Taking Risk

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." -Robert Frost

In 1492, a man defied public consensus, took three wooden ships and sailed into the unknown, likely to never return. His discovery spawned a transformation which forever changed the way the world would see itself.

In 1776, fifty-six men risked their lives signing a document of treason. Had they failed, they would have been hung. The option was simple: liberty or death. From this game of political roulette came a new country.

In 1990, a woman, destitute, anonymous, and unpublished sat down and wrote. She wrote for five years, a story from her mind. There were no guarantees anyone would ever want to read it. Eighteen years later, she published her final seventh of the series. It was an instant bestseller.

Nothing worthwhile in life comes without taking risk. Whether its the girl risking her heart by leaving everything she knows to be with the man she loves, the investor purchasing shares in a penny stock hoping that the company will beat bankruptcy, or the handicapper putting his two dollars down on a fifty to one Derby longshot, only the greatest rewards come with the greatest risk. Like the examples above, I risk my own time, money, and humility trying to make horse racing a better sport. Like a select few, I can see clearly that unless something radically new occurs our game will wither and die. It’s already happening here in California. Horses are shipping out in bulk, headed for states where slot money props the game up like adrenaline on a dying patient. But unless a more permanent solution is found eventually the patient's heart will collapse. Already the supplies of epinephrine are running out. In Iowa, questions are being raised that Prairie Meadows is taking too much money from slots to prop up racing. In West Virginia, Mountaineer laid off 10% of their workforce due to declining slot revenue.

Slots will not save racing.

Only racing can save racing. People are going to have to get up out of their chairs, put their chips on the table, and take a spin if they want the sport to return to anything of its former glories. The days of the same old same old product have to stop. The game needs to act swiftly and decisively. It has to risk itself. Take a track, any track, and call it no meds track. No lasix, no bute, just oats and water. See what happens. Do handicappers sensing a more honest game increase handle? Does public outcry die down? Do horses become sounder? Or do all the horses run for the hills and the starting gates empty? What about risking a horse longer in racing so fans have an equine to stand behind? Or is the breeding shed our only priority? What about risking the time and money providing an ownership level product that insures managers don't empty the coffers or sell broken down horses marked up one hundred percent. Will it work or will it flop? What about the time and money in creating a program that cultivates the next generation of racing fans? Will it just be a waste or will a surge in interest book up the program within the first two days of the meet's start?

Racing is where it is because in the 70s it stopped making itself a better product. It stopped investing in itself. It stopped trying to be number one. People cry out that things are getting worse each year but those who cry the most do the least. They create an alphabet soup of organizations, CHRB, TOC, KTA-KTOB, and pledge for reform, but at the heart of it nothing happens. They ignore complaints. They do not answer e-mails. They do not support their owners or bettors. They collect their $333,333 a year salaries, sit back, and let things fall as they will. They discuss a new product idea for over thirty years, in a dozen different arrangements, but fail to implement even one. There's no "fall off the edge of the earth", no "liberty or death", no "rejection of submission" risk taking, instead our sport settles that complacency is the best policy.

I will not accept that.

I will stand and fight and give my time and throw my money away driving to and fro, using my keyboard until I have to replace the backspace key to e-mail every grand pumba of ABCD and EFG, every regional and local newspaper, to annoy as many people as necessary; all in the effort to make something happen to empower the greater good of the game. A long time ago I stopped measuring my racing success in pick-3s cashed, but in the number of friends and strangers I could coax out to the track on any given weekend. 28. 21. 32! I dare you to beat that madam chairwoman of XYZ. So if you love your sport, fight for it.

By the way, Mike Ziegler, we're going to meet... eventually.

PERSEVERANCE!