I Was Born On The Racetrack

I see beauty everywhere but can't see it in myself. I walk past a mirror hoping to see someone tall and elegant and strongjawed. I only see someone small and middleaged. Why am I so hard on myself?

To Curtis Stock of the Edmonton Journal_February 7_2010

Curtis, you've said it all and more. This is what I have believed for most of the last 31 years that I have spent in the industry (thoroughbreds). And on the eve of a new season in which I did not (again) get graced with a single stall for my ONE horse, you've opined correctly that the industry does nothing for its grassroots, nothing for its paying customers and nothing to save itself except lean on the saviour of slot machines and gimmicks (and take home huge paycheques). How is this possible? Have we learned nothing? For a few years Woodbine used a marketing company to generate witty, colourful posters to advertise itself. They were great for people already on-track. But did you see any of them on roadside billboards along the heavily travelled thoroughfares around town; the QEW, the 401, the Don Valley Parkway? A few, precious few..

The Arc de Triomphe is a footnote that you can see if you chance to get up early on a Sunday morning in the fall and rush over to the frontside. A few disheveled dudes may show up for those races. But you're lucky to get a complete racing form with those European horses in it.

Where is the maverick; the leader that we need? Where are the Frank Stronachs who dare to risk it all, look ridiculous for a while, take heaps of criticism but leave a living legacy? We can't lay it all on the Zenyattas, Rachel Alexandras and Seabiscuits of the world. We've got to lay our own egos and cash on the line and think creatively. And wrest the power out of the hands of the chosen few who have failed time and again.

I Was Born On The Racetrack

Delray Beach, Florida

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

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To Curtis Stock of the Edmonton Journal_February 7_2010

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