In hindsight, it was fitting that I first set foot on the grounds of
Hialeah Park and Race Track on a Sunday.
The trip was, after all, a pilgrimage.
I spent a sunny Saturday at nearby
Gulfstream Park, modern entertainment showplace, a Caesar's Palace on the Atlantic Coast, with live racing, to boot. And that experience was fantastic. I met interesting people as I watched and wagered on excellent racing. I took photos of the facility. And I realized while leaving that the fun would stretch well into the night, long past the end of the Sunshine Millions Day race card, as horseplayers took advantage of the well-appointed simulcasting facilities, casino patrons enjoyed their games of choice, and the restaurants and bars served fine food and drink.
On a Sunday that greeted me with somber skies, I drove from my hotel in Doral, Fla., to Hialeah Park. I arrived an hour before the 1 p.m. gate-opening time, slipped my rental car in through a back driveway, and negotiated my way past a friendly employee between me and the grandstand by playing him a phone message I'd received from Hialeah's Pete Aeillo, telling me to visit his office on the second floor upon arrival and I'd get all the help and access I needed.
I parked, climbed out of the car, and there she was. Though dormant for nearly a decade, weathered and far from restored, the grandstand of Hialeah Park rose proudly toward the gray sky. I walked through the open gates and experienced the same sort of feeling I'd expect upon entering an old church that had been abandoned by its congregation in favor of a newer edifice.
Though her luster has faded and nobody had worshiped here for the past eight years, Hialeah Park is still a house of the racing gods. The feeling was so strong that once during the day I paused and gave thanks for the opportunity to see Hialeah in action, and to pray for her continued survival and success.
Meanwhile, I snapped a few photos as I wandered up to find Pete's place. I bumped into him outside the small, second-floor space occupied by the employees of
Coady Photography, and Pete soon walked me to his office to obtain a pink media credential on a lanyard, receive a free Hialeah ball cap, and get the chance to meet track announcer John Lies.
Pete, though harried at times, is one of the more personable guys you'll meet, and couldn't come off as any more enthusiastic about his job at the resurrected racetrack. John seems to have a great attitude, an equally good voice, and a fine race-calling style that served Hialeah well in its opening seasons as a Quarter Horse racetrack.
In track owner John Brunetti's rebuilding process, whomever made the decision to hire those two guys made good choices.
I paused at the front of the grandstand momentarily, looking out toward Hialeah's infield lake, declared a sanctuary for the American flamingo by the Audubon Society.
Then, with press credentials around my neck, I made my way toward the back side, where makeshift barns of white canvas and modular stall systems stand in for the old Hialeah stables that were razed some time ago. Despite the makeshift resources and purses that were cut somewhat during the meet (something that's happened at a lot of tracks in this economy), sentiment on the back side was strongly positive. It seems the 2009 and 2010 Quarter Horse meets had been relatively lucrative and very competitive; trends that backsiders expected to continue.
"If you come back next (meet), better pack a lunch," said one man working in the barns. "The job won't be getting any easier."
On the front side, employees were fairly enthusiastic and universally professional and helpful. A pleasant excitement simmered among the decent-sized congregation of 3,196. Granted, that number of parishioners pales in comparison to the 27,000 who showed up for Hialeah's grand reopening in November. But considering the track was open in in direct competition on this day with glittering Gulfstream and its casino, restaurants and simulcasting, I can't fault Hialeah for the size of the crowd.
Remember, this comeback meet featured Quarter Horses, which Floridians haven't seen race in their state since 1991 at
Pompano Park, a harness track. And Hialeah operated without the ability to offer simulcast wagering, which even by the end of the 2010 winter meet, not all patrons had quite figured out.
"I punch 'Other Tracks' and still all it gives me is Hialeah Park," said one man to a friend as both stood at an auto-teller to place their bets.
Before too long, Hialeah will be hosting a poker room, adding some revenues to fuel further renovations. Simulcasting rights are scheduled to return, which will help attract bettors like the aforementioned patron, who don't just want to wager on Hialeah during a day at the races, but also on other tracks around the country. And a shrewd move by Brunetti fulfilled a legal requirement for two consecutive calendar years of race-meets by staging a "2009 fall meeting" and a "2010 winter meet" in immediate succession, from late-November through early February, letting Hialeah qualify to host slots and full casino gambling in 2011.
So Hialeah Park's comeback is well under way.
I pondered all this as I walked down an empty trackside apron, distancing myself from the crowd in the one-third of the grandstand that is open, while approaching the starting gates to photograph the horses breaking in The Sunshine Stakes.
As my feet shuffled, I kicked something and heard it scuffle along the concrete apron ahead of me. It was nothing important, I was certain, and I continued to walk.
Then, in a moment of sentimental clarity, I turned to look back at what my toe had booted. It was a chunk of concrete and aggregate, slivers of black and pink stone. An egg-sized hunk of Hialeah Park, I presume, probably fallen from the shuttered grandstand a few yards away.
That lump -- I consider it an artifact of racing history -- now sits on my mantel in North Carolina, next to a 60-year-old Life Magazine page featuring Citation's breaking of the all-time earnings record for a thoroughbred racehorse. The same Citation whose life-size statue stands watch over the patio and paddock area at Hialeah Park.
If you've ever clutched a wager ticket and prayed to the racing gods for divine intervention as the field turns for home, then whether you've ever set foot there, to you Hialeah Park should be sacred soil.
And if politicians, the racing industry's powers that be, horsemen, horseplayers and John Brunetti can continue to cooperate on the undeniably good work of restoring Hialeah Park, we will be able to watch and wager for generations to come as horses -- hopefully thoroughbreds, too -- rumble toward the finish line at these hallowed grounds.
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