in the business as a journalist and as a owner-trainer and in my younger years, as a driver, harness racing provides me with an unparalled thrill. And, it gives me a purpose.
When a horse I own or train wins, the thrill is unequalled and hasn’t ceased even by the next morning. That next morning when–despite a drizzling rain and wind that would make the Wicked Witch of the West leave her broom at home, I show up with a box of Dunkin Donuts and multiple coffees for my barn buddies in recognition of my “big” win the night before.
I was wondering if some of the other “small guys” in racing felt the same way as I did–so on a chilly Thursday Chicago night at Maywood Park, I questioned a few of these “small guys” of our sport.
Some trainers had shipped over four hours to race at the Windy City’s only half-mile oval–some from southern Illinois and others from Wisconsin–to compete in the last race on the evening’s 12-race card–a $4,000 claiming event with a purse of $3,550–that would ultimately go to the gate at nearly 11:15 pm,CT.
Some of these people wouldn’t be able to leave Maywood until well after midnight–especially the winner and the “special” horse selected randomly for post-race drug testing. Many wouldn’t be pulling into their driveways or county fair tracks until way past 4 am. And some would be doing this without having made a dime.
One grizzlied old-timer said that “this is what I do, it’s what my father did and what his father did.” I asked him if he got that thrill when his horse won. “Not really,” he replied. “It’s nice, but otherwise, I just wouldn’t know what else to do with my time. I guess racing is a habit for me.”
One young female trainer from the Badger State with somewhat non-competitive pacers said enthusiastically that she “just loves the horses and wants to be in racing for the rest of her life.” I asked her–with her two very young children sitting obediently nearby–what drives her to be here on a frigid night, to compete from the eight-hole, when she could be enjoying a nice evening in a warm house. “It’s the whole thing,” she said. “It’s that I’m able to be involved in this sport, and that I might have a chance to win something.”
A young man from Indiana who rarely does well but shows up doggedly week after week with his family–a wife and three young sons in tow–said that racing is “in my blood. I don’t know another way of life.”
Another: “there’s always that chance you’ll end up with a good one,” and “it’s just I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
Basically, all of these people were saying the same thing. If the jargon was different, their message was not: Purpose.
Harness racing–for many, this writer included–provides a purpose that otherwise might be missing from our lives. As well, it also offers we little people of the sport the slight chance that someday perhaps, we might too, just end up with “a good one.”
