Same old lang syne: Feeling that old, familiar pain at Scarborough Downs

At 3:27 p.m. on November 28, 2020, eight horses went postward at Scarborough Downs in a one-mile event for pacers with a Track Master rating of 60 or lower at the time of the draw. Two minutes and two and one-fifth seconds later, Goin Manstyle crossed the finish line in front for the second time in 14 starts this year and 27th time in 165 lifetime starts.

A full, competitive field of cheap horses made for a typical nightcap at Scarborough Downs, except this time it was the final race in the track’s 70-year history. Scarborough Downs now joins the ever-growing list of racetracks to have ceased live racing (it will remain open as a simulcasting venue). An hour and a half after the Scarborough Downs finale, the thoroughbred venue Calder Race Course in Miami Gardens conducted its last race, bringing the tally of tracks that I have attended for live racing that have now closed to 12 (which is 18.75% of tracks I have attended). 

I first attended Scarborough Downs in June of 2015, almost exactly one year before I moved to Maine, a move that necessitated that I give up my career in thoroughbred horse racing. Having live racing nearby, even if it was bottom-level harness racing, made the transition a little easier for me.

Racing on opening day on March 31, 2018, opening day

The grandstand was dilapidated, the pools were miniscule (a typical win pool might have had $300 in it), the takeout rates were confiscatory (18% WPS, 26% for all exotics), and nearly all televisions were standard definition, but those things couldn’t stop me from becoming a semi-regular patron at Scarborough Downs.

I found handicapping Scarborough’s races to be challenging, in a good way. For a half-mile harness track with purses that seldom exceeded $5,000, there were not as many odds-on winners as you might have expected, and plenty of winners came from off the pace. The driver colony was deep and I almost never found myself blaming the driver for any of my losses. An annual highlight was the retirement ceremony, held in the fall, for 14-year-old horses who had competed at Scarborough Downs.

Devil's Embrace N is honored during the 2018 retirement ceremony 

On a typical day, crowds consisted primarily of handicappers who were above the age of 55 and horsemen and their families. Between the grandstand and the simulcasting area of the clubhouse, there might have been 100-400 people present. A larger, younger crowd would come on Kentucky Derby Day, and later in May a large contingent of students from Bowdoin College would celebrate the end of the school year by attending a day of racing at Scarborough Downs. 

The track apron during the summer of 2017

Because my area of so-called expertise was thoroughbred racing, I seldom bet more than $10 on a single race. Sometimes I would watch the pool totals on the tote board and look for horses who had been underbet in the place or show pool, and I would feel an undeserved smugness when I would find a horse who paid more to place than to win. It was a lot of work just to grind out a few dollars in profit, and my overlays were often wiped out by somebody else betting $10 into the pool. The strategy was also made more difficult by the burnt-out lightbulbs on the tote board that prevented me from knowing exactly how much had been wagered on certain horses.

Trotalot, my favorite horse I saw compete at Scarborough Downs, winning a free-for-all event in 2017

The closure of the barn area in 2016 and the selling of the track to developers in 2018 made it obvious that I needed to appreciate Scarborough Downs when I could. Those aren’t the headlines associated with a racetrack with a long, successful future ahead of it. When I attended Scarborough Downs in the spring of 2019 before moving two hours north to Bangor, I wondered if the next time I attended the track might be the last. My premonition was correct as the news broke on November 19 that the track would be offering its final day of racing at the end of the month.

Gonna Hear Me Rohr winning a Maine Sire Stakes event in 2018

I decided to take my camera, facemask, and bottle of hand sanitizer and make the two-hour drive to Scarborough so I could document the final day of racing. Because I was concerned by the growing number of COVID-19 cases in the state, I took a few brief shots inside the grandstand before spending the rest of the day outdoors, finding isolated locations on the track apron so I could have clear shots of the racetrack and remain physically distanced from other spectators. One year ago, I could have easily imagined myself documenting the final day of racing at Scarborough Downs, but I never could have anticipated the extra wrinkles caused the pandemic.

Throughout the day, I scribbled a few observations in my program. I noted that the track no longer bothered to display any win, place, or show pool totals on the tote board, which only showed the win odds. I saw weeds and moss growing from the numerous cracks in the track apron, a young boy pretending he was shooting a rifle as he held a piece of splintery wood he had pulled off a bench, and small carrot pieces that had been left on the ground following the 14-year-old retirement ceremony the previous Saturday. I heard a guttural caw and looked up and saw a raven flying over the infield in the direction of the wooded area past the track’s first turn, and I wondered if the ravens have a nesting area over there and if it’s endangered due to the looming redevelopment of the property.

Although I was on the opposite side of the country, having to adhere to COVID-19 protocols, and at a small harness track instead of a mid- or high-level thoroughbred track, the day felt eerily similar to when I attended the final day of racing at Bay Meadows and Hollywood Park. With each passing race, the atmosphere became more and more of a weird combination of celebratory and somber. 

When the eight pacers emerged on the track for the final post parade and a melancholic instrumental recording of Auld Lang Syne began to play over the public address system, it took me back to August 17, 2008 when bugler David Hardiman played Auld Lang Syne as the six fillies left the walking ring at Bay Meadows prior to the Last Dance Stakes and December 22, 2013 when Jay Cohen played the same tune prior to the final race at Hollywood Park. 

Throughout the card, I scouted different locations to find a suitable place to record the final race. I wanted a place where the tote board would not block my view of the horses on the backstretch and could be confident that I could maintain physical distance from the other spectators. I eventually spotted an outdoor staircase leading to the empty dining room above the clubhouse and decided that would be my filming location. With approximately four minutes left to post, I climbed the metal stairs and looked over the track. I looked north and saw where the harness track turns for home and where the old one-mile thoroughbred track (last used in 1972) continued. I saw the wooded area to the east, behind the backstretch. I saw eight horses making their warm ups before the starting gate began to roll for the final time.

The crowd awaiting the final race ever at Scarborough Downs

The race itself was exciting, with veteran driver Wallace Watson deftly guiding Goin Manstyle to a second-over trip before tipping his 10-year-old charge three wide on the final turn. After Goin Manstyle overtook Oh Whata Nightjohn and Moonshine Bliss in midstretch, Watson leaned back in the sulky and raised his whip in triumph like he had just won the Little Brown Jug. 

Because I’m “from away,” I will not try to provide any sort of comprehensive history of Scarborough Downs and instead will leave that task to the locals. I will venture to say that the track was a victim of changing demographics and consumer preferences and competition from the casino in Oxford. Because the greater Portland area real estate market is so hot, it certainly makes sense that a harness track that in 2015 (the last year numbers were available on meharness.com) handled $2,337 per race would give way to condominiums and offices. Still, I feel compelled to mourn the loss of Scarborough Downs, which until the very end meant so much to its patrons, horsemen, and employees. 

Driver Walter Case, Jr. (second from right) moments before winning his first race during his brief comeback bid in the fall of 2017

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.