This is a special time of year for sports fans. The morning dew
clings to the dogwood trees and the bluebirds chirp and flutter.
The forsythia and azaleas bloom everywhere, and the sun gloriously
drapes the endless green of rolling hills. More than who wins or
loses, and at no other moment in the sports calendar, this is a
time to reflect on the sheer loveliness of nature in the context of
the sporting world.
Forgive me if you think I’m referring to The Masters, just
getting underway in beautiful Augusta. The Masters is a fine little
event, and its links justly praised for their natural splendor.
What I actually have in mind, though, is Keeneland Race Course
in Lexington, Kentucky. Keeneland isn’t merely the prettiest locale
in sports, it might just be the prettiest place in America (hell,
the Sycamore-lined parking lot is one of the prettiest
spots in America). On top of that, in few places will you find a
better example of what is meant by the term Gracious Southern
Living.
Thoroughbred horse racing in this country suffers a paradox. We
know it as the Sport of Kings, but racetracks as a rule are rundown
and seedy, with a clientele that is even seedier. About the only
thing smacking of royalty at a racetrack is a well-chewed King
Corona Cigar dangling from some railbird’s lower lip. And in a lot
of ways, the low-rent atmosphere is much of the charm of going to
the track.
There are several mild exceptions to this — Saratoga, Monmouth,
Del Mar, and Santa Anita are beautiful, and Churchill Downs on
Kentucky Derby Day is a treat (as long as one avoids the notorious
infield). But no racetrack comes closer to living up to the Sport
of Kings obligation than Keeneland.
Most of the year it lies empty. Keeneland offers live racing for
only a few weeks in April and a few more in October. April is the
prettier time.
And when the crowds do collect at Keeneland, it is unlike any
other racing experience, largely because of the fans who show. Like
at football games at the big SEC schools, the crowd for a day at
the races generally dresses up —coats and ties for the gentlemen
and dresses for the ladies. Just as one wouldn’t attend the opera
in cutoffs and a T-shirt, one wouldn’t think of going casual to
Keeneland.
The immaculate natural surroundings demand a crowd dressed to
the nines. They’ve been racing at Keeneland since 1936 at a cozy
little track landscaped to fit inconspicuously into 900 acres of
the lush Kentucky countryside. And since that meet more than 65
years ago, they’ve been coming to this track to pay tribute to all
that is elegant and noble and stylish in horse racing.
This elegance sets Keeneland apart from the other ovals around
which horses run. Sure, the grounds are faultless. Its stone wall
clubhouse exterior and the breathtaking tree-shaded paddock are
worth making the trip, even if you don’t see a single race. But
it’s more than that. In a word, Keeneland has class, which is
reflected in the way they do things — understated and refined.
There are some that think even this refinement is under threat
at Keeneland, which has been unable to fully resist the currents
that over time have worn away a few of the charming eccentricities
of this jewel of racing. For decades Keeneland had no winner’s
circle, a staple at every other track. The winning horse would be
feted in a small ceremony on track, at the finish line.
Understated. Then in 1984 Keeneland was paid a visit by the world’s
most famous horseplayer and owner — England’s Queen Elizabeth. In
her honor, Keeneland carved out a winner’s circle, and in so doing
wiped away a small part of what made the place distinct. Most
winners are still recognized on track, in the old fashion, but
still, there’s no escaping the fact the place had been
blemished.
Another feature that once distinguished Keeneland was the
absence of a track announcer. Horses would burst from the starting
gate unaccompanied by the traditional call, “And they’re off!”
Instead of the fast-paced running commentary over the public
address system common at all other tracks, the races at Keeneland
would be run in a strange silence. Only gradually, as the horses
entered the stretch run, would the rising hubbub from the crowd
boil into full-throttled cheers. It was peculiar, sure, but it was
Keeneland’s peculiarity and as such was grand.
In 1997, however, Keeneland threw out this charming tradition,
hiring a track announcer and becoming like every other racecourse
in America — that is to say, like nothing special.
Despite such efforts, Keeneland will have to work a lot harder
to actually become nothing special. It simply is too sublimely
lovely a place, its habitués imbued with all the attributes
of good taste and fine breeding (naturally). Keeneland may exude
upper-crustiness, but (refreshingly) without the phoniness or
haughtiness of, say, New York society. The bluebloods in the
Bluegrass State have manners, and their graciousness extends to
out-of-staters, be they Saudi princes just in from Riyadh (a
considerable power bloc in horseracing circles) or
two-dollar-to-show punters from nearby Tennessee or Ohio.
So when the winter yields each year, and you have a mind to
breathe deep and glory in the riot of spring, forget those thoughts
of scalping tickets to that duffers’ convention down in Augusta.
Make your way to Lexington, instead. You might even meet with some
success at the betting windows. But even if you don’t, you can’t
really lose. Keeneland is one place in America where you can leave
without a cent in your pocket but still be up for the day.
