Original post date: may 2, 2009 | I'm bumping this up in the order for new readers
The general public could be racing’s last hope, but only if they know the whole story
For years, The Thoroughbred racing industy has tried to identify a new source of patron that will keep the sport going into the next generation, What they’ve failed to realize is that the audience is there. . . waiting for the racing industry and its broadcasters to speak to them in the language of “sport.”
“The most exciting two minutes in sports” is the tagline used by the broadcast networks to promote the Kentucky Derby to casual fans. It works on two levels: people like to watch things go fast and they don’t need to invest a lot of time for the outcome.
The unprecedented media coverage of Barbaro’s extended and courageous (but ultimately unsuccesful) battle to overcome the complications of a catastrophic injury was a powerful and undeniable indication that the casual fan, along with the “general public” wanted the story to continue well past the end of the race. And, perhaps more importantly, they wanted to be active participants in the rest of Barbaro’s story.
Some spoke of their hopes for Barbaro in the office elevator; kids (the racing fans and consumers of the future )sent their bright cards and get-well wishes to the Jacksons; hundreds of blogs were created and even after his story should have been replaced with the next “horse-wonder,” Barbaro was still there.
Even the most jaded of those who make their living on the backside couldn’t help but notice the storm of concern just over the horizon. Track workers who regularly deal with catastrophe by invoking the mantra: “Well, that’s racing. . . “pricked their ears this time and watched as the story after the race became the biggest story to visit racing in a very long time.
When was the last time you saw post-op radiographs of a horse's leg in USA Today?
Read more about [intlink id="equine-injury" type="page"]equine injury[/intlink] and recent increase of fatal [intlink id="hind-limb-fractures-in-racing-thoroughbreds" type="post"]hind leg injury[/intlink]
Barbaro will be forever linked to the awesome power of the casual fan. The fact that his story was followed so closely by the “general public” is a sign that there is a ready-made audience out there, prepared to follow the story to some sort of ending (happy or not).
As “viewers,” we’ve become accustomed to a form of storytelling that has a specific and recognizable structure. Most, if not all “non-scripted” shows (yes, I’m including sporting events in this category) have a beginning (how exciting!), a middle (this is difficult), an end (a winner!) and a postscript (where are they now/what can we learn?/ how can I help?)
And, with online communities devoted to every conceivable “character” in the mix. . .(two, four or eight-legged) the story continues to play out through the retelling of events and the sharing of personal experiences. Its not uncommon for fans to visit these diverse communities seeking answers about how they should feel about what happened.
As much as I doubt the actual existence of what we call “closure,” maybe that’s the story-telling element that’s been missing from Thoroughbred racing. In any other sport that risks limbs and lives, there is a certain reverence, respect and yes, dignity that comes from understanding the sacrifices and risks that are faced by the participants on their way to glory.
There are few things as damaging to the sport and as alienating to its fans (and casual viewers) as the real or perceived apathy of those who participate in racing. Could you imagine hearing “Oh well, that’s racing. . .” following the death of a NASCAR driver?
In all other athletic pursuits, if a participant is injured or killed, we hear about it. There is a moment of silence. The world stops for a few beats to honor the fallen. Instead of raising the tarps and moving on to the next race, maybe there’s room to acknowledge that there has been a loss. Maybe the real problem lies not in what happens on the track, but how we choose to acknowledge it?
Raising the tarp to spare the crowd a horrific memory is one thing, but its no way to conduct an entire industry. Horses will continue to take bad steps, have freak accidents or simply drop dead, whether they’re competing in a $2,000 claiming race, running in the Kentucky Derby or enjoying their freedom in a grassy field. Its not fair, no one is to blame, and it sucks, but it will continue to happen, even if the next “new” racing surface is comprised of millions of tiny pillows.
Eight Belles Dead on Track
The general public could be racing’s last hope, but only if they know the whole story
For years, The Thoroughbred racing industy has tried to identify a new source of patron that will keep the sport going into the next generation, What they’ve failed to realize is that the audience is there. . . waiting for the racing industry and its broadcasters to speak to them in the language of “sport.”
“The most exciting two minutes in sports” is the tagline used by the broadcast networks to promote the Kentucky Derby to casual fans. It works on two levels: people like to watch things go fast and they don’t need to invest a lot of time for the outcome.
The unprecedented media coverage of Barbaro’s extended and courageous (but ultimately unsuccesful) battle to overcome the complications of a catastrophic injury was a powerful and undeniable indication that the casual fan, along with the “general public” wanted the story to continue well past the end of the race. And, perhaps more importantly, they wanted to be active participants in the rest of Barbaro’s story.
Some spoke of their hopes for Barbaro in the office elevator; kids (the racing fans and consumers of the future )sent their bright cards and get-well wishes to the Jacksons; hundreds of blogs were created and even after his story should have been replaced with the next “horse-wonder,” Barbaro was still there.
Even the most jaded of those who make their living on the backside couldn’t help but notice the storm of concern just over the horizon. Track workers who regularly deal with catastrophe by invoking the mantra: “Well, that’s racing. . . “pricked their ears this time and watched as the story after the race became the biggest story to visit racing in a very long time.
Barbaro will be forever linked to the awesome power of the casual fan. The fact that his story was followed so closely by the “general public” is a sign that there is a ready-made audience out there, prepared to follow the story to some sort of ending (happy or not).
As “viewers,” we’ve become accustomed to a form of storytelling that has a specific and recognizable structure. Most, if not all “non-scripted” shows (yes, I’m including sporting events in this category) have a beginning (how exciting!), a middle (this is difficult), an end (a winner!) and a postscript (where are they now/what can we learn?/ how can I help?)
And, with online communities devoted to every conceivable “character” in the mix. . .(two, four or eight-legged) the story continues to play out through the retelling of events and the sharing of personal experiences. Its not uncommon for fans to visit these diverse communities seeking answers about how they should feel about what happened.
As much as I doubt the actual existence of what we call “closure,” maybe that’s the story-telling element that’s been missing from Thoroughbred racing. In any other sport that risks limbs and lives, there is a certain reverence, respect and yes, dignity that comes from understanding the sacrifices and risks that are faced by the participants on their way to glory.
There are few things as damaging to the sport and as alienating to its fans (and casual viewers) as the real or perceived apathy of those who participate in racing. Could you imagine hearing “Oh well, that’s racing. . .” following the death of a NASCAR driver?
In all other athletic pursuits, if a participant is injured or killed, we hear about it. There is a moment of silence. The world stops for a few beats to honor the fallen. Instead of raising the tarps and moving on to the next race, maybe there’s room to acknowledge that there has been a loss. Maybe the real problem lies not in what happens on the track, but how we choose to acknowledge it?
Raising the tarp to spare the crowd a horrific memory is one thing, but its no way to conduct an entire industry. Horses will continue to take bad steps, have freak accidents or simply drop dead, whether they’re competing in a $2,000 claiming race, running in the Kentucky Derby or enjoying their freedom in a grassy field. Its not fair, no one is to blame, and it sucks, but it will continue to happen, even if the next “new” racing surface is comprised of millions of tiny pillows.
