Revenge of The Spa

🎙️ “Revenge of the Spa: Scratches, Excuses, and Uncle Festus”

I don’t know about y’all…But this whole NYRA procrastinatin’ with the scratches thing? Yeah, it’s already wearin’ me thin — and we’re only three damn days into the meet.

Like we say back home across the South:"It’s bullshit"And I ain't talkin' about livestock.I’m talkin’ about the "drag-your-feet-then-dump-everything-at-once-like-it’s-an-IRS-audit" kind of bullshit.

Now look, I don’t expect perfection. I really don’t. This is horse racin’, not space exploration — although, the way NYRA handles scratches, I’m pretty sure NASA could launch a rocket faster than these people can annouce a gelding from Race 5.

It’s like they’re sittin’ around in the press box playin’ a game of "Guess Who’s Actually Runnin’ Today?” and the only clue they give ya is:"Some horses are scratched… we just ain’t tellin’ you which ones ‘til brunch is over."

Y’all ever try to build a ticket — like, really dig in, do your due diligence, grind out the value — only to find out the field changed more than your cousin Randy’s relationship status?

Oh, that 8-horse turf field you built your whole day around?"Oopsie! We scratched four of ‘em. That’s now a 4-horse main track sprint featuring two horses with a combined record of 0-for-57."

And the best part? They act like it’s normal.Just part of the game.Like:"Well, gee, it rained a little and now the scratches come out like molasses."

No. That ain’t “part of the game.” That’s part of the problem.

Handicappers out here tryin’ to work, spendin’ money, runnin’ numbers, tryin’ to give people actual insight — and NYRA out here postin’ scratches like they’re tryin’ to win a procrastination contest judged by sloths.

And Equibase? Hell, by the time they update, the race is halfway over and the winner’s already pissin’ for the stewards.

I swear, if this is the pace they're settin’ three days in, by week two we’re gonna be gettin' scratch updates by carrier pigeon.

So yeah, NYRA —You wanna run one of the classiest, richest meets in the country?Maybe start by treatin’ your bettors and horseplayers like they actually matter.'Cause the horses might be runnin’,but the people makin' the damn wagers?

Yup. Here we go again — The Spa, that hallowed cathedral of thoroughbred racing, known as much for its tradition as it is for its ability to absolutely butcher race day scratches like a drunk butcher with a butter knife.

It’s like they run their business shruggin’ off responsibility like it’s that one outcast cousin with the mysterious skin condition. You know the one — lives in a trailer behind the Dollar General and smells faintly of Axe body spray and regret.

This ain’t racetrack management — this is Episode XXIV of Star Wars: The Revenge of the Spa — where the good guys (that’s us, the bettors) get force-choked by bad info and slow updates, and NYRA’s management plays the part of a latte-sippin’ Sith Lord just cruisin’ in around 9 a.m., thinkin’ they’re the heroes of the story.

Meanwhile, scratches don’t go up until 11 a.m., which, for those of you keepin’ score, is less than two HOURs before first post. And bulk of ‘em come AFTER that 11 a.m. mark, because what’s more fun than building a ticket just to have half your horses snapped outta existence by noon at lunchtime?

Final scratches? By the latest Noon? First post? 1:12.So that gives you, what — like 72-60 seconds to rebuild your entire approach before the gates open and you lose your rent money on a horse who was scratched an hour ago but no one told you?

And let’s talk about communication, shall we?

The actual decision to take races off the turf — announced at 8 A.M. by DRFGrening and Mark Hennig, who bless their hearts, are doin’ the job NYRA clearly can’t be bothered to do. NYRA themselves? They roll in an hour later, likely still adjustin’ their Patagonia vest and checkin’ Instagram.

Follow them good folks @DRFGrening and @Hennigracing, they may both save you some of the potato salad mimi made and angst in the process.

It’s like NYRA treats scratches the way Apple treats a product recall:“Oh, we’ll get to it… when we feel like it. In one batch. With minimal eye contact.”

Now me? I ain’t just playin’ — I’m workin’. I got horses picked for off-the-turf races. I got data that don’t scrub itself. And the minute those scratches start dribblin’ in like molasses in January, I gotta re-run the whole damn file, go through every pick, and then track down all the good souls who bought the product early like I’m a bounty hunter with a spreadsheet.

And of course, here come the emails:

“Hey Bruno, are you gonna update the product?”

Yeah. well I done did thunk it before hand and handicapped for two surfaces, I wasn't gonna wait for NYRA to join the rest of us in the 21st century and post scratches like it actually matters.

'Cause news flash: I got shit to do too. I ain’t just sittin’ around twiddlin’ my thumbs and polishin’ my binoculars, waitin’ for the royal scratch decree.

But they won’t change. They never do. Because for NYRA, this isn’t a customer service issue — it’s Sunday.

And that’s the damn problem. It’s not just annoying — it’s NOT ACCEPTABLE.It ain’t a viable business model — it’s a recurring disappointment dressed up as tradition.

But just like Uncle Festus, who still gets invited to the family barbecue even though he smells like a possum and once tried to sell hunting knives during the potato salad prayer — NYRA keeps showin’ up.

And we let ‘em.

But I’m tellin’ ya: One of these days, this house of cards is gonna fall — and it won’t be the bettors holdin’ the blame. It’ll be the folks who forgot that this whole game only works if people still wanna play.

And one last thing…

Who the hell spiked Todd Pletcher’s coffee this morning?!

Because let me tell you somethin’ — that man’s been more silent than a Baptist church during sex-ed week for damn near a month.

I’m talkin’ comatose.Sleepwalkin’ through the Belmont Festival, barely a pulse at Saratoga, and at that 4th of July thing?Hell, I thought he’d been replaced with a cardboard cutout and a clipboard.

I was startin’ to think Todd Pletcher was just on vacation —Or maybe he’d entered his “zen era” where he just stares out at the paddock like a retired yoga instructor named Craig.

But today?Oh no — today he’s back, baby.

Fires off THREE winners.Boom-boom-boom. Like he’s playin’ whack-a-mole with his rivals and finally remembered what the hell he does for a livin’ and the day is young.

I don’t know if someone slipped espresso into his mineral water, or if he just found out the prize money could actually pay for emotions again, but my man showed up like he’d been sleepin’ in a cryo-chamber since the Florida Derby.

And yeah, sure — maybe the scratches helped.Maybe the off-the-turf chaos opened a door or two.But still — THREE winners?!From “Missing Persons Report” to Trainer of the Day in 24 hours?

I NEED whatever the hell was in that cup.Folgers?Bulletproof?Moonshine laced with ambition?

Hell, I don’t care — just pour me a double.

Because if Todd Pletcher’s gonna go from tactical ghost to tactical genius overnight, maybe they should spike the NYRA's coffee pot as well.