I Am Horseracing

Read this if you can bear to ....

"...but they lead me in, a tag is pasted on my hip as I pass through the doorway. The aisle is lined with stalls. There are several horses, large and small, old and young in each stall. Hundreds of stalls line the dimly lit aisle way, some of the horses are fat and sassy, some had missed many a meal and didn't look as if they had ever seem a curry comb. As I follow the man who holds my leadline, I crane my neck to see those in each stall. Each horse or pony had a different look to them, some were resigned to their surroundings and others had expressions of apprehension or dismay, still others looked around with interest at their surroundings. I'm scared, where is my owner and my clean quiet stall and green paddock? The building is hot, the putrid stench of the manure rising in waves and filling my lungs with the rank fumes. Flies feast on the enclosed horses, some of them have open wounds which seethe with a life of their own from the flies which crawl across their surfaces. I see two horses who are down, flat out on the ground and not seeming to care that their stall mates bump them or step on them as they mill around in the small enclosure.The man leading me roughly shoves me into a stall with 4 other horses. The big black gelding aims a nip and I duck for cover behind the kind looking mare. She looks at me with the eyes of time and gently nudges me behind her, where I gratefully cower. The barn reeks from the odor of manure and fear, loud speakers blare over head with a man shouting something and then SOLD followed by quiet for a moment until the drone of his voice starts again. Horses and ponies are run up the aisle to our right and soon come back downthe aisle on the left, nostrils flared and eyes white with horror.Before long it is our turn, the gate to the right side of the stallopens and we are prodded down the aisle, which narrows to a chute. I struggle to keep up with the others as we are lashed from behind by the people who shout and whip us on. The black gelding enters the enclosure at the end of the chute first and the gate slams in our faces to block us from following, and I press firmly to the side of the sorrel mare who is slightly in front of me. Soon the gate opens again and I rush through beside the mare, frantically evading the man who trys to block my passage. There is a small ring before us, people are peering down at us from the heights above. Rows upon rows of them, their faces blending together and the sound of their voices being drowned out by the same voice I had heard before. OK, lets sell the mare first the voice rings out and before long a BANG!!!! and SOLD! cuts through the clamor of the crowd as the mare is separated from me by a huge mean looking man who brandishes a whip in my face. I try to keep up, but she is forced out of the gate on the other side of the ring and I am alone, ALONE, for the first time in my life! How much am I bid on this colt? the voice rings out fromover head. Six months old, fine little fella, lets start at $100.00? I stand with my legs spread, trembling with fear. A man comes toward me and I clack my teeth at him, but he hits me anyway so I run, and run and run and run until I sprawl in the filthy mess covering the slick flooring of the ring. I manage to get to my feet as the SOLD to R.C." rings out from the loud speakers. The gate the mare left through is opened and I rush through, frantic to find her. There she is!!! I rush to join her and she nuzzles me and I press against her. We are in a big pen now, dozens of horses wheel around and others are being added. I try to nurse and the mare reminds me with a gentle nip that she is not my mom. Soon those men are back again. This time they herd us into a long narrow trailer. OUCH, that hurts! I am slammed into the trailer wall by the weight of the larger horses, each scrambling for footing on the metal floor. Frantic neighs ring out, echoing back and forth across the limited space. The mare falls under the weight of a large bay but she rightens herself and I manage to get beside her again, Her side is smeared with blood, a gash is open down her side and the burgundy flood oozes from the wound and drips to the floor adding to the slippery mess underfoot. I see wounds on several of the horses and ponies, one gray is standing balanced on three legs, the fourth hanging limply at a weird angle. I stand trembling beside the mare as the trailer lurches forward, her blood mingling with the sweat and stale urine on my side. For hours we ride, I am cold, hungry and torturously thirsty but the ride goes on and on. Some of the horses fall, not to rise again, the others stamping on them as they try to keep their footing in the swaying trailer. My mare sags beside me, her head low to the floor ofthe trailer, and her eyes half shut. I want to lay down, but I don't dare for fear of being crushed. The heat of the day slowly gives way to the coolness of evening, but this too is a short respite for soon it is bitterly cold in the wind swept trailer. The lights of passing cars are a monotonous flash across the ceiling of the compartment and finally the trailer grinds to a halt.We are in front of what looks like another barn, but it doesn't smell right. Smells like blood. LOTS of blood ..... and fear. The trailer edges back, finally stopping as it presses into the back of the building and it is suddenly quiet except for the sounds coming from the building. A rapid, frantic neighing mingles with a strange muffled whine. I haven't even the strength to be afraid so I stand miserably next to the mare, trying to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. The gate at the rear of the trailer opens and a hand with a stick comes from between the slats and the horse it touches bolts forward, exiting the trailer with a huge leap. One by one the horses in front of me are forced forward, soon the stick comes down on my back with pain coming out of it's end so severe I jolt into action. Lurching forward, I almost pass the sorrel mare, but the stick shocks her forward too and soon we are rushing through the chute and entering the building. The smell is worse in here, horses try to plunge to a halt and turnback, some falling in the process and being trampled by those behind. A pinto pony falls in front of us and the sorrel mare and I do our best to avoid falling with him as we clamber over his thrashing body.The neighing of the horses has become a constant scream, punctuated by a "THWACKING" sound from behind the gate in front of us. The press of the horses against me is overwhelming, I can't breathe except to pant in the horrible air drenched in the odor of fear and blood. The press from the horses behind moves us steadily forward.I can't see over the side of the chute, but it must be really bad,because my sorrel mare begins to try to thrash backwards, forgetting me completely in her panic to get away.... The press of the horses behind is too great and she fails to escape, but my right eye is smashed by her hoof and the pain tears through me as my eye explodes from the blow. The pain is unbearable, I fall to my knees but manageto regain my legs before being trampled to the ground.A small gate opens in front of us and another shock is administered to the bay in front of my mare and he pitches forward, the gate slamming shut behind him. Before that gate closed I see the interiorof a small stall, covered with blood, urine and manure. And something else? I think it was a horse hanging upside down? Can't see too good, my only eye has blood pooling in it from the side of the sorrel mare. Just as the horses pressing behind me threaten to take me to the ground the gate opens again and my mare is shocked through, I try to follow again but the gate slams shut in my face. Neighing and calling to her I pitch myself against the gate, to no avail. She answers me, I can hear her above the screams from the other horses, but her neigh is cut off in mid voice and I hear her no more.... Then the gate opens again and I see her, hanging from a hindleg, her throat a fountain of blood and her eyes glazed over as she swings off to one side. Rearing toward her I feel some thing smash into my head, stunned I fall to the soiled bottom of the stall. In a stupor I feel myself being lifted, higher and higher as my headswings below me and then a sharp pain... in my throat... I can't see anymore, don't know where my mare is... it hurts...slowly a peace seeps into me......"

