Post by Peter Gross on Sept 29, 2010 6:50:07 GMT -5
I have done many things in the world of horse racing. I was once MC for the Sovereign Awards. They’ve actually given me a couple of those coveted trophies. I have driven in a few celebrity harness races. I was once second in a Woodbine media handicapping contest. I have been to a Breeders’ Cup, a Preakness and about 35 Queen’s Plates. But on Tuesday, September 28th, I fulfilled a huge fantasy.
All summer long, I was fortunate enough to be engaged by Ajax Downs to help with the broadcast of their Tuesday afternoon simulcast. I handicap the card with track boss Nick Coukos and I conduct post race interviews with the winning jockeys, owners and trainers. Nothing terribly difficult. On this particular afternoon, Coukos had a surprise for me as I stepped into his office.
“You’re calling the races today,” said Coukos with a huge smile. “Frank’s lost his voice.”
Frank Ferrari has been calling the quarter horse races for 25 years. Each race takes under 20 seconds. There’s no time to elaborate, to refer to the sire or the owner, or the trainer’s in the money percentage. Frank nails the first leader, picks out the horses making a late move and gets the winner and runners-up at the wire every time.
Me, I once called a six-furlong race at Woodbine and told all in attendance that the heavy favourite had won…even though a 25-1 shot had nose it out at the wire.
Fortunately, Frank was at Ajax Downs, sounding like the Godfather with a mouth full of gravel. My first task was to announce the changes.
“Welcome to Ajax Downs,” I said. “The first and most important change is that regular track announced Frank Ferrari has lost his voice and has been excused by the stewards. Peter Gross has drawn in off the also-eligible list.”
Now I think that Ajax Downs is brilliantly designed edifice. Live racing, off-track and slots all within a few yards of each other. But when they built this new building, they decided to ignore the requirements of the race caller. Between the announcer’s booth and the starting gate is a camera booth, which makes it impossible to see anything happening in the first 100 yards of a race.
What I had to do was watch the race on a monitor and just before the finish, swivel to see who’s at the wire.
Ferrari was in the booth with me, gesturing insanely at the tv set to point out the horses I should call and whispering through his gravel the names I needed. It worked out pretty well…except, perhaps for the 7th race.
The 7th was the shortest sprint of the day, a mere 250 yards and it took all of 13 seconds for Heza Quik Six to win it. Problem was I couldn’t figure out who took the lead from the start.
“Jshashoomm,” gurgled Ferrari. I panicked, I had no idea what he was saying.
“Jshashooooom!” he insisted and much too late, I realized the leading horse was Jesshazoom. There was a very uncomfortable 7 seconds of dead air which in a 13 second race was pure agony, for both me and the bettors.”
There were some moments I was proud of. In the second race of the day, there was a horse called, Gch Byall Means Luvy, in my opinion, the worst named horse in the world. I was worried that Gch Byall Means Luvy would run well, which means I would have to spend half the race getting through its name, and, indeed, Gch Byall Means Luvy led most of the way and come second and I called it three times, while realizing that Kipty Mac was coming on to win in the final 50 yards.
My biggest disappointment? In the fifth race there was a horse with the wonderful name of TouchmeIkeelyouuu. I did a funny South American dictator voice when I introduced him and intended to incorporate TouchmeIkeelyouuu frequently in the call of the race, but sadly TouchmeIkeelyouuu left 9th and stayed 9th and I was so busy calling Wind Dancer to win and Yawl Gone Fishing to place that I completely forget to try and find TouchmeIkeelyouuu.
I’m declaring my race calling debut a modest success. I base this on the fact that I was able to leave Ajax Downs without being physically assaulted by any irate fans.
All summer long, I was fortunate enough to be engaged by Ajax Downs to help with the broadcast of their Tuesday afternoon simulcast. I handicap the card with track boss Nick Coukos and I conduct post race interviews with the winning jockeys, owners and trainers. Nothing terribly difficult. On this particular afternoon, Coukos had a surprise for me as I stepped into his office.
“You’re calling the races today,” said Coukos with a huge smile. “Frank’s lost his voice.”
Frank Ferrari has been calling the quarter horse races for 25 years. Each race takes under 20 seconds. There’s no time to elaborate, to refer to the sire or the owner, or the trainer’s in the money percentage. Frank nails the first leader, picks out the horses making a late move and gets the winner and runners-up at the wire every time.
Me, I once called a six-furlong race at Woodbine and told all in attendance that the heavy favourite had won…even though a 25-1 shot had nose it out at the wire.
Fortunately, Frank was at Ajax Downs, sounding like the Godfather with a mouth full of gravel. My first task was to announce the changes.
“Welcome to Ajax Downs,” I said. “The first and most important change is that regular track announced Frank Ferrari has lost his voice and has been excused by the stewards. Peter Gross has drawn in off the also-eligible list.”
Now I think that Ajax Downs is brilliantly designed edifice. Live racing, off-track and slots all within a few yards of each other. But when they built this new building, they decided to ignore the requirements of the race caller. Between the announcer’s booth and the starting gate is a camera booth, which makes it impossible to see anything happening in the first 100 yards of a race.
What I had to do was watch the race on a monitor and just before the finish, swivel to see who’s at the wire.
Ferrari was in the booth with me, gesturing insanely at the tv set to point out the horses I should call and whispering through his gravel the names I needed. It worked out pretty well…except, perhaps for the 7th race.
The 7th was the shortest sprint of the day, a mere 250 yards and it took all of 13 seconds for Heza Quik Six to win it. Problem was I couldn’t figure out who took the lead from the start.
“Jshashoomm,” gurgled Ferrari. I panicked, I had no idea what he was saying.
“Jshashooooom!” he insisted and much too late, I realized the leading horse was Jesshazoom. There was a very uncomfortable 7 seconds of dead air which in a 13 second race was pure agony, for both me and the bettors.”
There were some moments I was proud of. In the second race of the day, there was a horse called, Gch Byall Means Luvy, in my opinion, the worst named horse in the world. I was worried that Gch Byall Means Luvy would run well, which means I would have to spend half the race getting through its name, and, indeed, Gch Byall Means Luvy led most of the way and come second and I called it three times, while realizing that Kipty Mac was coming on to win in the final 50 yards.
My biggest disappointment? In the fifth race there was a horse with the wonderful name of TouchmeIkeelyouuu. I did a funny South American dictator voice when I introduced him and intended to incorporate TouchmeIkeelyouuu frequently in the call of the race, but sadly TouchmeIkeelyouuu left 9th and stayed 9th and I was so busy calling Wind Dancer to win and Yawl Gone Fishing to place that I completely forget to try and find TouchmeIkeelyouuu.
I’m declaring my race calling debut a modest success. I base this on the fact that I was able to leave Ajax Downs without being physically assaulted by any irate fans.
