Reflections from the final day of racing at Bay Meadows Racecourse, August 17, 2008
Twelve years ago, I put my past performances and some snacks in my backpack, walked a half mile to the Sunnyvale train station, and rode a northbound train to Bay Meadows Racecourse for the final time.
With each passing year, my memories of the final day of racing at Bay Meadows become more impressionistic as the details gradually fade. To mark the 12th anniversary of Bay Meadows’ last day, I decided to chronicle some of my memories before they escape my mind forever.
Bay Meadows was a place where I bonded with my father as a child, decided on my future career when I was an adolescent, and worked part time in a customer service role earlier in 2008 while I waited for a full-time writing position to become available to me. By mid August 2008, I had been working for the Thoroughbred Daily News in New Jersey for a month and a half, and I was making my first trip back to California so I could attend the final three days of racing at Bay Meadows.
I decided to use my family’s Sony Handycam, which by 2008 was already approaching obsolescence, to record footage from these three final days and to upload videos to YouTube. Because I had to rush to edit and upload the videos and as a result made a few errors in the process, I was hoping to one day make a more polished director’s cut that did not have to adhere to YouTube’s then 10-minute time limit, but my parents purged my mini cassette tapes with racing footage from 2002-03 and 2008, so what’s on YouTube today is all that I have left.
I am going to share some recollections from the final day, Sunday, August 17, 2008. I admit that 12 years later it is difficult for me to separate what I truly remember from things I remember only because I have rewatched the videos, which I have embedded at various points in this post.
I took an early train so I could shoot footage of horses training, the track kitchen serving breakfast, and employees making preparations for the anticipated large crowd. At this point, it had seemed like any other race day, except for the part when I recorded a snippet of Sam Spear’s melancholic interview with a local newspaper reporter. Spear, a Northern California racing media icon, summarized the situation succinctly by describing how rumors of the track’s impending demise had been floating around since the mid 1990s and how after years of speculation, management changes, and reprieves that we had “finally come to the actual reality that today is the last day for the track that had opened on November 3, 1934.” Bay Meadows was seldom covered by the national racing media, but Daily Racing Form columnist Jay Hovdey was onsite, and I took video of him interviewing one of my favorite horsemen, the soft-spoken veteran Dennis Patterson in the trainer’s office.
The admission gates opened at 10 a.m and the first patrons began to stream in. The numerous standard-definition television monitors began showing races from eastern tracks like Woodbine, Fort Erie and Saratoga Race Course. By the time live racing started at 1:45 p.m., the crowd had grown to the point where it became difficult for me to roam freely and find locations where I had a clear view of the track to shoot races.
The official attendance was somewhere around 10,000, comparable to Memorial Day, Labor Day, and Triple Crown race days but large compared to a typical Saturday. Unfortunately, it was the fact that the track was about to be swallowed by a bourgeois suburban development and not a Northern California racing renaissance that had drawn a large crowd that harkened back to the old days and generated extensive local media coverage.
The two dominant figures in Northern California racing, jockey Russell Baze and trainer Jerry Hollendorfer, were notable absentees, with Baze riding at Emerald Downs (where he rode Lemon Kiss to victory in the Emerald Distaff Handicap and finished 11th aboard Southern Africa in the Longacres Mile) and Hollendorfer, I assume, remaining at Del Mar to oversee his string at the seaside oval.
At some point, my father, brother, aunt, uncle, and cousins arrived at the track, but I did not spend much time with them because I was so intent on taking video. A friend of mine from college who was driving from Sacramento back to her home in Arizona made a brief visit to see Bay Meadows for the first and last time, and I briefly took my friend to the stable area in the infield and the press box before she continued her journey.
Without the benefit of Equibase charts and my video, there is not much I would be able to remember about the actual races. Had it been a typical race day, it would have been an unremarkable card, with no future stars, double-digit-length victories, riding triples, track records, or six-figure payouts. I believe I lost about $30 playing the races that day, but at least I could say I cashed the final wager I made at Bay Meadows, a trifecta play on the C.J. Hindley Humboldt County Marathon Starter Handicap via simulcast from Ferndale.
One Bay Meadows race that did stand out was Gherig’s victory in race 6, a maiden special weight on turf for 3-year-olds and up, as the gelding was carrying the flame orange colors of the estate of Harry Aleo, a San Francisco native who could recall watching Seabiscuit win the 1938 Bay Meadows Handicap. Aleo, known on the national racing scene as the owner of 2005 champion sprinter Lost in the Fog, had died in June at the age of 88, just five weeks after his mare Wild Promises won the Mother’s Day Handicap, the final stakes of the Bay Meadows winter/spring meet.
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| The start of race 6, won by Gherig |
I can’t speak for others, but the historical and emotional magnitude of the day did not sink in for me until there were about 22 minutes before the 10th and final race, the $50,000 added Last Dance Stakes for 3-year-old fillies at 1 1/16 miles on the Longden turf course. The weather had been fair earlier in the day, but by 6 p.m. the 64-degree temperature and shadows from the grandstand covering the main track’s final sixteenth of a mile making it clear that both the day and summer were inexorably coming to an end.
