
DATE: Monday, August 25, 1997               TAG: 9708230103

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E1   EDITION: FINAL 

SERIES: Colonial Downs

        Post time for New Kent's horse-racing track

SOURCE: HOLLY A. HEYSER, STAFF WRITER 

                                            LENGTH:  111 lines

HORSE FANS RACE TO NEIGHBORING TRACKS

A HORSE RACE is no place for Cheeseheads.

Not that there's anything wrong with sports fans getting silly en masse.

It's just that horse racing - which comes to Virginia with the opening of Colonial Downs this weekend - delivers a fan experience vastly different from any other sport in America.

At the track, fans can get close enough to the action to smell the supreme athletes, see the glistening mud on the jockeys' silks and brush shoulders with dapper owners. In fact, the less you pay to get in, the closer you are to the action - the pricey seats are tucked away on the third and fourth floors, far removed from the rabble.

And at horse races, it's gambling - not bouncing cheerleaders or organists playing ``We Will Rock You'' - that dominates fan behavior. Whether it provokes frightening passion or dishes up pleasant distraction, it's imbedded in almost everything that happens at the track.

It's Monday at Delaware Park in Wilmington, Del., and as horses enter the gate for the fifth race, two 12-year-old girls perch on the edges of their seats.

You know the type: The kind who sketch horses when they should be taking notes in social studies, who read every book Walter Farley ever wrote, who swear - absolutely! - yes, they'll forgo scouts and softball and skating to shovel manure every day if only they can - pleeeeeeze, daddy! - have a horse of their own.

The girls wear T-shirts decked with Arabians and thoroughbreds, and their eyes glitter. ``We both ride horses,'' says Danielle Kowalski, as if she needed to explain.

``We like watching the horses, but we haven't won yet today.''

Won? Wait, isn't it illegal for children to gamble?

Of course it is, but Kowalski and her friend Anita Tringali funnel their bets through Kowalski's parents, Bob and Marcia Ross, who seem to regard the practice as some parents view allowing a sip of beer to their kids now and then. Sure it's not quite legal, but . . .

And perhaps the lessons are the same. ``What do they learn when they bet?''

``Not to bet,'' says the dad, laughing.

Some days, the show inside is as interesting as the one outside. It's a Saturday at Laurel Park in Laurel, Md., and the three Brothers Santill are turning heads inside the ``grandstand'' section. That's the cheapest section of the park to get into.

As often happens at tracks, a group of bettors is gathering under a television set that's about to show the very race taking place outside just a few hundred yards away. (You see, air conditioning often proves more alluring than the live equestrian spectacle. And for people betting on races going on at several tracks, proximity to a bank of TV sets matters more than being close enough to see flecks of foam on the horses' mouths.)

So the Santill brothers - a short, stocky thirtysomething trio - stand under the TV as the horses leave the starting gate in the eighth race. They quickly wind themselves into a frenzy, yelling, ``Go! GO!!!!'' and slapping their thighs rhythmically with rolled-up race programs. (It's a common sympathetic reaction among bettors that makes them feel as if they're whipping that horse along themselves.)

As the horses enter the final turn, the brothers' anxiety accelerates and their cries turn to ``No! NO!'' Fellow gamblers turn to watch them now instead of the race. Sure, everyone yells, but these guys are especially loud.

When it ends, one storms off, mumbling loudly about that horse costing him a couple thousand dollars. Yikes! His horse, Darlene's Friend, had come in second.

The entire family adores racing, explains Frederick Santill. His father once owned 14 horses, and he and his brothers still follow the business. They find themselves going to tracks where they know people who are racing horses - Delaware Park, Monmouth Park in New Jersey and Saratoga in New York.

``We plan a lot of our vacations around race tracks,'' said brother Ken Santill.

While the air at race tracks is electric during the races themselves, the atmosphere turns tranquil between races. In some viewing areas, even the race doesn't seem to rouse people much.

That's because race tracks - particularly on weekdays - draw a large clientele of men in their '60s, '70s and '80s. The Norman Rockwell reason is that those folks became fans during racing's heyday and still enjoy going to the track. Probe deeper and you'll find many who go to the track because they're lonely, bored and craving activity.

``My wife died some years ago, and I don't have much to do,'' says 87-year-old Vearl Phillips. It's a Friday afternoon at Laurel Park and he's watching races alone from the luxurious comfort of the Sky Suite, where track owner Joe De Francis entertains guests from time to time.

Phillips likes to handicap races, study all the available information and try to figure out which horse will win. It's not so much that he's a big gambler - ``I'm strictly a $2 bettor,'' he says. It's more of a mental exercise to keep his mind sharp.

``See,'' he says, pointing at the No. 4 horse in the program for an upcoming race, ``he's undoubtedly the best horse. But he hasn't raced since April. I bet on No. 1.''

Now that his wife is gone, the track also provides his main meal of the day. ``The food's very good,'' he says before turning his attention from the track toward a large TV set nearby where the race is about to begin.

He smiles slightly as the No. 1 horse crosses the finish line first. ``Well, I won that one. How about that?'' ILLUSTRATION: [Color Photos]

NHAT MYER

The Virginian-Pilot

Jockey Seth Martinez...

King Leatherbury, Bobby Strauss...

AT THE TRACK

NHAT MYER

The Virginian-Pilot

[Color Photos]

Darci Rice...