When I left my house on July 31st to drive to New Jersey for the weekend and attend the 100th Hambletonian, I thought something might happen on the trip that would provide a topic for this column. I was right.
What I was wrong about though, was in thinking that I’d find the ‘something’ I was looking for at the racetrack. I didn’t.
On the Friday evening - Hambo Eve - instead of attending the races, my son and I had planned (weeks in advance) to attend a concert, headlined by 84-year-old Bob Dylan and 92-year-old Willie Nelson, at a beautiful outdoor venue right on the water on Long Island, called the Jones Beach Theatre.
It was a great decision on our part, because despite a short 70 km drive taking well over two hours - as we expected it would on a Friday evening in August around NYC - it was a fantastic and very memorable ‘bucket list’ night.
I say bucket list because my son has been a huge Bob Dylan fan since he was quite young, and first heard the song, Like A Rolling Stone.
But even though Dylan’s voice was still better than expected for his age, it was Willie Nelson, performing last, who stole the show.
Upon reflection, both performances demonstrated something that harness racing could learn from. Neither man, at his age, is anywhere near his peak, but one left the crowd feeling valued and wanting more, while the other made me feel at least, like he didn’t really care how I felt, or if I ever came back again.
Bob Dylan, to the surprise of nobody familiar with him, was the latter. He had the large video screens turned off while he performed so nobody could really see him, he only sang a few of his biggest hits, he didn’t speak to the audience, and he gave me the distinct impression that he couldn’t have cared less what I really thought about the performance.
Willie Nelson on the other hand, poured his heart, and his personality, into his performance. He played all of his most popular songs, spoke to the crowd in a meaningful way, got us involved in the singing of some of those songs, and for me, personally, made me feel like I was spending a wonderful evening with my caring grandfather.
Neither man is probably overly long for this Earth, and I don’t believe that either needs the money, but one really made me feel like he cared about my experience, while the other made me feel like he could care less.
Sitting there, most of the way through Willie’s performance, the topic for my column became clear to me: The experience I’ve had visiting some tracks is the Bob Dylan experience, while my experience at others is the Willie Nelson one.
Harness racing needs more Willie.
The races aren’t going to be exciting every night, and the weather at the track isn’t always going to be great. We have some nights with too many winning favourites, and some nights with too few. We can’t control these things, but we can go out of our way to make sure our customers feel the way Willie Nelson made me feel.
How, you may ask? When the track operators control most of that experience, and when the ones in your area may be too Bob Dylan-ish?
Jody Jamieson does it every night, by interacting with the crowd at Mohawk.
Other drivers do it by consistently putting their horses in play, and making the bettors feel like they got a fair shake.
Our outback riders do it when they let fans pet their horses.
The last time you won a race, did you invite some kids from the tarmac into the winner’s circle and maybe even buy them a picture? Why not?
Please don’t make the mistake thinking that you can’t make a difference. You can. Everyone can.
Ironically, I was reminded of just that, shortly after returning from our Hambo weekend, when I returned our rental car to Enterprise, where I once again encountered ’MK’ - the new Assistant Manager there whom I had rented from a few days earlier.
MK’s customer service was excellent, which pleased me, because I knew that he had trained under another young man - Stewie - whom I had coached in hockey for two years when he was in his late teens.
You see, Stewie, my former player, had been the Assistant Manager at this same location for a number of years prior - I’d rented cars from him multiple times.
I’ll never forget one day while there, a few years earlier: As I watched Stewie help the kid in the back vacuum and wash cars, a few of the girls who worked for him told me that’s why they loved it there so much, because Stewie “treated them all equally, and he was the only manager they ever had who would actually help wash cars.”
I smiled at him upon hearing this and he said, “I learned that from you coach. That’s exactly how you coached us.”
My body filled with pride and my eyes may have even slightly welled up.
On this most recent visit to the same Enterprise, I watched MK - an immigrant from India, who was actually still in high school on the other side of the world when I was coaching Stewie 7-8 years ago - help the grateful kid in the back wash and vacuum cars. “Stewie taught me this,” he smiled, when I asked him why the Assistant Manager was vacuuming cars.
It was another moment I’ll never forget.
We can all make a difference - one person at a time.
Stewie and MK both have a LOT of Willie Nelson in them, and they’re displaying it as they climb the ranks at Enterprise.
What about you? Do you have a little bit of Willie in you? Because our business could use it.
And no… I’m not talking about the smoking weed part of Willie either!
Dan Fisher
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