"Kelly" has been a quick learner, believe me. Many girls her age see horses as pets, faithful riding companions, but Kelly's interest went beyond that. She had neatly folded her track program inside a smart blue wallet, and brought a large paper clip to mark her place as Del Mar's card moved along. As the numbers of the first four finishers went up on the tote board, and the payoffs were posted, she dutifully recorded them in her program. She looked like the kind of girl who would have brought a backup pen, had the first one gone dry.
Kelly's other bet was going to be on the Pacific Classic. She volunteered that Temple City, trained by Carla Gaines, was her horse. Because the horse had a win over the track? No, that wasn't it. "A woman has never won the Pacific Classic before," Kelly said. "I think she's going to win today."
I told Kelly that that was only half-right. A female jockey, Julie Krone, rode the winner of the Pacific Classic (Candy Ride, 2003). "Oh," Kelly said. I just know she had committed that to memory as well.
Well, Temple City didn't win, and sweet young Kelly didn't win all of her bets. But by my calculations, she took home more money than what she started with. Her grandparents will be back, and so will she, which is the tonic that racing has so little of. When Alan Balch was the marketing genius at Santa Anita, a long time ago, he grouped fans into three categories: new, occasional and regular. "Our job," Balch said, "is to keep the regulars coming back for more, and upgrade the other two groups over time. Make the new fans into occasional, and the occasional into regular."
It wasn't calculus, but not many tracks gave ear to what Balch said then, and fewer do now. The first personnel cuts sometimes include the marketing department; when Kenny Noe ran Belmont Park, Saratoga and Aqueduct, he said: "Marketing is what my wife does when she goes shopping." Today's tracks are too busy scrambling just to find horses to fill tomorrow's race card. Balch looked to the Los Angeles Dodgers for some of his inspiration, and while baseball and racing are poles apart, there are analogies that can't be ignored. Baseball, like the horses, is played almost every day, and a typical game takes a long time to complete. For starters, the Dodgers aren't a bad model to build on. They draw three million people, more or less, just by opening the gates, but they still prowl the landscape for fresh bodies to put in the seats.
On a number of levels, racing still doesn't get it. The product still costs too much, from the takeout to the concession stands and all points in between. Twenty dollars for valet parking. At Del Mar, directly behind our section, was a popcorn stand, and Kelly's grandparents would have had to pay $3.50 for a cup of popcorn. If you sneezed with it in your hand, it would be all gone. Rita Rudner, the standup, once complained about movie-house concession prices, but she could just as well have been talking about the race track. "You could buy a silo of popcorn for what they charge at the movies," Rudner said. At Del Mar, a silo of popcorn would send Bill Gates to the poorhouse.
After Richard's Kid won the Pacific Classic for the second straight year, we said goodbye to Kelly and her grandparents, and walked out of Del Mar having been humbled at the windows once again. We took the shibboleth, "You can beat a race, but you can't beat the races," to the nth degree. A second box of popcorn would have left us destitute.