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

I Am Horseracing

Updated: Jan. 1, 2007, 9:48 PM ET

By Bill FinleySpecial to ESPN.comArchive

I am horse racing and these are my New Year's resolutions:
I will finally get serious about the problem of illegal drugs, something, shamefully, I have never done. I will implement a detention barn system, where the horses must be under lock and key for at least 24 hours prior to post time, for every Grade I race. I will find a way to come up with the money the industry needs to bring its drug detection methods into the 21st century. I will stop handing out meaningless 30 or 60-day suspensions to trainers, whose stables, run by assistants, chug right along uninterrupted. I will watch and learn from what they are doing in Ontario, a place that is showing the way when it comes to going after the cheats.
I will also go after the widespread use of legal drugs, which has gotten way out of hand. Virtually every horse that races today runs on Lasix, yet horses are more brittle and run less often than ever. There has to be a connection here. The sport was far better off before all these drugs were legalized. I will start by barring Lasix in all 2-year-old races and all graded stakes races, the first steps toward a total ban.
I will stop burying my head in the sand when it comes to the issue of horse slaughter. I have the clout and the money to put an end to this reprehensible practice. I am truly ashamed that I have allowed thousands of retired race horses to perish in this grisly manner each year and I will do something about it. For an industry that generates $14 billion a year in business, there shouldn't be any problem coming up with the money to make this happen. I'm going to stop pretending this isn't a serious problem.
While I will continue to pursue slot machines because they represent easy money, I will not put all my eggs in their basket. Besides increasing purses, slot machines do nothing for the sport and they don't create new racing fans. I will be more creative than I have ever been in my marketing efforts and I will succeed in convincing people that horse racing is a beautiful sport that is also the most intellectually stimulating gambling game there is. I will not get lazy just because everyone is making a few bucks off the slots.
I will increase the purses of the Preakness and Belmont to $2 million each. That two of my three biggest races have a purse equal to that of the Delta Downs Jackpot is something I will no longer tolerate.
Speaking of the Triple Crown, I will not so much as listen to anyone who insists the set up of the series needs to be changed.
I will get all the big shots into the same room and I won't let them out until there is a resolution or a compromise that solves the account wagering mess. The Internet and television are the keys to growing this industry, yet we have managed to make a mess of all this. I understand that I can only turn off players by making them watch two different racing channels and having at least two betting accounts in order to play all the major tracks. This foolishness will stop.
I will order that every racetrack that has a slots room also have a mutuel window in that area, television screens showing the races and, whenever possible, an unobstructed view of the racetrack. I've had it with racino managements who do everything possible to keep the slot players from even knowing that horse racing is going on somewhere else on the premises.
I will no longer require that Eclipse Award ballots be in before the year is actually over. What's the rush? What have I been thinking? I dodged a bullet when Balance didn't win the Grade I La Brea Dec. 30. That would have made her a serious candidate for the 3-year-old filly championship, yet the race, as far as the Eclipse Awards go, wouldn't have mattered. I need to be more patient.
Happy New Year.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...: I loved this article!
Thanks for doing this for Michigan!
Barb AZ; January 4, 2007 at 9:23 PM
WMCLSS said...: Hi, Dawn, Thank you so much for writing your article. GREAT website and some time when I can will look more carefully through it. Busy with overrun on articles but did get your pic of Joe and you in there with a bio bit added honoring Barbaro ... Check it out at www.Barbarocampaignnews.com in the DC Horse Whispers sidelink near upper left section/side. Hop you like it. You and Joe look perfect together. So happy to have you aboard!!! Bill, Cl, J, G, Thor, and Darla, with Bobby in spirit.; February 11, 2007 at 1:45 PM