As Suffolk Downs winds down for the actual last time for the last time (there have been a few Cher “Farewell” tour last times in East Boston), it’s sad to watch storm clouds gathering over the oval of my youth.  Interestingly I sit writing this from the Canterbury Park press box and watching our own storm clouds rolling in and threatening our card.  Apparently it was too much to ask for the last weekend in New England racing to bring bright skies for what promised to be an Irish wake, but instead will serve as a lasting metaphor for the long snakebit oval.

There are plenty of reminisces about Suffolk’s 84-year history.  The Boston Globe and Boston Herald have had their own as has Mike Watchmaker in a wonderful article in the Daily Racing Form.  My thanks go out to Suffolk’s Vice-President of Marketing, Jessica Paquette, and Railbird’s Jessica Chapel for getting all the latest news out to those of us native New Englanders that can’t be there to say farewell.

I never experienced Suffolk’s glory years.  I grew up in the late 70s/early 80s and my folks weren’t race goers.  It wasn’t an easy ride over to the track from my home in Peabody.  The mileage wasn’t far but the traffic through Revere was a nightmare.  They also ran during the day which made it even tougher.  The evenings in Revere belonged to Wonderland Greyhound Park where we did slip into on occasional Friday and Saturday nights (first winning wager: $2 show on Cuddles Puddles but I digress…).  Suffolk always loomed large and called to us.

Finally, in college, we made it there.  My friend Paul Mooney (read more about Stats here) and I made a few gambling tours of New England.  We’d leave Waterville, Maine and hit the greyhounds at Seabrook Friday night before heading to the spend the night at his folks’ place in Manchester-By-The-Sea.  The next day was Suffolk and Wonderland.  Sunday was Rockingham (depending upon the time of year) and then Scarborough Downs harness in southern Maine before making the ride back to Colby.

Suffolk was not what I expected it to be.  I expected the track to be a palace.  After all, that’s all I ever saw on TV was what appeared to be shining palaces like Churchill Downs, Santa Anita and Saratoga. Suffolk should be the same.  It was in Boston after all and if it was OUR place it HAD to be better than those other places.

It wasn’t.

Betting windows were boarded up.  Food outlets were closed.  The clientele was…interesting.

You know what else it was?

AWESOME!

I don’t even remember if I cashed a bet, though I’m guessing I didn’t.  My first thoroughbred racing bet was at Suffolk.  My first purchase of a Daily Racing Form was at Suffolk.  I loved the excitement, the color, the magic and, yes, the wagering.  That first afternoon I knew I was hooked on figuring out the puzzle, but the game didn’t fully get me until a big grey came along.

My first real “favorite” horse was a Suffolk horse, the immortal (to me) Waquoit.  He won the Grade 2 MassCap in 1987 outlasting Broad Brush.  He ran regularly at Suffolk and dominated the local stakes scene.  When he died at 24 in 2007 I was absolutely heartbroken.  While Suffolk introduced me to the joy of thoroughbred racing, Waquoit made me fall in love.

I followed all things Suffolk from Waquoit forward.  Paul and I made trips back again but after graduating from Colby in 1987, I never made it back. The brief sojurn I had living in greater Boston I was married to a restaurant for three years so I never go to the track.  When I left the restaurant, I was gone for good.  The last 14 years have been spent as Canterbury Park as my hometown racetrack.

I love Canterbury dearly.  I’ve been fortunate to really be able to pursue success as both an owner and turf writer here.  I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to do what I do and wouldn’t change it for the world but a part of my racing fandom died today.

Thank you Suffolk Downs – you may be Sufferin’ to some, but you were a palace to me.