“The average niceness of the consignors is about 10 times higher than the trainers.”
That was from 17-year-old Alec DiConza. The soon-to-be high-school senior returned for his second summer at Saratoga this year. He was laughing as he said it.
With a gaggle of interns – Fin Maroney, Julia Reedy and the newly added Miles Clancy – the foursome hit the sales grounds Friday afternoon. A New York-bred sale preview as their assignment. They made a list of consignors, listened to list of instructions, rehearsed their questions and set out to make a difference. A difference at The Special and maybe, just maybe, a difference in Thoroughbred racing.
Everyone was nice – evidently 10 times nicer than the trainers – except for one.
One consignor was short and rude. At this point, we consider that a win, out of a big two-day sale, one scoffer, one belittler, one stifler. And, yeah, we nailed which one it was in one guess. But, hey, we’ll take it.
But should we?
In the office a few days ago, the interns discussed how they’ve been treated so far this summer. For the most part, they’ve been met with graciousness, patience and politeness as they learn the ropes of interviewing and writing. But not always. Sadly, there are always a few.
I told them the story of my first real gig as a turf writer. The winter of 1997-98, covering the Gulfstream Park beat for The Blood-Horse. Whew, was I in deep as I tried to follow the 3-year-olds in Florida. A once-a-week story for this new thing called a website. For me it, was big. Neil Howard tried to control and cajole Lil’s Lad. Shug was doing the same with Coronado’s Quest. Wayne Lukas was trying to rev up Cape Town. I loved talking horses with them.
Then there was the morning I stopped by to see a Hall of Famer about a developing 3-year-old. I knew how to pick my spots, it was late morning, training was over, a dark day, no races, no sales, no time crunch. I didn’t barge into his barn, I waited outside, way out on the apron, as he leaned on a saddle stand and talked on his phone. So far away, I couldn’t even hear his phone call. Then I heard it. A bellow. And a hand raised in the air, a hard hand like he was stopping a runaway bus.
“Goodbye…Goodbye…Goodbye.”
I turned around to see who he was talking to, who he was berating, who he was demeaning. Surely there’s a Mormon missionary, an IRS auditor, an encyclopedia salesman, maybe all three, onrushing his barn like ants to a picnic.
There was no one in sight. I looked back at the Hall of Famer, sliding from the pedestal where I had once held him. His hand was still in the air.
“Goodbye…Goodbye…Goodbye.”
I slinked away.
Nowadays, that Hall of Famer is low on horses, down and almost out, he stops and tries to drum up a conversation. I chat, make small talk, even asked for his signature for Miles’ book a few summers back. But, man, that day at Gulfstream Park still chaps. Still resonates. Still hurts.
Not for me and not for him. But for the sport.
The cliches are cliches, the adages are adages, because they ring true.
Be nice to the ones you see on the way up because they’ll be the same ones you see on the way down.
I’m sure the Hall of Famer doesn’t remember the kid he kicked to the curb so many years ago. And it’s not about that Hall of Famer. And it’s not about that kid. It’s about today.
Think about The Saratoga Special intern who has been sent by Joe, Tom or I to interview you. Ask you questions about your horse, your life, your career. Before a big race or after a big win. And, sure, we’ll make mistakes, ask inane questions and perhaps we’ll come at the wrong time, but what an honor. Someone wants to talk to you, wants to publish something about you, about your horse, about your sport.
At the very least, be nice, just so you can feel good when…
You see Quint Kessenich on the sidelines covering college football on ESPN. Yeah, he was our first intern of the stars.
When Travis Stone calls the Kentucky Derby. In college, he picked up The Special off the ground in the picnic area and asked how he could get into racing. He practiced calling races from the rooftop and wrote recaps every afternoon.
When Ryan Jones runs for office. He was here, liked the game and wanted to improve his writing. He stops in every summer, a racing fan, a potential political friend, who might make a difference one day down the line.
When you see Gabby Gaudet on TVG. She was here, cowboy boots and stories to tell. Out of school, she wondered if she wanted to work in the sport her parents had devoted their lives to or do something in the real world. We’re glad she chose the former and the sport is better for it.
When John Panagot calls you about riding Manny Franco or Florent Geroux in the weekend stakes. John emailed The Special, in college, wanted to be a jocks’ agent. We tried to talk him out of it – be a writer, be a trainer – and luckily for him, he didn’t listen.
Mulvihill, Nadeau, Spivey, Brennan, Woods, Smith, Williams, Fornatale, Scatoni, Hill, Martin, Eddy…and the list goes on and on. Kids who started here and moved on to make a positive impact on the sport, on the world.
Try to be 10 times nicer. Ten times nicer than everybody else. For the kid’s sake. For the sport’s sake.
