Celebrating Unsung Racetracks

I have, by my count, visited 67 different thoroughbred, quarter-horse, or standardbred racetracks, from Bay Meadows to the Meadowlands, Belmont to Beulah, Churchill Downs to Charles Town, and Del Mar to Delaware (County Fair or Park). One thing I have noticed in my travels is that every track has its own distinct character.

Aqueduct Racetrack, in my opinion, provides the most authentic old-time New York sports experience available today, with a multicultural crowd, New York accents permeating the air, and spectators who are not reluctant to use colorful language to express their opinion of a jockey’s performance. Keeneland has a festive atmosphere that is strongly influenced by the presence of University of Kentucky students and members of the breeding community. Santa Anita patrons can squint while looking at the art deco-influenced surroundings and pretend that it’s 1938 again. 

I can think positive traits for (almost) every track I have visited, but only a small number of elite tracks regularly receive recognition from racing media and fans. In the spirit of McChump, I am going to use this platform to show some love tracks that usually do not get much recognition.

Ferndale: Ferndale is located in Northern California’s redwood country and is part of a Victorian village (2010 population of 1,371) that fully embraces the fair and race meet. It has a half-mile track with flat banking and provides adventures such as 660-yard mule races around a turn and the 1 ⅝-mile C. J. Hindley Humboldt County Marathon Handicap, the traditional season finale in which the horses cross the finish line four times. 

Charles Town: I twice attended Charles Town when I was living in the greater New York metropolitan area, and the drive from sprawling urbia, across the Mason-Dixon Line, through the Blue Ridge Mountains and Harper’s Ferry, and into the Shenandoah Valley made the journey feel so much larger in scope than it’s 4 ½-hour driving time would suggest. With the action up close on the six-furlong track and the mountains serving as backdrop, Charles Town provides a memorable railbird experience. 

Topsham Fair: Although the Fryeburg Fair is seen as the crown jewel of the Maine fair circuit, I am going to write about the Topsham Fair, which, in non-COVID years, conducts a brief harness meet in early August when thoroughbred racing is dominated Saratoga and Del Mar and the harness world is focused on the Hambletonian. The track usually conducts five days of racing, with two cards held before the fair itself begins. There is no admission charge on these racing-only days, so that’s when I, a degenerate who prefers trifectas to tilt-a-whirls, have made the trip to Topsham.

A driving finish at Topsham. Ayuh!

The track has a small, open-air wooden grandstand. Enclosed under the grandstand seats is a museum that feels like a cross between an antique shop and your great aunt’s attic. The infield is open to the public, and I have long awarded emotional bonus points to tracks with open infields because they take me back to when I was a kid and I would watch races from the Bay Meadows infield with my father. Seating in the infield consists of metal bleachers and surplus school desks randomly scattered near the infield mutuel windows. For whatever reason, approximately half of the desks are left-handed desks, and as a lefty I appreciate this rare situation where the situation favors southpaws. The track announcer, Lloyd Johnson, adds some local flavor by punctuating his calls of close stretch battles with “Ayuh!.”

Taking advantage of one of the many left-handed desks.

From a betting standpoint, Topsham might be the track where I have my best lifetime ROI from a pure percentage standpoint. You will not make a life-changing score at Topsham because the pools are small (for a typical race, there is maybe $500 in the win pool, $1,000 in the exacta pool, and $2,000 in the trifecta pool) and the races are, well, formful, but I appreciate the opportunity to avoid computer robotic wagering syndicates and instead compete against a crowd that is less sophisticated in their methods. Grinding out a $50 profit by leaning on chalk in exactas, quinellas, and trifectas doesn’t make for a thrilling betting story, but I appreciate how tracks like Topsham provide the opportunity for a small-time horseplayer like myself to be the smart money and not a minnow to be swallowed by the whales.

"Eye in the Sky" Lloyd Johnson

I wanted to learn about the less-heralded tracks other people cherish, so I reached out to some of my peers and asked for their thoughts. 