Immediately after the conclusion of race 9, I power walked to the indoor paddock to secure myself a good position to shoot footage of horses being saddled for the finale, which would feature six runners, three locals and three Southern California-based interests.
I was one of the first spectators to arrive at the paddock and I claimed a spot on the tiered pink steps on the clubhouse side near the paddock camera. The horses and most of their accompanying horsemen had not arrived, but I distinctly remember seeing a solitary man standing in stall #1 as he awaited My Maloof Rocker, whom he would be saddling on behalf of Southern California-based trainer Adam Kitchingman. The man, whose name I still do not know, clasped his hands behind his back and maintained a blank expression as he stared in the direction of the middle of the paddock. I noticed him and thought, “This man seems to be sad that this is the last time he will be saddling a horse at Bay Meadows.” Then I thought, “Wait, this really is the end,” realizing that I had never paused to reflect myself during the three previous as I scurried around to take video and say hello and goodbye to friends.
Using one of the small television monitors used by the paddock operator, I watched Trato win the Humboldt County Marathon for trainer Armando Lage, and I made a quick decision to leave the paddock and see if I could find Lage at his customary spot at the clubhouse bar and see if he could inject some levity by providing quip about winning the quirky 1 ⅝-mile race. The trainer delivered.
“We’re going to Ascot or Longchamp!” the trainer declared.
“Breeders’ Cup Marathon!” I countered.
“Nah, that’s too short for us!”
I went outside to shoot video riders receiving a leg up for the Last Dance, not-so-politely squeezing myself between people to have a clear shot of the walking ring. Bugler David Hardiman prefaced the call to the post with Auld Lang Syne. After stepping onto the track, all six fillies and their riders faced the crowd as Hardiman played Taps.
To shoot the last race, I joined my father on the balcony outside the clubhouse dining room, which had been his favorite location to watch the races until he made an almost complete transition to betting exclusively at home via YouBet.com. I had spent very little time with my father during the day, but we were going to watch the last race together. He wagered on My Maloof Rocker, but I did not make any bets besides placing $2 on every horse to guarantee I would have a souvenir ticket on Bay Meadows’ final winner.
The crowd roared as starter Chuck Burkes dispatched the field at 6:34 p.m, sustaining a constant hum of cheers, whistles, and shouts as the field passed the grandstand, traveled around the clubhouse turn, continued up the backstretch, and entered the final turn. Meanwhile, I was internally repeating to myself “Don’t mess this up!” as I tried to keep a steady hold on the camcorder and keep the horses at the center of my shot.
At the top of the stretch, You Lift Me Up overtook the pacesetter Tiz Madison as Joyful Me and My Maloof Rocker attempted to rally. Jockey Frank Alvarado shook the reins and went to the left-handed whip aboard You Lift Me Up as my father, in vain, let out a loud and guttural “C’mon #1!” as My Maloof Rocker failed to gain on the leader. At the finish, it was You Lift Me Up, who had raced for claiming prices as low as $25,000 earlier in her career, securing her place in history as the 2 ½-length winner of the Last Dance Stakes, ahead of Joyful Me, My Maloof Rocker, favored Sensational Love, Shake It Off, and Tiz Madison.
I dashed from the balcony to get footage of You Lift Me Up and Frank Alvarado entering the winner’s circle accompanied by Hollendorfer’s assistant Jacob Aguilar, You Lift Me Up being led to the test barn by her groom, and the chart callers working on the chart of the final race. At some point I remember standing on the grandstand track apron as “Thanks for the Memory” sung by Bob Hope and Shirley Ross played over the public address system as spectators lingered, conversing in small groups or standing in isolated silence, their lack of motion betraying their lack of desire to admit that the last day of racing at Bay Meadows had indeed concluded.
I eventually reunited with my family, taking a cheeky photo with my brother and cousins in front of a sign with the number of a gambling addiction hotline. I remember nothing else from that evening, such as how I got home (whether I took the train or caught a ride from a family member) or what I had for dinner, but I probably worked well into the night reviewing and editing footage.
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| Tapped out one last time |
I considered making a return trip to Bay Meadows the following day as it was open for a final day of simulcasting from Saratoga, Del Mar, and other tracks that were conducting Monday racing, but I decided that one “farewell” was sufficient, instead opting to work on my videos and briefly visit with a friend from high school.
On Tuesday morning, I woke up around 5 a.m., made some final tweaks to my videos, uploaded them to YouTube, and had my mother drive me to the San Francisco International Airport so I could return to my job at the publication whose lone mention of Bay Meadows’ final race was including a chart among other stakes results on page 15 of 18 of the August 19 edition of the newsletter. To many, the closure of Bay Meadows was just a footnote that summer compared to Big Brown’s Haskell victory, Zenyatta extending her winning streak to seven in the Clement L. Hirsch, and Colonel John getting the bob-of-all-bobs to nose out Mambo In Seattle in the Travers, but for those of us with Northern California ties it was the season’s emotional climax.
