by Bob Carson

Editor’s Note: The USTA website is pleased to present freelance writer Bob Carson and his popular “Outside the Box” features. This monthly series is a menu of outlandish proposals presented with a wink — but the purpose behind them is serious. The views contained in this column are that of the author alone, and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of the United States Trotting Association.

Bob Carson

The earth has shifted for the written word. Saying goodbye to your daily newspaper and monthly magazine feels like waving goodbye to faithful friends. Paper communication is being replaced by ethereal strangers who may or may not be friendly. But these revolutionary methods for messaging are dream opportunities for horse racing that will allow us to escape from an insular box.

Just as owners and trainers of harness horses strive to race on the big stages, writers hope to reach national audiences. After a decade of pitching, I had a few at bats in various areas, but national publications would constantly reject horse race related material.

National editors explained the reasons:

“The article is fine….but what do our readers (or more importantly, our advertisers) in Georgia or Texas care about horse races.”

“Where is my product placement?”

“I am unfamiliar with this pastime.”

Another editor snapped back, “We never publish anything related to gambling because it offends a portion of our readers.”

Content related to horse racing was handicapped. Submissions were relegated to preaching to a wonderful, yet small, choir. Some of us want more; we want to entice people who are not in our harness racing fraternity to give us a look.

The digital world has opened the barn door. Today, writing often appears on platforms like this one. The trend will increase faster than we can imagine. Phones and tablets are the new paper. Each day writers grow more comfortable in the new world, no longer restricted by length, depth or niche.

But the theme of this column is not the revolution in publishing — it is about you. As readers who love harness racing, you have new opportunities that you should exploit as often as possible. In your hands rests the responsibility of giving our game an unbelievable push forward into the mainstream.

Autumn Ryan graphic

Each time you find something on a racing site that you deem interesting, entertaining, alluring, informative, evocative, humorous, or any other adjective — search your database (both physical and mental) and forward the words, or the photos, or the clips, to anyone who might enjoy our strange little world. Each personalized connection that you make will increase our reach. This is tremendously exciting.

Here is a specific example:

Most writers, newspapers and magazines keep a morgue. In publishing, morgues are files of previously published material that can be revisited. I keep my own little morgue; once it was a series of folders, today it is in the cyber cloud. Allow me to open the crypt and fish out a reprint of a story that skirts the racing neighborhood.

Originally, my target for this particular article was a national business magazine. The angle was a humorous menu of ideas for improving work environments. The editor, who had used my material on train travel and humor, did not quite feel this one was appropriate for his audiences. The racing hurdle was part of the reason.

Eventually, the piece was published, not in the business world but in a fine Canadian harness racing magazine (TROT). The story was printed on glossy paper with a snappy cartoon, long, long ago (2007) — before the explosion in popularity of smart phones and tablets. I will attach the story (The Velma Shuffle) onto the bottom of this column.

Consider the reach that this story had upon original publication. A few thousand people read it; all of them were harness racing enthusiasts. After they read it, they stuffed the magazine into the paper recycle bin or a drawer.

In the end, the story did zero to accomplish what I set out to do — spread the gospel of the trotter and pacer to people who do not know we exist (in this case the business community). When this story and multitudes likes it appeared in print magazines aimed at harness racing fans, the material never had a prayer of recruiting new fans, never had a chance to find new eyes.

Today, a few short years later, when I resurrect the story and post it on this website, the words are the same, but the world is very different. This online version has several huge advantages over the print edition; it can contain links, photos, video clips. The story can be printed, saved, filed, or edited with a click of a finger.

But the most important advantage for our sport is that when this version is tossed into the world of online/social networking, the tale has a chance of being clicked forward. In fact, and this is astonishing, the piece will now be available to people anywhere in the world, even in other languages. The implications are enormous. People like you suddenly have the chance to introduce our game to any potential convert.

The more you click material from our world to the unwashed masses, the better our chances. Consider it your duty as a lover of our sport to be a daily missionary.

The Velma Shuffle

In his new position as factory floor manager, William T. Feldman inherited a cranky group of 28 employees. Each day from 4 p.m. to 12 midnight, the workers faced eight hours of hunching over a table, soldering, stapling and screwing together hand held vacuums. Morale was low. Grumpiness, irritability and absenteeism were high. Russian gulags had more of a buzz than the Richford Assembly Company. Even the name of the company was boring.

Feldman was a man of action, clearly evidenced by having had four marriages before the age of 46. He had lost half of his hair to age, most of his money to alimony and gained 30 pounds due to a love of pastry. These days he looked like a latter day Dan Ackroyd.

But William T. Feldman had an abundance of enthusiasm and the optimism of a rising star. Somehow, he would turn the work environment of his troops around.

One of the first problems Feldman faced was that he routinely found employees asleep at their tables. Often, around 11, he would find a worker with his or her head on a partially assembled vacuum, snoring softly, with drool dribbling into the internal wiring of a Handvac800.

