Despite less-than-optimal directions that got us lost, I remained undaunted: I was determined to get to Wonderland. After far too long in the car, my friend and I finally pulled into a mostly empty parking lot on a bleak and rainy Tuesday evening. We knew we had reached our destination.
Wonderland Greyhound Park is located near the shore in Revere, Mass. It offers live racing five nights a week, simulcast coverage, and wagering daily from noon until 1:30 a.m. With one of the country's most popular spectator sports in such proximity, I felt compelled to check it out.
Walking in, we bought a schedule of the night's races. This gray booklet was immense; it listed the eight dogs in each race, their respective odds, and numerous statistics about each greyhound's last seven races. In addition to times and finishes, the booklet included a little comment about each previous race, such as "early threat, faded."
The building itself featured small wager receipts scattered all over the floor, indicating the value placed on incorrect picks. The main parlor had a shelf with 35 televisions lined in a row, each with live coverage of races from around the country. There was never a moment when a race wasn't happening on one of these sets. Neon Bud Light signs glowed all around. While the announcer was running through a race lineup, my friend noticed the great number of lotto machines. I guess the assumption is that a gambler will take any gamble.
The crowd at Wonderland was mostly older men who were there alone but chatting off and on with fellow bettors. Many of them were overweight, clad in dirty jeans and jackets. In the 12 or so minutes between live races, a crowd flocked outside to smoke cigarettes and when they returned, they broke out their small bills to lay a wager before post time. During the races, "come on baby" echoed continuously throughout Wonderland.
My friend and I arrived just before the second live race of the night, and we headed outside to see the track up close. A tractor smoothed the dirt as the greyhounds were led to the gates. Each had its own pre-race ritual: some gnawed at each other like puppies, while another stopped to squat, maybe thinking that lighter would equal faster. The dogs certainly do fly around the track, though. That's for sure.
As a socially conscious aside, in the last decade, greyhound racing has come under fire, eliciting bans in such states as Maine, Nevada, and Idaho. GREY2K USA, a national anti-greyhound racing group based in Massachusetts, argues that greyhound racing is "cruel and inhumane." The group has made efforts to get the sport banned here and across the country. While pro-racing advocates claim that greyhounds are properly taken care of, and responsibly given up for adoption after their racing careers, critics see racing as exploitation of animals solely for money. Seeing the dogs in muzzles from beside the track and hearing them barking and yelping wildly in the gates did provide evidence of the critics' concerns.
Back inside and away from the front lines of the race, the sport seems more acceptable. We decided to try our hand at betting on the third race. There were far too many types of wagers for amateurs like us to understand, so we decided to keep it simple.
My friend and I both liked Bohemian Merlot at 15:1 odds, simply on name, but I decided to make safer bets, while my friend went for riskier ones. I went with Wild Susan (5:1) to win and Garden Garbo (9:2) to place, which means the dog could have finished first or second and I would win. My friend chose the long shot, Skidrow Cash (20:1), to win, and also played a Quiniela with Treight (4:1) and Garden Garbo, meaning that if these two finished first and second, in either order, he would win. For these first bets, we decided to go big with the minimum of $2.00 on each. Of course, neither of us won any money, and Bohemian Merlot took the race. What a way to break out of the gates!
In the fourth race of the night and our last, we were determined to win something. Here, my friend went with both LR's Rider (6:1) and Tybac (10:1) to win, and picked De Ruth (5:1) to place. I stayed with my sissy style, and went with O Boy Phil (6:5) to place and Dighton Gee (8:1) to show, meaning the dog needed to finish first, second, or third for me to win.
As the race was about to begin, we found ourselves rooting for a Tybac-Phil-Dighton finish with a few "come on baby 5-7-8 finish" calls. Two races in, we needed some cash. Right off, Tybac got squeezed between two other dogs and was a non-factor, as was Dighton Gee. O Boy Phil started off in the middle of the pack, but sped up towards the end, finishing second. Visions of dollar signs floated in my head.
I proudly took my receipt up to our sweet little lady teller, who promptly handed me three single dollar bills. I just laughed; the wager turned me a profit of one dollar. A two dollar bet on a 6-5 dog to place, what was I expecting?
In the end, my friend finished down 10 dollars, while I walked away a winner. Not only can I say I've experienced greyhound racing, but I also won money... uh, minus those other bets I lost.
Ben Swasey is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached via e-mail at benjamin.swasey@tufts.edu
