I donât monitor Rhodenâs work. Equidaily.com does keep a close eye on him and The Times, which has dredged up every piece of negative news it could uncover about racing, even if it had to travel to off-the-beaten-track bullrings in the Southwest to find it. The headline on Equidailyâs summary of the piece is telling: âNY Timesâ # 2 racing gadfly Rhoden takes his annual shot at racing.â
Among other things, Rhoden opines, âThe racing industry is trudging toward an uncertain future.â As opposed to what? The newspaper industry?
Given the thrust of the piece, itâs not surprising it would appear in The Times, a champion of large, centralized government. Rhoden writes, âThe industry must appoint a single leadership figure to standardize rules and regulations covering every facet of the industry.â
From where would this messiah come? The Wizard of Oz and Merlin, who could magically wave a wand and make things happen, arenât available.
Practically speaking, it would have to be someone from racetrack management. More significantly, he would have to be paid by racetracks directly or by gouging fans with another bite in the takeout. The latter would almost certainly require legislative approval from every racing jurisdiction. Good luck with that. Thank goodness.
In either case, this czar would be beholden to track owners.
Letâs take a look at how this approach has worked in other sports. The most frequently mentioned problem by racingâs detractors is performance enhancing drugs. Baseball has had an omnipotent commissioner for a century. The specter of Bud Selig's authority didnât deter Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and a multitude of other steroid-fueled players from making a mockery of the sport-- just like some thoroughbred trainers are doing.
Selig looked the other way because he felt the barrage of drug assisted offense was good for the game; i.e., the owners.
The NFL has the most powerful commissioner in sports. Yet it looked the other way for years at steroid and amphetamine abuse. Same reason: Fans love those big hits by players with super-human physiques.
How many times did you hear commentators casually remark, âHe got his bell rung.â Only recently has it been conceded that this translates to the likelihood of a concussion, which leads to premature dementia and death.
The lifespan of an NFL player is something like 12 years less than the average American. The NFL and its strong commissioner didnât bother to deal with this reality until it was confronted by what could turn into a gazillion dollar lawsuit from former players.
What about concern for fans?
Selig has presided over the most fan-unfriendly developments in the history of baseball. You can buy tickets to take the family to a Sunday afternoon game only to be told it has been moved to Sunday night for TV. Instead of getting home for dinner, the final pitch will be thrown around midnight. This makes the ETA for arriving home before the start of a new school and work week an hour with a small number.
All that matters is, thanks to Selig, itâs ever onward and upward for the TV revenue owners cut up.
Football is only slightly better. Consider the ramifications of the celebrated Snow Bowl, the playoff game between Oakland and New England played in a blizzard on Jan. 19, 2002.
The calendar dictates that playoff games fall in the dead of winter. So the NFL canât be blamed for what happened that Saturday night. But what has happened since is unconscionable.
Until then, the NFL did its best to schedule late season prime-time games in warmer weather cities or those with domed stadiums. Once the Snow Bowl racked up record TV ratings, this philosophy was spun 180 degrees.
Now the league goes out of its way to schedule December and January prime-time games in places like Green Bay, Chicago and New England, in the hope it can re-create the Snow Bowl ratings magic. So what if this puts the fans in the stands in danger of frostbite, pneumonia or a heart attack trying to shovel out their car after the final gun, then driving home in treacherous conditions.
The NFL doesnât even respect its most important games enough to stage them under the most advantageous competitive conditions possible. The first round of the playoffs last season had a couple of wild card games on Saturday. One was in Houston, the other in Green Bay. The NFL designated the latter for prime time, all the better for the possibility of another winter wonderland. The higher the ratings, the more the NFL can demand when its TV contract comes up for renewal.
Two weeks later, the two conference championships were played the same day. One was in Atlanta with its domed stadium. That was made the early game. The other was after dark outdoors in New England.
This coming February, the Super Bowl will be played outdoors at the Meadowlands. The conditions could be so brutal, the league has made contingency plans to move to an alternate date in case the Metropolitan area is shut down by a major storm.
With enhanced security, fans will be asked to be in their seats as much as three hours before kickoff. Throw in the extended halftime show and they could be sitting in arctic conditions for as much as seven hours.
Is this being done to give fans in the nationâs largest market a chance to see sports biggest event? Of course not. The average person has no shot at a ticket. Itâs a gift to the owners of the Jets and Giants for building a new billion dollar stadium. Those owners will be sitting in heated skyboxes, blissfully liberated from the pain and suffering of the freezing masses in the stands.
You can thank a powerful commissioner for that.
The Breeders Cup, one of the best things to happen to racing, tried to take a leadership position in cleaning up the drugs mess by issuing a phased-in edict that Lasix would not be permitted in the championship races.
This effort or the Breedersâ Cup will die after this year because horsemenâs organizations have indicated they will not grant simulcast rights if the ban on Lasix isnât lifted.
A strong central figure to restore racing to prominence is a warm fuzzy thought but one that works only in the minds of those in the Ivory Tower of The New York Times.