Discussion Thread

One thing I loved about growing up on the racetrack is that it's a microcosm of America.

Look at the crowd in the stands. Everyone's there. People are having a good time, betting, winning, losing, enjoying the day. Regular folk with crumpled tickets, interspersed with bookies trying to make the big win on the race of the day. Shoulda bet the Pick 6, you know you had it.

Next, get away from the crowd and go out to the barns. The guys mucking stalls don't speak English and half of them don't have proper papers. The jockeys? Good ones can keep an attachment to some trainer or owner, but most float around from gig to gig.

From the barns, go to the paddock. You'll need to flash ID to get in. There, the horses parade for their owners and trainers before the race. Size them up. Look across the lawn to see the opposing owners. Nod genially; you've been here before. Act the part, be the part.

Now back to the crowd. Look up, above the grandstand. See the box seats? That's where the real money is. Glass panels and air-conditioned rooms separate the boxes from the grandstand in the stale July heat. Within, millionaires and billionaires look on as their seconds and entourages tend to them, with waiters serving chilled wine to cloth-draped tables. Paddock managers file in to give them the final update before the race.

And with all that, everything comes down to actual performance on the track. Twelve riders, twelve horses, one mile. All of the prep in the world comes down to these two minutes.

Everyone, from the illegal immigrant to the person who makes the 1% look poor, all in the same place at the same time, looking at the final turn.

/r/neoliberal Thread