Feldman began his mission to improve morale with a gentle dose of humor. He made a large poster. Arriving early, he hung it beneath the clock at the front of the large square workroom.

Excuses for When You Are Caught Sleeping

(Please restrict use to one per month)

They told me at the blood bank this might happen.
This is just a 15-minute power-nap like they raved about in the last time management course.
I was meditating on the mission statement and envisioning a new paradigm!
This is one of the seven habits of highly effective people.
Someone must’ve put decaf in the wrong pot.
I was working smarter, not harder.
“…and I especially thank you for my excellent boss…Amen.”

The satirical poster improved the workroom atmosphere — for about five minutes. As his bewildered crew trudged to their stations, they took turns pointing to the new poster below the clock where the hands turned so slowly. After ambling up and reading the quotes, several employees smiled. Annie Dupree actually laughed out loud and James Belington, the most egregious of the ‘on the job sleepers’ was somewhat perplexed and asked Feldman if this meant that they were allowed to take naps. William Feldman smiled and gently said, “No.”

Pleased that he had elicited a few smiles, Feldman pushed forward with his mission to create a happy workplace with the intensity of a hungry cat studying a mouse. Each week, his work force was subjected to a different morale building activity. The results were questionable.

The softball game was brought into play far too soon.

The game was scheduled for a local park at 1 p.m. Attendance was voluntary. To the 28 workers of the second shift, voluntary was interpreted as unnecessary. Despite a beautiful afternoon, two neat stacks of 14 blue and 14 yellow tee shirts embroidered with Richford Rocks and an impressive catered buffet lunch, three employees showed up. This made dividing the staff into equal teams a moot point. It also made the homeless community very happy. They spread the word of free food and t-shirts as if they had Twitter accounts in their shopping carts.

Feldman’s second idea, Wheel of Good Fortune, was his best — until the horse race thing.

Feldman purchased a large wheel that looked much like a dartboard, the kind of wheel of chance found at amusement parks where the operator gives a spin and an indicator clacks against wooden pegs until it stops. Feldman inserted each employee’s name into one of the sections and then mounted the wheel on the wall next to the poster with excuses for sleeping.

Each evening, just prior to the 7 p.m. lunch break, Feldman gave the wheel a healthy spin. One lucky employee would be allowed the choice of going home with pay, or finishing the shift with double pay for the remaining four hours.

The daily “spin” moved the morale needle. Workers began to look forward to this break in the monotony. Discussions erupted about the wisdom of going home or continuing to work and reap the extra windfall. At first, winners of the spin greeted their good fortune with slight smiles or a fist pump — until Velma Murphy won.

When the wheel clacked to a stop next to her name, Velma broke into a long and bizarre dance around the entire workroom using all of her 300 pounds with astonishing dexterity. She clapped her pudgy hands and shimmied as if her muumuu had just been ignited. She brought the house down.

Velma’s performance led to a rash of dancing winners. It became the rage. Each winner futilely tried to outdo the Velma shuffle. Some went as far as bringing pre-recorded music just in case they won. Soon each new dance was anticipated as much as the spin of the wheel.

Encouraged by the increased productivity of a happier workforce, Feldman pressed on relentlessly. Alas, other morale builders were not as successful. The exercise equipment was rarely used. A “joke of the day” bulletin board, the book exchange and chili cook-off were, if not complete failures, very disappointing.

The horse scheme was a winner. It had legs.

It was not Feldman’s idea. Lenny Mishlak, a skinny, nervous guy with a graying pencil thin mustache and blue-black, slicked back hair, brought the idea, fully fleshed out, to Feldman as the bewildered employees were gathering up their shoes on midnight of the ill-fated “shoes optional” day.

Lenny had not bothered to tie his pointy black leather shoes. He slid a rickety metal folding chair across the tile floor and placed it across from Feldman’s desk.

Lenny spoke in a high staccato. “So, boss, the shoe thing didn’t go so good, did it?”

Feldman shook his head ruefully.

Lenny jack-knifed forward, tied one of his shoes, and then looked up. “Got an idea for your next…thing….you know…to keep the troops happy.”

Feldman raised his eyebrows, gave a “bring it on” wave and leaned back.

Lenny leaned back and said. “Buy a horse, a harness race horse.”

Feldman just stared.

Lenny continued. “I’ve owned a few. It’s fun, it’s interesting, it ain’t that expensive and it is something a group can do together. Plus, and this is big, you always have a chance to make a few bucks if you get lucky and get a real good horse.”

Feldman leaned forward and waited a few seconds before replying.

“Interesting Lenny, very interesting, could you work up an outline, you know…costs, administration, presentation, and goals — sort of like a business plan? Oh, and Lenny, you would need to be the point man on this project. Oh, and Lenny, keep it to yourself until we decide it’s a go?”

Lenny was surprised. He expected rejection. He had a lifetime of rejection behind him. He was slightly disappointed he would not get to launch into his well-rehearsed and fierce defense of his plan. He cocked his head before speaking.

