image, via Emerald Downs

I know that I should probably be morally apposed to horse racing, but the Black Stallion books got to me as a wee girl, way before I had any such things as morals. As a result I’ve always had a romantic view of the track, of jockeys in silk and ladies in splendid hats.

Enter Emerald Downs.

It’s an unfortunate fact that the racetrack in real life isn’t anything like the racetrack in my head. (I don’t know why I expect romance in Auburn, but whatever.) The races are a family event, with lots of little kids and grandparents, sprinkled with the occasional fellow in a cowboy hat and boots. Each race lasts for a minute or so, and in between time everyone strolls around the grounds, drinking beer and taking pictures with the mascot. Nowhere in Emerald Downs on a Sunday can you find the sort of intensity that you expect from horse racing if you’re me. (The exception to this was when a horse named “Chicken Pot Pie” was running, and I think that everyone in the stands just really enjoyed shouting “Chicken Pot Pie.”)

I’m not very good at betting, basing my picks on the name of the horse and whether or not it’s a pretty color, but I can see where getting a look at the horse beforehand would help you decide which one to bet on. There are a lot of people that seem to know what they’re looking for, taking notes on their programs before heading off to lay their money down. And it is exciting when the horse you’ve bet on because it was a nice light grey comes from behind to win second place.

I don’t see myself becoming a horse racing afficionado, but the track was a nice way to waste one of the last Sundays of the summer. The season starts in April and ends around the beginning of October. You’re supposed to be at least 18 to bet, and most bets are a minimum of $2.