A memo to racing’s lifers
by Bob Heyden
The first full week of summer is one of uncertainty. Never before did you begin your prime time of the year without actually knowing where the following year’s Hambletonian would be. Tracks are closing and you know the business is
not close to what you most fondly remember, but what is? After so many years, some call it sweat equity, does any of that matter now? Does anyone know or care about your current itinerary?
Whether you are 45, 65, or 80, you find yourself wondering how you went from a foothold to a footnote. A “Go-To” person to now thinking is it time “To Go?” From once showing the way to now on occasion being in the way. From the box seats to the bleachers.
George Foreman told us that young champions have a way of becoming old contenders. No matter how far you are into your cups, you absolutely want to think you still have it.
You have been around long enough to remember when racetracks had gift shops, information booths, elevator operators, parking lot attendants, clubhouse season passes, fancy restaurants, and trip-to-Ireland giveaways. Tracks were a destination point; a meeting place. And the backstretch was a fraternity and sorority. Nobody thought anything of cramming into the trailer for a seven-hour ship. It was what you did. Everyone knew everyone. Their business was yours too.
Camaraderie was not a strong enough word. That my friend is today’s daydream. Kind of like taking care of two horses was 40-50 years ago.
No matter your business, after four or five decades you’ll likely have a pocketful of “What Ifs?”
Oh sure, you more than likely tried the business world a time or two, but there’s a gravitational pull in racing like no other. Your friends, too numerous to even count from your 20s and 30s, have, to say the least, thinned out. The ones actually still with us.
There’s a saying that you get out of something what you put into it. Very likely a majority of racing’s lifers are scratching their head over that one. What is there to look forward to? Can you still pull your weight? Are you “modern”
enough? Can you match strides with workers 30-40 years younger?
What keeps you doing this? Is it really any different than the wealthy owner at the yearling sale trying to duplicate his Hambletonian win from a decade and a half earlier? The moments of exhilaration far outweigh any negativity. What’s sleeping outside your sick horses stall for 15 days matter when he gets better and wins his second start back? Riding high is indeed a high in racing like few other businesses. Birthing a world champion? What does a career supermarket worker have to measure up to that? There’s a unity in racing that is all but incomparable. That happens when you’re in the same bunker. That happens when you bring meals for three months to your ailing co-worker who can’t get around at the moment. That happens when you travel 85 of the 92 summer days and you wake up from a nap in the back of the trailer with your absolute favorite sandwich waiting for you. Racing’s lifers are all swimming in the same pond. No lifeguard required. They have each other’s backs.
The last couple of decades in racing there’s been a feeling that we’re all outrunning the tumbleweeds. You want to stay viable and avoid Potters Field, or anything that resembles a discard pile. You definitely don’t want a seat on the boat to irrelevance, and let’s be honest, we do know a few passengers. Human nature seems more in play as the calendar progresses. Are you supposed to not be concerned that your daily check of the obits finds two of every three younger than you are now? We are closer than ever to life’s finish line, but wait, so is everyone.
In racing there is comfort in taking your journey with
a handful of besties. Lifers also. You chose this. Of course, you would like a few more chapters. When you get right down to it every single one of us is a mere blip on a radar screen.
For years, for ever really, the sunset was on the other side of the mountain. Now you can almost touch it. Life comes full circle, or is that cycle? Your love of the sport, the horses, your dedication, your tireless efforts, your 24/7 caring with your horses always coming first, it should be the most satisfying feeling in the world. You did the best you could for the horses. Heaven knows there is an entire hillside full of horses who can attest to that.