Peter Aiello, track announcer at Gulfstream Park

Rillito Park: You often hear the cliche "horse racing the way it should be.” But what does that mean? Well, the truth is, it means something different to everybody. For me, the best kind of horse racing is the type done, to borrow a movie title, "For The Love of the Game". 

 

If you want to experience horse racing with these ideals in mind, you MUST make a trip to Rillito Park in Tucson, Arizona. Nestled in the Sonoran Mountains with a view that rivals the picturesque "backside shot" of Santa Anita Park, Rillito Park is a track steeped in history. Recognized as the birthplace of modern American Quarter Horse Racing, nothing about the facility, the horses or the horsemen is flashy. But therein lies part of the charm. 

 

In an era where tracks struggle for on-track attendance, Rillito Park doesn't have that problem. In an era where most tracks no longer charge for admission, you still have to pay to get in the gate at Rillito. But pay they do. Thousands pack the rickety grandstand during weekends in the winter, all looking for an entertaining afternoon at the races. The horses are a combination of "has beens" and "never wases,” with many of them racing for claiming prices under $5,000. 

 

The jockeys are perhaps the most eclectic part of the Rillito Park experience. From Don French, whose long grey beard rivals ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons to Mackenzie King, a talented young lady looking to launch her career to the next level, no two riders are the same. 

 

Once the races begin, the apron is packed 10 deep and one can’t help but notice the diversity. All ages, all ethnicities, men and women alike, all excited to cheer their favorites. The fans at Rillito cheer the winning horses but also clap and cheer for the efforts of the losing horses. The atmosphere is hard to pinpoint but it is a mixture and fun and excited. The beers are cold, the mariachi band plays between races, and the vibe can best be described as "Distinctly Tucson". Everyone enjoys themselves, but few for same reason. The common thread behind it all? A love and appreciation for the great sport of horse racing. 

 

At Rillito Park, the participants top to bottom grind out a living. But their passion for the game never wavers. Egos are checked at the door, people pull double duty if need be. The influx of RTIP students into the operations (thanks to the PariBets student experience program) only serves to mirror what is taking place on the track: the next generation is trying to springboard to the next level while learning from a generation whose best years are behind them. What the all have in common is what makes the Rillito Park experience one of a kind: A Love of the Game! 

 

John Scheinman, two-time Eclipse Award-winning writer

Timonium/Maryland State Fair: By the time I came to Maryland, the old fair circuit was all but gone. I did manage to catch a few dying days at Marlboro, a five-eighths track in Prince George's County, but the consolidation of thoroughbred racing in the state had neared completion, and soon even Bowie, the state's winter track, would pass into history, as well. Through management and the community's determination, foresight, wisdom and ingenuity, racing at Timonium, the Maryland State Fair track, has persisted ‒ with breaks for World War II and such ‒ since the late 1800s.

 

How old is Timonium? Results used to be sent to as far away as Virginia by carrier pigeon. There have been some updates, like the gussied-up second-floor restaurant, but the place remains a time machine.

 

When you attend Timonium's eight-day meet in the heart of summer, it could be 1955 or 2020. First-timers stand blinking incredulously at the tote board in the grandstand that looks like its from the dawn of electric light. From the vantage point of York Road, for most of the year, the structure looks like an eerie, abandoned ruin, but for a brief run in August the joint springs to life.

The racing coincides with the fair, so the atmosphere mixes the hum of excitement with a languidness gifted by summer heat. A Ferris wheel twirls in the background. The din of the midway becomes a kind of white noise. The track is so tiny, jockeys can hear you cursing them on the backstretch. The paddock is just a pen. To reach their perch, the stewards must climb a metal staircase that looks like a fire escape. The motley cross-section of outfits that show up to race often are competitive.

 

Timonium doesn't cater to kings; it is unabashedly plebian. It doesn't believe in the necessity of anything other than a hamburger, a beer, a program and itself. Its focus is on the horses and which one is fastest, an approach so organic, so elemental and so right that for a brief stretch of days you can convince yourself that racing there needs to go on forever.