Oct 22, 2026 · @Jamie Long
Most of us loved horse racing long before we learned to handicap it.
Keeneland
There was a time when a student at Transylvania could go to Keeneland every spring meet and every fall meet without placing a single bet, just to watch.
In those days Keeneland had no announcer. Nobody shouted through the speakers about who was ahead of whom. For the sprints, you could put your binoculars on the starting gate at the far corner of the track and see them break. If the backstretch was dry, you could follow the dust. Or you could simply watch the tote board and wait.
The best place was the rail, out on the tarmac by the finish line. As the field turned for home there came a slight rumble, almost a mumble. It grew and grew until it was the sound of hooves coming down the stretch, louder and faster, and then you could see them: chestnut and bay and gray, in a blur of jockeys' colors, flying through the finish. Behind you the crowd roared its pleasure or its displeasure. It didn't matter who won. It was art in motion.
You had a cold beer and a fairly good hot dog, and in thirty minutes it happened again, on the grass or the dirt, at a route or a sprint. Spring after spring and fall after fall, it drew you back. That is how a lifelong love of racing begins.
Other tracks, other afternoons
Every track had its own afternoon. Hialeah had its many layers of beauty, and little kiosks where, between races, you could order a Cuban espresso. At Louisiana Downs there was chili and catfish with a little Tabasco, an early lunch or a late breakfast before the first race, and then the sun on the tarmac. Arlington had its sheer size and wonder. Golden Gate had fog on the turf. Pimlico could be watched from the press box. And at Sportsman's Park, the horses and jockeys ran in weather colder than seemed to make any sense.
And there is still Saratoga, waiting to be seen.
The little voice
The wagering came later, as it does for most of us. And with it comes a voice every horseplayer knows.
The race isn't one of yours. But the horses are in the paddock, the odds look interesting, and the crowd is leaning forward. Just a little on the exacta. A daily double. Half your usual bet, just for something to do. It'll all come right by the end of the day.
It seldom does. One small bet at a time, the profit from the races that mattered drains away into races that never deserved a dollar. Most advice says the answer is discipline: be stronger, hold on all afternoon. That's a hard fight, and it lasts as long as the card does.
Nothing else to do
The problem was never a lack of discipline. The problem was having nothing else to do.
That is where choosing races changes the whole afternoon. When you already know which races are worth your money, the others stop asking for it. You don't have to resist them. You can simply enjoy them.
Set an alarm on your phone twelve or fifteen minutes before each race on your list. If two run close together, set it early enough to cover both. When it sounds, become a bettor again: look at the board, make your decisions, watch your race. When it's over, become a fan again.
In between, the afternoon is yours. Walk down to the rail. Watch them in the paddock. Have the espresso, or the catfish. Let the crowd chase every race while you wait for yours. You haven't denied yourself anything. You've traded one experience for a better one.
Discipline is hard when it's a fight. It's easy when you'd rather be at the rail.
One piece of old advice: have a soda during the races, and save the beer for after the last one.
The drive home
Who would have thought that the path to better wagering might also lead back to the simple joy of being a racing fan?
You play the few races that deserve your money, with a clear head. You enjoy the rest the way you did the first time you stood at the rail. And when the last race is over, you drive home satisfied: with the day, with the sport, and with yourself.
Nobody stands at the rail for the first time because of a wager. They are there for the horses. Everything else comes later.
Not everything has to be a wager. Some things are worth enjoying simply because they are beautiful. The horses have always been one of them.
We help identify the races worth your attention. The rest belong to the horses. Enjoy them.
Jamie Russell Long, 12 Horses Racing
