Bob Carson

It was a rough night at my local racetrack. The experience was psychologically unsettling, unsettling enough to border on creepy. It should not happen. There was no buzz in the grandstands; there was not even a hum. It was so quiet you could hear a pacemaker at a hundred yards.

Northfield Park, near Cleveland, is one of our better tracks. They race virtually non-stop, over 200 programs each year; some seasons they race five nights per week. It is basically a racing factory. The signal is popular and the staff works hard. I love the place. I love the game.

I did not expect a large crowd because it was a frigid, gloomy Tuesday night, but I did expect to find a few human beings. When I entered the building there were not enough people to hold a square dance. The few that were there did not look like promising dance partners. It was eerily quiet. Despite my pathological fixation with harness racing, the evening was depressing and oozed failure.

I kept my streak alive by leaving the racetrack with less money than I entered with for the 37th consecutive time (I’m going after DiMaggio’s record). Losing at the racetrack never bothers me. It was the lack of railbirds that ruffled me. The drive home was sobering. I am a dreamer, an optimist; but my hopes for the sport took a thumping.

The principle behind this ramble is that it would be better to close the facility to the public, than to open the doors to a minuscule, unenthusiastic handful. The psychological vibes are bad to any new patron who wanders into an empty racetrack grandstand.

I want Northfield to race. If they feel it is in their best interest to race 200 programs, great. Race on.

But do not race them in front of “crowds” of less than 2,000 people. A racetrack like Northfield Park should use their resources to continue to make the simulcast product first rate. Put on a nice television show, and then send the signal far and wide. Race every single night. Try to have great racing, great fields, and good purses — but do it for a camera or a computer. Not for the public. Let’s skip the live racing when there are few live bodies in the building.

Perhaps racetracks like Northfield Park should trim down the days the track is open to the public. Way down. Way, way down.

Here is a plan that might be worth a try. Schedule live racing presented for live patrons one day each month. Just one. The racetrack should choose very carefully the dozen days they will be putting on a show. Minimize competition. Look for a clear field. Then make that lone monthly live race day an exciting event. Make people plan. Make customers feel they are taking part in something special.

Give the PR people a chance. The staff at Northfield has proven many times they can get folks out for big events (a few months after the lonely Tuesday night at the races, Northfield hosted the Battle of Lake Erie and the night did have a buzz). It’s not easy to promote harness racing, but it is possible. Getting people to show up on a frigid Tuesday night for the 194th program of the season, the fourth program of the week, is impossible.

You cannot make an “exciting event” out of something that never stops. A daily smorgasbord dulls the appetite. Daily exposure to anything takes out some of the thrill; ask any ex-spouse or ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend. Often, less is more.

Having a mere dozen evenings to entice fans to the racetrack would rejuvenate the public relations staff of many tracks. PR people could place their eggs in a dozen baskets instead of putting them on a non-stop conveyor belt. Perhaps each monthly program could be a theme night. The staff would have a chance. The special night would be a party instead of a funeral.

Crowds are self-promoting and self-perpetuating. Any bar, restaurant, theater or movie that is well populated sends a psychological message, “This is a place to be.” Making people feel that if they miss the lone live race date, they need to wait an entire month for another chance is a good thing; it places value on the event. It is possible that a dozen big nights at the racetrack could result in as many patrons and potential fans as a hundred nights with a handful of people.

Newcomers to our game should only be exposed to the sport of harness racing in a stimulating, exciting atmosphere. First timers should never, ever, walk into a racetrack with a smattering of bored fellows who have been standing near the concession stand since Dan Patch. Existing fans deserve a stimulating environment.

The old cliché is, “You only get one chance to make a first impression.” Let’s make our first impressions for new fans on one of twelve precious days.