Looking back, I am glad that I decided to spend the final three days of racing pretending to be a documentarian as it provided me and others with footage we can rewatch for years to come. It also allowed me to focus on the shots I wanted instead of passively watching each race bring the track a little closer to the wrecking ball. Still, I wonder if my frenetic pace prevented me from truly observing, absorbing, and processing the sights, sounds, and smells from that final day and that I never allowed myself to fully mourn the loss of Bay Meadows.
I reached out to two of my friends who worked at Bay Meadows that final day, and they were kind enough to take time out of their busy schedules to share some of their recollections.
Steve Martinelli, placing judge at Bay Meadows and current assistant racing secretary at Golden Gate Fields:
My last day at Bay Meadows consisted of taking entries in the morning for a “Double-Header” card for the first week of Cal Expo, which was beginning its meet the following week under the watchful eye of Racing Secretary Tom “Bomber” Doutrich. In the afternoon I would take up my familiar position high up on the roof in the placing stand with veteran official C. Gregory Brent. The morning duties went pretty slowly. We could not fill two cards for the Double Header so we drew one card for that day at Sacramento. Once the draw was over I was on my way to the roof and through the mass of people that had congregated on the grandstand apron.
Each race that ran that day it seemed as if the crowd noise got louder and louder until the last event, the Last Dance Stakes. The feel up on the roof was almost like any other day. I thought it would be different but it really had an “everyday” feel to it. The stewards next door and my placing partner gave no hint that today was any different than any other raceday. It had to be different downstairs, though.
As the Last Dance Stakes horses entered the paddock for the last race to ever be run at the San Mateo track I excused myself from the placing stand and went out onto the roof. It was late in the day and it was overcast. Somewhat atypical for a San Mateo day in August. My mood was somber as I looked out from my high atop the roof vantage point at the parking lot full of cars. Standing there for a good 10 minutes all alone peering out over the parking lot thoughts of all those days I spent during college going to the races and the many days of my childhood attending the races with my dad or other family members. I remembered all my favorite horses I saw run – horses like Lost in the Fog, Cavonnier, Tabasco Cat, Big Jag, Event of the Year, Gentlemen and so many more.
I wound up missing the salute the riders did for the crowd when they came on the track but I heard the cheers. It was only later I discovered what the cheers were for. The race itself is somewhat of a blur but I had my digital camera with me and tried the best I could to record the race with it. Since I had to concentrate on the job at hand the video was not of great quality. I got some of the sky. Some of the race. Some of the track. But I got all of the memories of that minute-and-a-half-plus of the last race to ever be run at Bay Meadows.
When the “Official” sign went up and the winner, You Lift Me Up, returned to the winner’s circle to a crowd of adoring fans I walked briskly off the roof and to my car and drove out of the parking lot for the final time. I’ve been back to the site of Bay Meadows numerous times since 2008 and if I knew then how much I’d miss it, I might have lingered a little bit longer after the races that day.
Michael Wrona, Bay Meadows track announcer and current announcer at Los Alamitos Race Course:
My profession affords me a unique vantage point from which to experience this great sport’s most memorable moments. However, the task of broadcasting a racetrack’s closure is weighty and burdensome. I was the announcer at Chicago’s Arlington International Racecourse (as it was then branded) when the track was closed in the late 1990s to protest Riverboat Casino legislation. While this caused a massive disruption to my career path and was an emotional end to the track’s 1997 meeting, the possibility existed that Arlington would reopen at some point. (It did but, ironically, is now on the verge of being shuttered permanently - just as I’ve been asked to write this piece remembering the demise of Bay Meadows.)
No doubt existed over the finality of Bay Meadows’ closure in 2008, and my objective was to respectfully capture the magnitude of the occasion without going overboard. The day began with a special treat on the Public Address system. The track programmed a Quarter Horse stakes to open the card and graciously invited Ed Burgart to call it. Ed had announced Quarter Horse racing at Bay Meadows until its cessation in 1991, and I was delighted to stand aside as the legendary announcer returned to the Bay Meadows booth for the first time in 17 years. (On a personal note, it’s amazing to think that I have recently succeeded Ed as the voice of Los Alamitos.)
Emotions percolated across that August afternoon and peaked during the post parade for the finale, when the outriders paused and all horses faced the crowd in a farewell salute. Concentration and focus were at a premium as last post approached. The final race was named The Last Dance, which inspired me to depart from my trademark “Racing!” As the gate sprang open, I exclaimed “Dancing!” While never comfortable quoting myself, I shall leave you now – as I did then – with these lines from one of my most emotionally challenging race calls: “Dancing! And the big crowd gives the Grand Old Lady a fond farewell cheer” … “They’re in the back stretch, and it’s a surreal scene as three-quarters of a century’s tradition is evaporating before our eyes” … “The final field to grace this hallowed ground heads for home.”
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