A tough sell. Or is it?

This week's poll at the Thoroughbred Bloggers Alliance got me thinking about how I became a diehard horse racing fan.  You can answer the poll and see the results below.  The question is:  Who is most responsible for educating first time racetrack visitors and turning them into regular patrons?

My story might be similar to yours.  I went to the track on my own.  I accidentally hit a $400 trifecta, and I was hooked.  What a pastime!  Of course, when I couldn't duplicate that feat, I realized this was actually work, and I needed to study.  So I read every handicapping book I could get my hands on.  I spent hours pouring over charts and past performances.  I was obsessed with figuring out the game.  I've spent the years since then chasing that horse, and I will likely spend the rest of my days in pursuit of that unreachable goal.  The fun, for me, is in learning from my mistakes, improving my eye and my methods and my discipline.

But not everyone has that perseverance (insanity?) gene.  Playing the horses at a dedicated level requires other qualities not everyone possesses -- a certain disdain for one's own money, a willingness to accept losing as a regular occurrence in your life, a proclivity toward solitary pursuits involving numbers.

So, where does that leave us in terms of attracting new fans and turning them into regular patrons?  As a self-taught, self-motivated player, I'm fine with putting some of the onus on the fan himself.  But are there enough people like you and me to reinvigorate the sport?

Maybe not.  But that's where the racing business comes into play.  The market will force racing to operate on a smaller scale -- contraction, as Jeremy Plonk puts it.  The racetracks that survive will likely be the ones that can make regular patrons out of people who aren't going to bury their heads in past performance charts or might not even sign up for an online wagering account.

Being open to ideas such as betting exchanges, shorter meets and rewards for playing will help lure the  casual fan into more participation.  But racing also needs to sell the personalities of the game -- there are so many colorful characters, human and equine. Racing isn't going to get a swell of new fans playing Belmont on a Wednesday, no matter the incentives.  It needs to focus on those aspects of the sport that are irresistible to just about any human being.

And that's where I come in.  As a fan, I accept a responsibility in sharing the game with others, and not just teaching them how to bet.  In that respect, I keep it simple.  No tris and supers.  I know that a winning ticket, no matter the odds, is the ultimate racing aphrodisiac.  But even that isn't likely to get most people to play the game at my dedicated level.  If they do, it's because they naturally have those qualities that create the died-in-the-wool horseplayer.

So, I always take my friends to the far turn to watch a race, where there are no betting windows.  There, it's just about the grace and beauty of the horses and their innate sense of competition.  

I tell them stories of arrogant trainers and quirky owners, about Brice Blanc's turf riding ability or Mike Smith and Chantal Sutherland's fiery relationship or Zenyatta posing for pictures in the paddock.  These aren't gimmicks, and as much as we might cringe at melodramatic NBC vignettes during the Derby, this is the stuff that helps turn the casual fan into a follower.  

My mom -- who never followed racing until recently -- eats that stuff up.  Now, she calls me and tells me who she wants to bet in the exacta at Belmont.  Not because she's studying PPs by candlelight, but because she's pulled in by the stories of rehabilitated jockeys and scrappy owners and by her awe of the horses, and their talents and personalities.

Playing the horses regularly is hard work.  Selling the game to new fans doesn't have to be.