“A racehorse is an animal that can take several thousand people for a ride at the same time.”
(anon)
Many citizens of Japan, like millions of their counterparts in other Asian countries, love a flutter. They will make a wager on all manner of things, with mahjong, pachinko, and boat and bicycle racing being firm favorites, but the horses are most definitely at the top of the list when it comes to raising the heart rate and emptying the pocketbook. But where to head to for that gambling fix? Unlike their more well-heeled cousins over at the Japan Racing Association, the National Association of Racing (NAR) chiho keiba tracks are a definite step down. Not for them the lush turf, flashy facilities, and international connections that draw big crowds and even bigger revenues. No, the chiho keiba are truly local, just like their loyal clientele and the nags that stampede around their short, rough ovals. To some, the retro feel of the not so grandstands, the tired and worn food and drink outlets, and other limited attractions is absolutely charming. To others, charm and retro can easily be translated into rundown and crap. Likewise, a fair number of the punters who populate these fields of dreams are often as poor as the dirt their four-legged hopefuls race on. All manner of lifeforms congregate here. For unlike the JRA meets that are held solely on the weekends, inviting an amalgam of amateur fun and thrill seekers eager to squander their pocket money, NAR does its business through the week only. For many of the attendees here, it’s more a case of win, lose, or die trying.
Late on one particular Wednesday afternoon at such a course, a trio of punters are sitting at a tiny, knee-high table, not intentionally ignoring each other, just uninterested in engaging in conversation with another soul. On the tabletop and the floor around it lies an assortment of incorrectly completed betting slips, newspaper pages, and discarded losing tickets. A number of other similar tables, surrounded by equal amounts of detritus, squat nearby, all with their own ragtag collection of patrons, laser-focused on the task at hand. Picking a winner or two. Studying the form for the final outing of the day, with each claiming their own method for ensuring success.
The senior citizen in the baggy, cotton tracksuit and rubber bathroom slippers relies solely on a non-digital approach and has spread out the pages of his racing newspaper across the small surface, restricting access to the sticky laminated area to the other two. The youngish woman with the sleeping toddler in a stroller is all about what advice is forthcoming from an AI search on her smartphone. And the greying, 50-year-old male, wearing a bland expression to match his suit, shirt and tie combination, is gazing forlornly at the giant electronic information board high above the paddock, trying to work out what the hell it all means. He is relatively new to the game. How can these three souls be in any way connected? But connected they are. By ambition, hope, and no small measure of desperation.
Tracksuit guy diverts his attention from the runners in race 12 to glance over at the young mother next to him. He huffs out a disdainful half laugh when he notices the selection she is penciling in on her betting slip. Number 6 to win?! It’s the rank outsider, for crying out loud, about 140–1 with the odds still rising. And she’s put 2,000 yen on it! He locks eyes with suit and tie opposite, and with a little nod in her direction and a roll of his peepers, indicates his amazement at her typical beginners’ faux pas. Suit and tie offer a conspiratorial smirk in response, not because he understands what the veteran gambler is on about, but it just seems the right thing to do. In all honesty, he was just about to make the same bet. Now, he is going to settle for a place bet on number 10, instead. As the buzzer sounds for final bets to be made, the three of them jump up and head over to the nearby bank of betting/payout machines, the greedy cash gobblers that manage the financial transactions at the track. Each of these devices sees plenty of action throughout any given race day, snatching proffered notes and coins, before spitting out the betting tickets that can make or break someone’s day. Then down to trackside, and they are off!
A short time later, a steady stream of punters can be seen making their way from trackside to the exits. The racing now over for the day, the majority join the line that is snaking its way towards the car park, buses and train station, while a few lucky ones head back in the direction of the payout windows. Tracksuit and suit and tie amble along with the rest of the losers, head down and lost in thought. Tracksuit will return to his one-room apartment, crack open a can of cheap beer and feast on the finest microwaveable offering from the convenience store on the corner. Suit and tie will try and time his arrival back home in suburbia to maintain the façade of working overtime at a job he had lost two months before, still unable to summon the courage to tell his wife and kids about the dire situation they are in. Neither of them, however, notices the mother and child in conversation with a track employee at a payout window. Nor do they witness her receiving a large wad of cash in a plain envelope. The gleam in her eye and the smile playing on her lips, as she considers the amount in junior’s college fund now, and how she might treat herself to a new pair of shoes. She wishes she had cottoned on to this betting lark a long time ago.
Kevin Ramsden lives in Kyoto, Japan, where he is a professor of global studies. His short fiction has appeared in journals and magazines in Japan, the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, and elsewhere. He is the author of the short-story collection Here Comes Kenji: Stories from Contemporary Japan. Outside of writing, he enjoys listening to reggae and complaining about the performances of West Ham United Football Club.
Visit his contributor page for social links and where to find his book Here
Cool😎
Thank you Kevin for this bit about the horses. As usual with your work it’s brilliantly written, insightful, and surprising. I have been involved with horse racing in Japan for more than 20 years and never heard anything about the NAR chiho race tracks. Wow! How did I miss this? Thanks again for shedding some light on this relatively unknown topic.