Now, after checking the form, LeClair thought a
dog named M’s Santa Bill looked like the one to
beat in this race. He almost laughed at the
sucker who’d already placed his bet, but then he
tried a little reassurance.“I’ll tell you
this much,” LeClair said. “If (PK’s) has a lead,
(Santa) ain’t going to catch him.”
LeClair’s day at the kennel started around
5:30 that morning, when he showed up to feed the
nearly 250 dogs he oversees at the two kennels
he owns.
Then he took the dogs — especially the ones
racing that day — out for some exercise (just
some jogging; greyhounds do little, if any,
between-race training).
After that, he went back home — he lives in
Hinsdale — until 11:30 or so, when he came back
to prepare that day’s racers for the 1 p.m. post
time.
After LeClair delivers the racers from his
kennel to the paddock and sees them weighed in,
he doesn’t have much to do — only state and
track officials are allowed near the track once
racing starts — except watch his dogs.
“You look for the way they stride around the
track,” LeClair said. “See how they come out of
the box, see where and when they go to the rail
and see if they want to run faster.”
If the dog does seem to want to run faster or
longer, and it’s in the -mile race, LeClair
might try the dog in a race. On the other hand,
if the dog seems to tire in a race, LeClair
might drop it down to the shorter distance.
At each distance, there are six levels of
competition: A, B, C, D, E and Maiden. A dog
competes in Maiden events until it wins its
first race. Then it moves up to the E class and
competes until it wins an E-level race. And so
it goes all the way up to the A-level.
Joe Sarsfield, the racing secretary, oversees
Hinsdale’s classifications.
“There are different rules for staying in a
particular grade,” Sarsfield said. “If you don’t
win for a certain amount of time (at a certain
level) you could be downgraded, things like
that.”
Sarsfield watches every race — with another
track official and a third, state-employed judge
— from a booth high above the track. He and the
other judges are charged with ensuring that
everything runs on the up and up, and they also
make the official, final calls on the order of
finish for each race.
LeClair doesn’t watch from a booth. He aligns
himself with the finish line in front of the bar
in the lower level, where he’ll keep an eye on
the races while he banters with regulars.
“It must be pick on Louie day,” someone says.
“It’s always pick on Louie day,” LeClair
says, laughing.
“I watch,” LeClair said. “You might be
talking to me, but I’m watching the whole race.
Ask me something about this dog tomorrow, I’ll
know where he (finished) and how he ran.”
That’s more than most dog owners can say of
their dogs.
Though he’s in charge of 250-some greyhounds,
LeClair doesn’t own any of them. He’s an
independent contractor. LeClair takes on an
owner’s dog, feeds it, houses it and races it.
If that dog wins a share of the purse — comes in
first, second or third — the owner gets 35
percent; LeClair gets the rest.
“Most owners see a dog as an investment,”
said Dave Calef, Hinsdale’s executive vice
president. “Half of them probably don’t even
know where their dogs are. Let’s say an owner
gives a dog to a trainer down at Lincoln Park
(in Rhode Island). Then that trainer doesn’t
think the dog is doing well at Lincoln, so he
sends it up here.
“Well, that owner could very well think his
dog’s in Rhode Island, until he gets a check
from Hinsdale, then he knows it’s in New
Hampshire.”
Other owners do follow their investments.
“Anthony Napolitano likes to come over for a
big stakes race and have dinner with his
family,” Calef said. “He follows the sport.”
Napolitano has owned dogs at Hinsdale for
years. Sometimes, he’ll even name his dogs after
Hinsdale regulars — like Securitymanmarty or
Blow ’em Away Bob.
The latter, LeClair’s namesake, ran in the
day’s 10th race, except he didn’t get too far.
Blow ’em Away Bob hadn’t made it to the first
turn before he spun around and started running
the wrong way. When that happens, one of the
handlers positioned around the track grabs the
dog and pulls it off the course to keep it from
getting injured. Handlers get $25 for each
recovery made.
LeClair keeps his two kennels full by talking
to the various contacts he’s made — other
trainers and some owners — throughout the dog
racing world.
LeClair got into dog racing when he lived
near Abilene, Kan., where the National Greyhound
Association is headquartered. He moved to
Hinsdale 11 years ago, bought his first kennel
and is now the track’s longest current operator.
There are six kennels at Hinsdale; all are
locally based.
LeClair runs his kennels with his two
daughters. Earl Kenyon, his daughter’s
boyfriend, is one of his trainers.
“My future son-in-law,” LeClair said,
chuckling. “He says never, but I say, ‘Sure.’”
LeClair and Calef are perched along the rail,
awaiting the start of the 12th race. LeClair’s
confidence in his dog this race hasn’t improved
much.
“If two beats me out of the box, I’m probably
dead in the water,” he said.
The dogs in their racing stalls hear the lure
— the stuffed bunny they chase around the track
— squeak into action on the far side, and they
let loose with yips and barks and howls.
“They’re getting excited,” Calef said. “They
know what’s coming, and they love to chase. But,
once the doors open — silence. There’s only the
sound of what I call the ‘thundering hooves.’”
Sure enough, the doors pop open and the
commotion is gone. The dogs sprint around the
track without a peep. Most of the noise comes
from the sidelines, as the three observers pull
for PK’s Giveittome — identified, in this race,
by his black No. 5 sash — to make it a race,
which he’s doing. On the backstretch, he’s in
fourth, but he steadily closes the gap on the
turn, and makes it into a real contest.
The dog LeClair was concerned about — M’s
Santa Bill, in the blue No. 2 sash — isn’t in
the mix. Instead it’s the Solas Rocky — in the
No. 1 red sash — PK’s is trying to hawk down.
PK’s closes and closes and finally catches Solas
— but just past the finish line.
“If he’s had 20 more feet, he would’ve won
going away,” Calef said.
“Twenty more feet?” LeClair said. “Hell, one
more step.”
The official results haven’t gone up on the
big tote board across the track yet. The red
“Photo” light is on, which means Sarsfield and
his crew will examine the picture — taken as
each dog crosses the finish line — before making
the final call.
Then the numbers go up 1-5-4. Just as we’d
thought, PK’s had been unable to catch Solas in
time.
“Well,” LeClair said. “At least it was
exciting.”
