Thoroughbred racing was once called “The Sport of Kings”. I don’t know who those kings were, but if they were here today to see what their sport has devolved into, there would be a lot of subjects banished from the kingdom.

Much has been written of late about the demise of thoroughbred racing, as economic conditions and changing consumer tastes have sent horse tracks across the country into a prolonged slump. Even venerable Hollywood Park was described by the L.A. Times recently as having “small crowds and eerie silence” throughout a recent spring/summer season which could very well be its last.

In the early 1900’s the following axiom about horse racing gained popularity: “In England it is a sport, in France an entertainment, and in America a business”. In case you were wondering, that wasn’t meant as a compliment to America. And now a century later, the more successful horse racing venues have merged France’s and America’s perspectives – and pretty much nosed England’s out of the picture.

For based on what I experienced yesterday at Del Mar Race Track, thoroughbred racing can barely be considered a sport. It’s more of an open-air night club with hay.

Built in 1937 by a partnership that included actors Bing Crosby, Jimmy Durante and Oliver Hardy, Del Mar gained almost instant national notoriety the following year when co-founder Charles Howard put his horse Sea Biscuit up against Ligaroti in a $25,000 winner-take-all match race. It was the first horse race ever broadcast on NBC Radio, and literally overnight the entire country knew of this star-studded track in California “where the turf meets the surf”.

The Del Mar racing season runs for six weeks each year, beginning in mid-July. Its Opening Day is reported to be the second most attended social event in California each year (behind the Academy Awards). “Tickets” per se, don’t really exist for the event, unless you are extremely well-connected, filthy rich, a celebrity, or all of the above. I’m guessing that even Dos Equis’ Most Interesting Man In The World has to work his rolodex hard to get in.

The Junior Varsity Opening Day is the first Saturday of the season. The atmosphere is similar and the mode of dress is the same (well at least for the women), but the average bank account balance among attendees is far smaller. For better or worse, this was the day that I headed down the coast to take in a day of racing, capped by the 37th Eddie Read Stakes.

For a facility that prides itself on its tradition of a patron-friendly environment, the Del Mar that I arrived at is about the least user-friendly sports venue I’ve ever to – especially with regard to the admission process. At the front gate the posted admission was $6. I queued up, paid my fee, and was given a program. I headed into the grandstand building without a ticket or any other proof of payment. This however, did not strike me as unusual.

See, this trip to the horse track was not my first rodeo – a statement which officially sets a new (low) standard for mixed metaphors. I’ve been to horse tracks sporadically over the years, including Del Mar, several years ago when I lived in San Diego. In all that time I encountered one basic “seating plan”. You could pay for a reserved seat in an exclusive section, which provided a superior view, a private bar or restaurant and betting windows with virtually no lines.

Or, you could pay your entry fee and then sit or stand anywhere outside of the reserved section that you could find a spot. This however, was not the case at Del Mar, at least on this day. In fact, there were lots of different seating options, and much like a baseball stadium you could choose your own trade-off of cost vs. vantage point.

Except they don’t tell you that at the gate, nor is it posted anywhere. Hours later, when conversing with a track employee, he clued me in that once you get inside the gate, there is a separate ticket window tucked around the corner where you could purchase a ticket to upgrade your view. Oh.

Apparently I was not the only one who hadn’t been brought up to speed on this scenario, for after I had been shooed out of two different sections that I thought were open seating, I noticed that the poor ushers on duty were stuck with making a day out of doing the same to others. The ironic thing is that only those of us who were horse track veterans of a sort experienced this – “Hey, good to see you again, glad to have you back. Now get out of this section that you’ve previously known to offer open-seating.”

I wondered where they had herded the old guard railbirds who are actual ongoing, multi-visit patrons of the track. Easily identified by cigar-chomping, rumpled clothing and furrowed brow as they pored through handicapping sheets, I saw little evidence of their presence. I wondered if they were just sitting this one out – much like veterans of the party scene who stay home on New Year’s Eve.

Then again, maybe they’d been priced out.

For this was the most noticeable thing about my first visit to a horse track in some time. All previous experiences fell under what I know may now be a defunct business model – which is to make it ridiculously easy for people to get in the building and start betting. At Del Mar…$8 to park a half mile away from the front (and only) gate…$6 admission to merely enter the building…a still undisclosed extra fee for an actual seat…pre-made Del Mar Margaritas for the low, low price of $13 (and up to $17.50 for a premium tequila)…a Heineken draft for $8.75…a sausage with the works for $9.

Getting the picture? These are major-league baseball stadium prices, and in many respects pushing even NFL stadium prices. But here’s the thing: after paying over $50 for a seat, a bite to eat and a cocktail, you still need to dig deep to fund the betting that is ostensibly the source of the day’s entertainment!

As I was pondering this, post time for the next race arrived. And when it did, everything previously familiar about a horse track kicked into gear. The jolt of adrenalin in the crowd when the horses left the gates. The rising hopes as they made their way around the track. The unabashed begging and cajoling of “your” horse coming down the stretch. The sheer joy of the winners and the muttering of disgust of the losers. A classic tale of loss and redemption – all in a tidy sub-two minute package.

Maybe there’s still some life left in the sport after all.

To be continued…