Out of commission(er)

The idea of a commissioner (or, in some circles, czar) of racing has gained major traction in recent months among many who bemoan racing’s myriad problems.

Indeed, it’s become somewhat of a holy grail, a catch-all solution for everything that anyone perceives to be ailing the sport. Horse breakdowns, drug rules, too many tracks racing too many days, bad marketing — whatever the peeve, a commissioner is deemed to be the answer.

The commissioner concept as it’s generally been described is essentially a major league of horse racing. Presumably, the league office would dole out racing dates, set drug and competition rules, manage marketing for the entity, negotiate television contracts and so on — all the things that, say, the National Football League central office does. In theory, it sounds attractive.

There are only two problems with the commissioner concept. One, it’s not going to happen, at least not any time soon. And two, even if it were feasible, it’s unclear that it’s truly advisable.

It’s not going to happen because there is no agency or organization with the credibility, authority, and will to make it happen. Racing is a big, messy, sprawling family; thoroughbred racing is conducted in 38 states, under a wide variety of regulatory and corporate schemes — for-profit, non-profit, quasi-government bodies, state and local fairs. Moreover, each track has its own set of stakeholders, including the hosting body (and sometimes there are more than one of these, such as Magna and Oak Tree, both of which run meets at Santa Anita), the horsemen, fans, breeders, etc. To bring all of these interests together under one umbrella would require either a really big stick, a really big carrot, or, best of all, both. There is no organization within racing that has remotely enough juice on either the carrot or stick side to force these interests together.

That leaves us with external actors, and the only one of any real significance is Congress. Congress certainly has the carrot, in the form of the Interstate Horseracing Act; through the application of penalties and/or the conditioning of participation in the IHA (and, therefore, simulcasting) Congress theoretically could turn the IHA into both carrot and stick and force the states to come to heel under a single governing umbrella.

While Congress loves to require states to act in certain ways in order to receive federal funds or participate in federal programs — this is, of course, how we’ve ended up with mostly uniform drunk driving and seat belt laws, as well as many others — the commissioner concept depends on bringing not just states but numerous private entities into the “league.” Moreover, it would also presumably require any new players in the game to enter the league, which could get sticky legally. It’s doubtful whether this is an appropriate (or, possibly, constitutional) use of Congress’ power, amounting as it does to a federal directive to private entities how to conduct their business (and not just for health and welfare reasons), and, more to the point, it’s a political non-starter. Even if Congress were so inclined — which it’s not — 38 racing states provide far more than the necessary votes in both houses of Congress to prevent what would be a significant transfer of power from the states to the federal government.

Congressman Ed Whitfield (R-KY) has suggested in a recent Paulick Report editorial (here) that the IHA could serve as the leverage to impose minimum standards. If Congress does anything — which is uncertain, given a spotty legislative calendar in an election year and the certainty that a new President and new Congress will want to make a mark (which likely won’t include IHA reform) in the early part of the new year — that would be the route they would take. Most likely, Congress would amend the IHA to require the states to adopt minimum drug and safety standards for thoroughbreds by a date certain, with the penalty for non-compliance being banishment from the IHA’s simulcasting regime.

Even if it were possible to create such a nationwide league, whether it’s a good idea or not is uncertain. Advocates point to leagues like the National Football League to demonstrate the benefits of forming a league, but the comparison is inapt. A league for horse racing, the argument goes, could improve horse and jockey safety and welfare and limit and control racing nationwide (i.e., fewer racing days at fewer tracks); in order to do so, the league would have to have some sort of governing control over every track in every state (so, for example, it could mandate that NYRA close its tracks during, say the first three months of the year, because those might be Philly Park’s dates).

In point of fact, there is no league that has the sort of power that advocates call for. In his Congressional testimony, Randy Moss suggested, “Imagine if the NFL were set up to permit each state to field as many pro teams as it wanted, play as many games as it wanted all year long, and set its own individual football rules with no enforceable league guidelines.” In fact, while the NFL is not set up this way, football as a whole is; anyone can decide to create a new league at any time, with any rules they want.

