And They’re Off…Psyche
By Greg Evans
Nika! Nika! On Sunday, at the Aqueduct Racetrack, in Ozone Park, Queens, New York, eight of nine races were canceled after the jockey’s decided not to ride for the remainder of the afternoon in non-violent protest.
Restless fans demanded competition or Negronis on the house. No more races? Better get us sloshed. “This is horseshit! (pun intended)” they screamed. Early on, through the smoke, smog, and chaos, we assumed the refusal to ride was because their minds and body’s were out of whack from the excess of satty fats, sodium, MSG, and natural flavorings saturating the brain and arteries over Thanksgiving. But that would have actually made sense.
According to the Albany Times Union, this race cancelation comes as growing tension over the past year finally overflowed between the jockeys and the NYRA management. Parx Hall of Famer, Kendrick Carmouche, who serves as the New York representative to the Jockeys' Guild, cited multiple incidents that led to the jockey’s refusal to race.
The jockey’s ultimate decision stemmed from apprehension they felt regarding to the functions of NYRA's clerk of scales and assistant clerk of scales and the ability for those responsibilities to be adequately performed.
The circumstances surrounding the event occurred when Assistant Clerk of Scales Brian Pochman, was reportedly asked to leave work after his unwillingness to perform additional responsibilities assigned to him. The perception of the jockeys was that Pochman wasn’t into it 100 percent and therefore they viewed him as unqualified and someone who shouldn’t be in a role that would potentially compromise the integrity and safety of the races. They have a point. But how did it get to this point?
At the end of the day, it is the fans who suffer. In most sports, management doesn’t care about the fans. We know this. We have known this for a long time. However, we, me included, thought horse racing was different. We thought they were the anomaly. Yes, it is about the money, obviously, and that is fine, but it has been a sport built on sincerity and trust. The fans have always been able to look the brass in the eye. You laugh now. But we had the benefit of wearing rose-colored glasses for so long. Foo on us. It happens. It’s ugly and the stink doesn’t permeate quickly.
I stared at my four-pack of Guinness Draught and giant bowls of popcorn and fruit (mangos, pineapple, grapefruit, oranges, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, strawberries, cantaloupe, lemons, pink lady apples, and dates), ready to party. Canceled. Weather was fine. The track was perfect. Deleted. End game. Who can we blame? Pochman? No, he’s too low on the totem pole. Who is the wizard behind the curtain, standing on the stool and speaking into the megaphone?
The races are scheduled to resume on Thursday, “they” say. We will take that with a grain of salt.