Ambassadors
During the past year or so in racing, we were introduced to an Academy Award nominated film on the sport,
and celebrated two near misses in the Triple Crown. I realized the game had made a significant enough
stride forward while recently sitting at my dentist office. Mixed in among the standard waiting room fare
(Men’s Health, Better Homes and Garden, etc.) was a day old Racing Form. Obviously some poor punter
had planned on placing a few wagers that day, unaware that a deep scaling will pretty much ruin your whole
afternoon.
I picked it up and refamiliarized myself with the first few pages, when the woman next to me shot the
obligatory comment. “How about that Smarty Jones, huh?”
Perhaps it was the uneasiness of our pending doom with Dr. Extraction, but she seemed eager to pick up a
few insights on racing (and I the current resident expert). Some ‘big luncheon’ with the girls was coming
up at a local racing venue, and she thought I might be able to show her a thing or two.
We flipped back into the Form a few pages and picked a race. I gave her the basics on the conditions and
what some of the numbers meant. I was merely playing the role of ambassador to the Sport of Kings.
There’s been lot’s of that going on lately and I was just doing my job.
Anyway, after the ten-dollar tour around the pp’s, I asked her to explain the following race to me as a sort
of prep test for the ‘girls’.
She read thru the conditions and stopped to ask, “Why is the word subsequently used here, isn't’t that a bit
much?”
“Let’s just skip that part and take a look at the horses”, I volunteered.
Note to self-II. When explaining the nuances of racing, do yourself a favor and skip pedigree power.
“Ohhh, here’s the winner,” she barked out. “It says right here this horse is related to Secretariat! He’s
the winner!” I told her the horse’s race record was probably more important than his breeding at this point
(this particular nag was 2 for 38 lifetime, but there was no swaying her). Finally I said, “Look, I’m the son
of a carpenter out of a barmaid mare. I can’t build a damn thing.”
She continued to drone on with her newfound knowledge. At one point I thought I heard Charlie Brown’s
teacher enter the room. Then suddenly I remembered the dream that I had the night before. In it, I was
with Stanley Roper’s wife from that 70’s sitcom Three’s Company and we were on the apron of some
racetrack. Dressed in an orange moo-moo, she was offering Joe Bravo a piece of bacon. He was sitting on
his mount (the #6 for whatever that’s worth) and politely declined. Then she offered the bacon to his
horse. He said he didn't’t think that was such a good idea just prior to a race, and then gave her some free
passes.
Suddenly it all came together as I snapped back to reality. In a game where rebates, medication, host track
fees and exclusivity issues are turning customers off at an alarming rate, there is still a ton this sport has
going for it and there is indeed a need to play ambassador. Whether it’s showing a newbie the ins and outs
at the dentist office, or Jersey Joe giving out passes prior to a dream race, there’s a need.
Now what I need to do is knock off the late-night chocolate bars and let the next ambassador handle the
assignment. That and a deep scaling is what I need.
During the past year or so in racing, we were introduced to an Academy Award nominated film on the sport,
and celebrated two near misses in the Triple Crown. I realized the game had made a significant enough
stride forward while recently sitting at my dentist office. Mixed in among the standard waiting room fare
(Men’s Health, Better Homes and Garden, etc.) was a day old Racing Form. Obviously some poor punter
had planned on placing a few wagers that day, unaware that a deep scaling will pretty much ruin your whole
afternoon.
I picked it up and refamiliarized myself with the first few pages, when the woman next to me shot the
obligatory comment. “How about that Smarty Jones, huh?”
Perhaps it was the uneasiness of our pending doom with Dr. Extraction, but she seemed eager to pick up a
few insights on racing (and I the current resident expert). Some ‘big luncheon’ with the girls was coming
up at a local racing venue, and she thought I might be able to show her a thing or two.
We flipped back into the Form a few pages and picked a race. I gave her the basics on the conditions and
what some of the numbers meant. I was merely playing the role of ambassador to the Sport of Kings.
There’s been lot’s of that going on lately and I was just doing my job.
Anyway, after the ten-dollar tour around the pp’s, I asked her to explain the following race to me as a sort
of prep test for the ‘girls’.
She read thru the conditions and stopped to ask, “Why is the word subsequently used here, isn't’t that a bit
much?”
“Let’s just skip that part and take a look at the horses”, I volunteered.
Note to self-II. When explaining the nuances of racing, do yourself a favor and skip pedigree power.
“Ohhh, here’s the winner,” she barked out. “It says right here this horse is related to Secretariat! He’s
the winner!” I told her the horse’s race record was probably more important than his breeding at this point
(this particular nag was 2 for 38 lifetime, but there was no swaying her). Finally I said, “Look, I’m the son
of a carpenter out of a barmaid mare. I can’t build a damn thing.”
She continued to drone on with her newfound knowledge. At one point I thought I heard Charlie Brown’s
teacher enter the room. Then suddenly I remembered the dream that I had the night before. In it, I was
with Stanley Roper’s wife from that 70’s sitcom Three’s Company and we were on the apron of some
racetrack. Dressed in an orange moo-moo, she was offering Joe Bravo a piece of bacon. He was sitting on
his mount (the #6 for whatever that’s worth) and politely declined. Then she offered the bacon to his
horse. He said he didn't’t think that was such a good idea just prior to a race, and then gave her some free
passes.
Suddenly it all came together as I snapped back to reality. In a game where rebates, medication, host track
fees and exclusivity issues are turning customers off at an alarming rate, there is still a ton this sport has
going for it and there is indeed a need to play ambassador. Whether it’s showing a newbie the ins and outs
at the dentist office, or Jersey Joe giving out passes prior to a dream race, there’s a need.
Now what I need to do is knock off the late-night chocolate bars and let the next ambassador handle the
assignment. That and a deep scaling is what I need.
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