While all leagues depend in part on creating an artificial scarcity of the product — there would be, say, more pro basketball teams if anyone with enough money and an appropriate building could start one — not one of them has the ability to stop new leagues from forming. Indeed, the NFL, National Basketball Association, and National Hockey League have all faced upstart leagues within the last 30 or so years, with the NFL seeing a new competitor every 10 to 15 years or so. Obviously, it would be virtually impossible for racing to prevent new tracks from opening and cannibalizing prime racing dates.

Moreover, the breathtaking diversity of racetracks and interests would make the commissioner concept virtually impossible to implement. The truth is that racing is less like a “major league” and more like a major league and innumerable minor leagues, and no commissioner in any American sport has the ability to control every minor (and even major) league that might arise. The major league in racing would likely include, say, the NYRA tracks, Churchill, Southern California, perhaps Gulfstream. High minor leagues — say, Triple A — could include New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, Illinois, and the like. And so on down the line, until you get to places like Montana, where short fair meets are conducted in a few places. Harmonizing these different and often divergent interests would be virtually impossible; what’s good for, say, NYRA might not be good for Arapahoe Park. And the very concept of a league implies that the most powerful entities would give some things up for the good of the group; without major (and currently non-existent) incentives, it’s hard to see NYRA or Churchill Downs, for example, giving up prime dates because it’s Monmouth’s or Ellis Park’s turn.

All of this is not to say, however, that these are insurmountable obstacles to progress, simply that progress will be somewhat messier than we’d ideally wish. As I’ve written previously, the likely avenue of change is through a leveraged process in which major players achieve agreements, which then puts pressure on minor players to conform.

Ideally, all of the states which host Grade 1 races (seven by my count: New York, New Jersey, Maryland, Kentucky, Florida, Illinois, and California… am I missing any?) would enter into a compact that would enable them to harmonize their rules and regulations on a variety of issues; these would include drug and testing rules, competition rules, suspension rules and procedures, and health and safety of horses and people. Moreover — again, ideally — while I doubt any would be willing to give up racing days, they could at least synchronize their calendars to ensure adequate spacing of Grade 1 (or even all graded) races and perhaps to enter into cooperative marketing of major races.

Racing, as we all know, is a mishmash of fiefdoms with differing and often competing interests. Some of this is an accident of history, the result of racing’s unique development and traditions. But some of it is simply because, viewed in the proper sense, all sports are to some degree a mishmash of fiefdoms with competing interests. No doubt, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell wishes he could control all football leagues for all time; but he can’t, which is why there’s also an Arena Football League (a couple of them, actually) and, occasionally, a well-funded challenge to the NFL’s hegemony. The world is big enough for that, and when it’s not, the market imposes its own discipline.

So, too, for racing. The world is big enough to support both a high-class meet at Saratoga filled with expensive babies and a barebones meet at Yellowstone Downs, where allowance horses race for about two grand; if not, the market will make that clear, and one of them will cease to exist.

Still, the various sports leagues make clear the benefits that cooperation can bring. And while a nationwide racing commissioner for all racing is unlikely and probably undesirable, there’s nothing preventing (and much recommending) closer collaboration among the major racing states. These days, racing is a fractured, and fractious, lot, in which infighting takes the place of cooperation and coalition-building. That will need to change.

In the long run, perhaps, there will be a major league of racing, comprising the major racing states (which, of course, would still leave most states to their own devices). But that league will need to be — can only be — formed by the entities themselves, jointly agreeing to give up some of their own authority for the greater good. Change, as ever, must come from within; it can’t come from without.

Meanwhile, for racing fans fed up with a pace of change that can be charitably described as glacial, a suggestion: crawl before we walk. Rather than hoping for an all-powerful commissioner to save the day, let’s take the steps we can, namely, encouraging the major racing states to start to cooperate.