SARATOGA SPRINGS, NY, December 16, 2009--In researching a recent Morning Line piece it became necessary to find a list of comparative parimutuel takeout rates. One site, http://www.horseplayersassociation.org, authored a post that praised another well regarded racing web-site, Colins Ghost, for researching a story originally written in 1908.

In part, that story recounted that when the Commonwealth of Kentucky installed a parimutuel system in 1906, the takeout rate was 5 percent. The only place where you can bet into a similar hold these days are head-to-head proposition wagers made at Betfair.

This British-based wagering company is currently in the midst of trying to do in America now what Magna Entertainment and Churchill Downs Inc. have attempted to do over the course of the last two decades; corner the American racing market. Magna, of course, failed miserably.

In any event, a reader commented beneath the HANA story indicating that he was going over to Colins Ghost to check out the takeout story of yesteryear, adding: “And we know racing needs to go ‘retro’ in many areas.”

Before addressing the retro issue, a word about Colin for those of you that might have joined the ranks of American thoroughbred racing fans via the exploits of Rachel Alexandra and Zenyatta:

Colin was in racetrack parlance “a freak,” extremely high praise in racing circles. He had such a badly curbed hock--a condition that leads to faulty action and, eventually, worse--that many believed he might not make it to the races. But make it, he did.

Legendary Hall of Fame trainer James Rowe Sr. worked with him and eventually the colt made his first start in May of 1907, the year after Kentucky initiated pari-mutuels. As the 6-5 favorite, the well bred maiden won his debut over 23 rivals. Three days later he won the National Stallion Stakes in track record time.


Now either he was the gamest horse who ever lived, or the story becomes completely apocryphal at this point. But four days later after the National Stallion, he won the Eclipse Stakes in the slop with bucked shins carrying 125 pounds.

Subsequently, he was freshened 24 days and won the Great Trial Stakes easily under 129. His swollen hock was being well managed by Rowe but he needed to overcome a cough to win the Saratoga Special later that summer. After his cough cleared up he won the Grand Union Hotel Stakes four days later.

“His defeat in the Grand Union would have been looked upon in Saratoga as a public calamity,” wrote “The Thoroughbred Record.” When Colin returned downstate, 50,000 fans showed up at Sheepshead Bay to see him win the Futurity in record time.

He won four more stakes races as a juvenile: the Flatbush, Brighton Produce, the colt division of the Matron Stakes, and the seven furlong Champagne setting another record. Prior to Champagne, The Thoroughbred Record stated "the more one sees of him, the more firm is the conviction that he is the best horse ever bred in America, or ever raced here."

At 3, Colin won the Withers, Belmont and Tidal Stakes, was sent to England to race, but injured himself in a workout and retired an undefeated winner of 15 career starts. Inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1956, Bloodhorse magazine ranked Colin at #15 on the list of America’s Top 100 Horses of the 20th Century.

Speed and stamina both. Hard to imagine I know, but that’s how it was back in the day. Can you imagine sending a horse into the auction ring with a curbed hock these days, much less have him purchased at all?

Several times this past year, blessed by the presence of two great fillies but cursed by the perception that thoroughbred racing has devolved into an anachronistic pastime, concerned fans approached me and asked: “When did racing begin to slip?”

Without hesitation I said “the day tracks decided to relax the dress codes in the clubhouse.”

Exaggerated nonsense? Perhaps. But going racing died a little that day because going to the racetrack became a little less special, a little less important.

Perception is reality. Everyone knows self-esteem rises when you look your best. And this has nothing to do with social climbing, never my game, nor does it have to do with being elitist. Well, maybe a little.

For me, that day was like Lou Pascal saying how gambling now was “so goddam legal” as he walked the “Atlantic City” boardwalk, probably for about the ten-thousandth time, before peering out over the Atlantic and lamenting: “you should have seen the ocean in those days.”

Louis Malle’s anti-hero in the 1980 latter-day noir film knew the difference, realizing just what the modern gambling scene lacks: Style. “Floy-floy,” Burt Lancaster’s character called it.

So, what has racing to lose? It already has lost market share. Maybe by bringing dress codes back, attendees will have a little spring in their step when they attend the races. Because that’s what experiencing a day at the races was like, and can be again, especially those making the scene for the first time.

Big-market tracks from New York to Miami to Chicago to Los Angeles used to be cool places to spend an afternoon. There’s no reason why they can’t be again. Then, who knows? Maybe breeders will infuse stamina back into pedigrees--a possible positive by-product of synthetic-surface racing--in search of the next Colin.

If racing’s destiny is to become little more than an upscale, niche pastime, it should look and feel like one when you enter the clubhouse gates. There’s still the grandstand for the tee-shirt crowd, and a place for families to gather.

And if it’s only convenience that interests modern fans, they can stay at home, bet on their computers and watch the races in their underwear. The consensus is that only technology that will save and grow the game. But why not something for everyone? What is there to lose?

The industry says it’s considering new business models and wants to re-brand racing as something special. Then it should make it racetracks special places to go again, attracting the kind of clientele that cares about the way they and the people around them look. Like begets like.

The racetrack was a place to see and be seen, real horse racing fans with a few discretionary bucks in their pockets, beyond the turf club types and the corporate suits ensconced in luxury boxes.

Who knows? Upscale fans might even bet on a few winners. And they’ll already be dressed to go out for dinner. Sounds like a nice way to spend a weekend afternoon.

And for those New York sports who might be reading this, when you drive across the Hudson on your way to Monmouth Park, be sure to tip the toll booth attendant on the New Jersey Turnpike.