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.

“My Dear Watson, how often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” — Sherlock Holmes in The Sign of the Four

Bob Carson

Money will decide our fate. Without a solid revenue base we are doomed, if not to extinction, to extreme marginalization. Without solid revenue streams of our own, harness racing will become as relevant as the Lollipop Guild.

Last night, for old times, I visited my local harness racetrack. Usually, I play a few races from home and skip the drive in my semi-dependable car. Evidently others share this lethargic attitude because there were barely enough people in the grandstands for a square dance. I leaned back in the dreary racetrack atmosphere and asked myself this troubling question, “What would it take to get me to return to these once-beloved grandstands on a regular basis?”

Fortunately, well perhaps unfortunately, I not only talk to myself, I answer myself. The answer I gave myself was, “The enticement that would lead me back is money.”

If the money I earmarked for investment on the races was a significantly better deal at the racetrack, and only at the racetrack, I would return like a lemming. A large audience of lemmings like me would bring ambiance, fun and enthusiasm to an evening at the racetrack.

Step into my thoughts as I consider the aforementioned trek to the harness track.

“Do I really want to drive? Why not just vegetate in front of the computer and play a few races? A trip to the track will take extra time and fuel. At the track I will need to march back and forth to the window or machine. The significant other will not agree to go. Social interaction may be required. My refrigerator is well stocked. Etc. etc.”

But the biggest detriment to jumping into my car, or even just logging onto my computer was, “Even in my delusionary world, I can’t beat the grotesque takeout.”

Autumn Ryan graphic

Real gamblers (not lottery players, a sub species who show a strange aversion to simple mathematics or a bizarre attraction to convenience stores) like good odds on their wagers. Be you a whale or a minnow you prefer a fighting pari-mutuel chance.

Presently, dollars wagered on horse racing face a huge takeout, sometimes more than 25 percent. For a bettor, even a casual one, this is a very high hurdle.

These large takeouts drive potential horse players to other gambling games or islands in the Caribbean. The huge takeouts keep wager-minded people away from our racetracks and their computer screens where horse racing desperately needs the cash flow.

Imagine a scenario where people who physically travel to the racetrack, pay admission and wager via the tellers and machines at the racetrack, get a perk, a big perk. The perk is that on-site players have a revolutionary takeout model as a reward for their attendance — a mere 10 percent takeout.

The racetrack that puts on the show is the only place this deal is available. This wagering scheme does not affect the “stay at homes.”

People can continue to gamble via television, twitter, on-shore, off-shore, Pauly Shore, computer, I-phone, cell phone, smart phone, sousaphone, tablet or capsule. They will play as usual. Their money will be gratefully appreciated.

To get the big discount on your wagered money it must be physically funneled through the racetrack. At a 10 percent takeout, horse racing morphs from a horrid wager to a humongous opportunity for serious handicappers to make serious money. Any handicapper worth his IOUs will confidently and enthusiastically guarantee that with a 10 percent takeout he will turn a profit and have the time of his life. Casual fans will enjoy the new ambiance of live bodies roaming the racetrack.

The 10 percent solution does not require Sherlock Holmes. It requires an increase in volume and a recapture of funds for the people who put on the show. The on-track discount program relies on the simple paradigm that money wagered on the premises is easier to corral and count, whereas money wagered away from the track, while once again greatly appreciated, can be elusive and occasionally pilfered. The more control for the folks that put on the show, the racetrack and horsemen, the better our chances of getting stronger.

I will use fictional figures in this hypothetical prototype because I have a firm policy against actual research. I’m a theory guy. Still, for those forward thinkers that insist upon using hard data, I will take the time to fabricate some numbers.

For demonstration purposes, tonight at my local track it is business as usual. Let’s say there are 200 live bodies that each wager $100 on this bleak evening. If my remedial math does not fail me, the on-site handle was $20,000. Obviously, without off-track money tossed into the pot, the on-site revenue stream is a laughable trickle.

In a hypothetical evening in the near future, lured by the astonishingly low 10 percent take-out, 3,000 people pack the joint. Each on-site patron wagers the same $100. Excuse me while I get my calculator. That bumps the on-site handle to $300,000. They still receive the usual money from their off-track platforms. The racetrack will also reap revenue from admission and concessions. The joint will be a tad livelier and we might receive that elusive positive buzz.

Potential movers and shakers in the harness race game may say, “Hrrumph, big time gamblers would just phone their wagers to shills at the racetrack to take advantage of the low takeout.”

I say, “So what? Let these whales phone away.”

Gamblers may decide to phone in wagers via on-site stooges, front men, on-track brokers, beards, shills, representatives, mules, relay people, conduits, or whatever terminology we place on these agents. This would be outstanding because the money goes through the window and directly into the hands of the racetrack, the state and the horsemen.

A whale may have his on-site representative wager huge amounts due to the astonishingly attractive takeout. The track would enjoy many such phone calls; they might even supply free smart phones. It would be great to have scads of these stooges on the premises because stooges are an upgrade from empty seats. Heck, it would be fun to have the racetrack concourse morph into a mini stock exchange with hyper people racing around with headphones and ear buds trying to close the deal at the correct moment.

Entrepreneurs and designers may say, “Bah, humbug; state statutes and laws will make this impossible to implement.”

I say, “Show the legislators a concrete plan based on dollars and cents that could bring the state immediate revenue for a simple amendment in existing percentages and they may change regulations faster than hummingbirds in a hurricane.

Marketers and the masses may say, “Tsk, tsk; nothing will ever get people to attend the races.”

I say, “Show them the money, show them a good time and you might be surprised.”