“Sure boss. Before I do anything, what’s the budget, who’s paying the tab? You? The friggin company?”

“How much do you need?”

Lenny, having given this prior consideration answered quickly, “Minimum 20 G’s.”

“Yikes.”

Finally, Lenny could use part of his presentation.

“Think of it like this. Getting a racehorse would last for at least a year. That’s 52 weeks for 28 people — you do the math; it works out to $2.74 per day, per person that the company pays. Plus, when you sell the horse, you get something back, you keep the horse for multiple years, and your nut comes down. Investing in a racehorse is like taking a chance on the stock market, except your investment eats, poops ands runs, hopefully fast.”

Despite having no idea if he could raise the money, Lenny’s enthusiasm and obvious knowledge swept William Feldman off his feet like his previous wives in the early days of their ill-fated marriages. Hoping the horse investment would pay more dividends than his wedding vows, Feldman smiled and said, ”Plan on $25,000, Lenny.”

Lenny Mishlak proved to be spectacularly creative and amazingly organized.

At a 4:30 meeting on August 14, Feldman announced the purchase of a harness race horse that would be the “property of the second shift.” The employees would share in any and all purse money the horse earns. As the employees glanced at each other, Feldman turned the meeting over to Lenny Mishlak, who took control as if he were the CEO of a Fortune Five Hundred Company. The lights were dimmed and Lenny began a Power Point Presentation. Leaping to the screen in bold block letters was the sentence…

YOU NOW OWN A SHARE OF A RACEHORSE

Lenny read the words on the screen like he was selling Ginzu Knives on a carnival Midway. He pushed a clicker.

This is not a joke or gimmick; you own 1/28th of a 2-year-old Standardbred horse. If the horse earns money at the racetrack — so do you.

Another click. A video showed a beautiful horse romping in a paddock as a soundtrack with soaring violins accompanied the rustic scene. Lenny clicked again.

This horse, a young female (filly) is unnamed.

As he read, Lenny’s voice was slower and calmer. He was charming, like a professional talking head. Lenny revealed one item at a time and then read the sentence on the screen just to cover all the bases…

This horse, a young female (filly) is unnamed.

We will name her.

We will watch her progress.

We will hope she is talented and will race for money.

If this horse makes money you will share in the profits.

There will be no cost to you.

You can keep your shoes on.

The shoe thing got a big laugh. Lenny clicked again. A stretch run of a harness race flashed onto the screen.

Our horse is a harness horse; this means she pulls a cart. The cart is called a sulky.

Click

Your participation can be active or passive. Your first opportunity to participate is to suggest a name for our horse. If you have a suggestion, drop it into the box in the break room by Friday.

Click

Each Monday, at 6 p.m., there will be a 20-minute presentation that will explain the world of horse racing. Topics will include racing, training, staking, wagering and classification. We will go slowly (let’s hope our filly does not). There will be a Q & A session after each presentation.

Lenny knew the value of pace. He stopped his first session at this point. He planted a seed. He reasoned that curiosity would fertilize the project and the possibility of extra money would irrigate his field.

The buzz began. The horse was named Valiant Velma (not terribly original but the lone entry came from Velma Murphy). The Monday sessions, hosted by a confident and creative Lenny Mishlak, were at first a blissful break from work, but soon morphed into real interest and discussion.

Posters of Valiant Velma went up. Lenny organized pre-work visits to the stable. He documented the horse’s training schedule. Eventually Lenny created flow charts and pedigree charts and skillfully explained the nuances of harness racing to each employee.

One glorious day, Valiant Velma (some workers had playfully taken to calling the filly Vacuum Velma), made it to the races. Her first race fell on a work night. Feldman, after much manipulation and pleading to company ownership, convinced the organization to allow the workers to leave to attend the race.

Valiant Velma finished a strong second in her maiden race before an ecstatic gathering. The following week she won. The Velma shuffle performed in the winner’s circle by Richford employees looked like a Conga line of people with a rare muscle disease.

Lenny showed tapes of Valiant Velma’s races at the weekly meetings. He explained exactly what went right or wrong. He kept meticulous records. At the end of the season, Valiant Velma finished the season with earnings of $11,400. Each owner received a check for $40.72.

What a ride. The workers found talking about their horse and learning about the sport of harness racing a pleasant diversion from whining about the weather, the poor pay, the ventilation system, the dwindling health insurance coverage, and terrorists.

Morale went up. Productivity increased. Between the “Wheel of Good Fortune,” the new audio system, and the tastier, more healthful food supplied in the break room, the second shift is no longer a sentence to be served. Employees are no longer sullen. In fact, things are quite lively; maybe too lively. Yearling sales are around the corner and debate rages hot and heavy about the next Richford selection.

William Feldman is writing a motivational book.

Lenny Mishlak is putting together additional racing syndicates.

And Velma Murphy is working on a new dance.