Saturday is opening night at Emerald Downs and I won’t be there. Not because I don’t want to be, just cause with the fireworks show and the fact that it’s opening night means that it’ll be packed to the gills and I’ll wait til Sunday to go. It’s a great time of year. I’ll never forget Willie the Cat blitzing his rivals on opening night 2004 to set a world record for five and one half furlongs in 1:01.20. Willie and Slewicide Cruise (who ran 2nd to Willie that night) became two of my favorites that night. Or Gordy’s Sweet Jordy winning and allowing me and my friend Ben Root to go into the winner’s circle in front of the opening night crowd in 2005. I’ve been to countless Longacres Miles at Emerald Downs, hit a ton of bets, and lost a ton more. I had my biggest score there in 2005 when I hogged the whole pick 4 pool one night. When I worked in the media office there in 2004 I was making $10 an hour. Emerald used to allow you to cash your checks at the track and one friday payday I cashed my check for $634 and promptly lost it all by the 7th race that evening. The next day I called my mom to borrow $500 cause I had “an unexpected medical bill” i had to pay. Thanks mom!
But Emerald is a special place. This week Scott Hanson wrote about all the people who make it special. CLICK HERE for that article. We spent my dad’s last few days on earth at Emerald Downs watching the races while he had his oxygen tank in. I’ll never forget him saying “You’d think you wouldn’t get pissed about losing a photo at the track cause in a week i’ll be dead. But I’m really fucking pissed at that little midget.” He referred to all jockeys as midgets. As sad as I am he died young, I can’t fathom my dad living in the age of having to be politically correct or respectful. He’d never survive that.
But after dad died I just kept on going to Emerald Downs. I spent countless hours there all the time. It’s where we spent our summers, my friends and I. It’s where I started practicing announcing and where longtime racecaller Robert Geller helped me to improve at it. I’ll never forget getting to call my first race there. It was very emotional. In my decade as a racecaller I was often asked what my dream job or dream race to call would be. I always said Emerald Downs and the Longacres Mile. And I wasn’t even lying. Ok maybe Santa Anita would be cool too, but Emerald was always the dream.
So fast forward to a Thursday afternoon in Shreveport, Louisiana in early April of 2015. I open my email and it’s from someone at Emerald Downs. “The announcing job at Emerald has come open and we’d love to have you come interview for it.” I drove 2500 miles as fast as I could and on a Friday night walked into the conference room to interview for the job I always wanted. I was nervous but confident. The first thing the new GM told me was something to the effect of “We really want to try something new and different and are hoping some young people and/or some women apply for the job as well.” I sat there knowing I just drove 2500 miles for nothing. I was stunned. It was really weird. It wasn’t even an interview. They kind of just more asked about the announcing “fraternity” and stuff like that. Finally the Marketing manager asked some specific questions. I just ended the interview by saying what I felt was the truth. “You’re not gonna hire anyone who will have more passion calling these races than me.”
A few weeks later they called me to tell me they were going in another direction. I knew they were but I was still crushed. I watched 3 horse races between Mid April and October of that year and all 3 were won by American Pharoah. I was really bitter about the whole situation. I was gonna hate whoever they hired so I never even asked who they went with. I was off social media and kind of just kept to myself for a few months. I drove Uber full time and watched Mariners games in the evening.
But I learned some things that summer that have honestly served me well. First of all I learned about entitlement. I always just assumed I would step into that job at Emerald when Robert left. For years I was their go to backup. Everyone there knew I wanted it. I was gonna get the job and call there for the rest of my career. And when I didn’t get it I honestly just gave up on announcing. What was the point? I responded like any entitled, spoiled asshole would. I took my ball and went home. Just cause I wanted something doesn’t mean it was owed to me. I applied for a job and I didn’t get it. It happens to EVERYONE.
I also learned about bitterness. It got me nowhere. I was mopey about not getting my way and bitter about the future and everything. And my nature isn’t to be bitter. I’ve always prided myself on not being a jealous type and have always felt genuine happiness when friends or even strangers found success. So why was I now acting the opposite of that?
So fast forward to last May, 2016. I was five months into a new job with a new company that had honestly rekindled my passion for racing. So one day I finally decided to put those old feelings aside and I went and sat at the eighth pole on a picnic bench at Emerald and watched a days races. It was amazing. I was happy about being there. My expectations of it being a bummer were totally wrong. It was Emerald Downs. I could still love it. I listened to the new announcer Matt Dinerman call the races and he did wonderfully. I thought to myself “If I was 23 and in my first full year of calling at a track, would I be this smooth and composed.” Hell no. I honestly felt a sense of pride towards Matt. He was a young racecaller, as I once was. He should have my undying support, not my petty bitterness. Matt has done himself and Emerald EXTREMELY proud with his work there so far. I can even honestly, no bullshit, no sappy blog writing, say that they made the right decision.
I started going to Emerald each Sunday, parking myself out near the eighth pole away from the crowds. And each passing week I just enjoyed it more and more. There’s something remarkably peaceful about watching a race by the head of the stretch by yourself. When they turn for home and you hear the jockeys screaming, the horses hooves thundering, and nothing else. It’s my favorite place to watch a race. So Sunday afternoon, you’ll see a large portly gentleman down at the eighth pole watching. I’ll be happy. I promise.