Peace, exhilaration

Most of us are fortunate to have at least one "Happy Place" in our lives. One of mine, for the past 32 years, has been Box C808 on the finish line at Arlington Park. It wasn't about the money. I often joked that management would evict us if they knew how little we bet. It was about communing with friends; about wandering the grounds and chatting with pals whose names I never knew but so what; about absorbing the entirety of the grand distraction that was an afternoon in this palace of dreams.

And then there was this: never when I was there was I thinking about the outside world. I was in the moment. Me, my pals, the summer day, and the horses. It was peace and exhilaration, in perfect harmony.

I always thought Arlington Park would be one of the sport's few fortresses that would survive the culture-coarsening onslaught of casino gambling and sports betting. Surely, I assured myself, its expansive terraced views, sparkling marble, fresh-air friendliness, and up-close contact with one of God's most elegant creatures would win the day. And to an extent, it did. Over the years I introduced many people to racing as it was showcased at Arlington Park. They were always impressed. Stereotypes of old men in stained pants vaporized as they saw that the weekend crowd looked like the popcorn line at Frontier Days.

Before leaving the track on closing weekend, I stood before the statue of John Henry and The Bart. Against all odds, I silently prayed, let the spirit of John Henry find clear sailing along the rail and somehow save us all from this tragically avoidable and depressing finish. Yes, it's a 100-1 shot, but I like my chances. That's how we roll in C808.

Alan P. Henry

Deerfield