Sports

PIMLICO AIN’T NO JEWEL: HOME OF PREAKNESS IS EMBARRASSING

BALTIMORE – As tens of thousands of revelers and bettors piled into rain-sodden Pimlico race course for the 128th Preakness yesterday, one big question hung over the festivities: How much longer will it last?

Racing in Maryland, once a thriving industry with a proud and long history, is all but on life support these days. Its two racetracks, Pimlico and Laurel, are rambling old shells, one step ahead of wrecking crews. They are, frankly, embarrassments. Their race programs, with few exceptions, are notable chiefly for the few horses competing for meager purses.

The climate is so bleak that some horsemen and officials wonder how long Pimlico can retain its hold on the Preakness, the second jewel in racing’s historic Triple Crown, and even whether Pimlico itself can survive.

This year, Maryland horse lovers thought they had finally hit paydirt. A new governor, Rep. Robert L. Ehrlich, favored the introduction of slot machines at the racetracks, a potential bonanza, that would pump millions of dollars into the racing industry, help finance major track renovations and assure the industry of not so much survival but prosperity.

Maryland desperately needs a cash cow to compete with neighboring racing states, like Delaware and West Virginia, which have slot machines, providing big prize money, which in turn attracts better-quality horses.

Then, as so often happens when politics intrudes into the private sector, everything went wrong. Gov. Ehrlich’s slots bill got derailed in committee when the House Speaker, Michael E. Busch, a Democrat, held it up, claiming it needed “a year of study.”

Maryland probably rivals only New Jersey in its bumbling ineptitude in legislating a viable racing environment.

When Maryland’s slot salvation went down the drain, Gerard E. Evans, a lobbyist for the state Thoroughbred Horsemen’s Association told the Baltimore Sun, “The Preakness would have been a party of worldwide repute, but now it’s going to be more like a wake than a race.”

The good news is that everything may not yet be lost. The Maryland Jockey Club, which owned Pimlico and Laurel, was recently sold to Magna Entertainment Corp., the leading owner and operator of racetracks in the country. It owns, operates or manages 15 tracks, including Santa Anita in California and Gulfstream Park in Florida, and owns an expanding off-track betting network and a 24-hour television network devoted to horse racing.

This is an outfit with big bucks, a vision for horseracing and a dedication to making it work. In buying Pimlico and Laurel, it got its hands on a track that hosts a Triple Crown event – the richest and most prestigious deal in horse racing.

Magna will not lightly let the Preakness slip through its fingers. It has pledged to keep the Preakness where it is and committed $15 million in improvements to Pimlico and Laurel.

Even if outsiders attempted to strip Pimlico of its Preakness heritage, it would face huge roadblocks. Under terms of a 1985 law, Maryland has first refusal rights to the Preakness, with an option to revoke Pimlico’s racing days if the Preakness were moved.

That means Magna – or anyone else for that matter – could not decide to move the Preakness out of Maryland and run it, say, at Santa Anita or Gulfstream.

The Preakness is the single biggest racing event in Maryland, which helps keeps its owners solvent. It is also a huge commercial hit for the city of Baltimore. Local businessmen estimate it pumps $60 million into the local economy in hotel, restaurant, bar and transportation spending.

Bookings are so heavy that hotels turn away thousands of guests every year. Nearly all the ancillary spending is done by out-of-town visitors.

Pimlico, despite its legendary association with the Preakness, hardly merits a race of such distinction. Whereas the Derby is run at awesome Churchill Downs, which is being upgraded by $100 million, and the Belmont Stakes is contested at majestic Belmont Park, the Preakness is run at an antiquated plant.

But somehow, on Preakness Day, the creaky old establishment comes to life. Nearly 100,000 people cram into its ramshackle grandstands and infield, determined to party and have a good time, while the race itself almost always delivers excitement, color and controversy. Somehow, it all comes together as a memorable, bust-out event.