November 1, 2006
Imagine if you owned a business and 20 to 30 percent of your work force called in sick one day, out of the blue. Imagine if you found out after the initial shock that 90 percent of those workers weren’t really sick at all, that they were just staying home to be on the safe side.
Now you know what it must feel like to try to run a racetrack during an outbreak of equine herpes in your own backyard. Now you know how a 10-horse field at the Meadowlands can be reduced to a race with two horses competing against each other so that one might return $2.10 on a $2 bet.
This is one way to look at the recent quarantine situation at Monmouth Park, where about 1,100 horses are stabled.
The racetrack operators understand, of course. Equine herpesvirus, which may sound benign enough, can actually kill a horse. We’re not talking cold sores. Three infected horses had to be put down in Maryland over the winter, for example.
There have been outbreaks in Kentucky and Florida, with fatalities. Not long ago 30 mares in Australia were infected, causing them to abort their foals.
It’s serious stuff. Statistics don’t do this highly contagious and slippery disease justice either, because no one knows for sure just how many horses have died over the years as a direct result of it.
The people who put on the racing for the Sports and Exposition Authority will somehow muddle through what remains of the Meadowlands thoroughbred meeting. They are used to muddling. Now consider what the horsemen are going through.
Tom Swales runs the Tee-N-Jay Farm in Monroe Township, “the last full-service thoroughbred farm in Middlesex County,” he might add.
His horses are all home-bred. His trainer is Tim Hills, who’s stabled in Barn 17 on the Monmouth Park backstretch. Ten days ago it was discovered that there were some sick horses living right next door, in Barn 18.
From Canada?
Two horses shipped down from a farm in Canada had apparently brought the virus with them, although they never tested positive for the dangerous form of equine herpes, the neurological form. A horse on that farm was later found to be suffering from that deadly strain of the disease and had to be euthanized.
Meanwhile, at Monmouth, you now had horses trained by Justin Nixon, John Forbes and Bill Anderson in the same barn, Barn 18. Some of Anderson’s horses are in Barn 17. Since the people who work for Anderson take care of all his horses, there’s reason to believe the ones in Barn 17 might have been exposed as well.
What does this mean to the racetrack?
“Between them, those four trainers are good for 10 entries a day, minimum,” says Mike Dempsey, the racing secretary.
What does it mean to Tom Swales?
“I’ve got four horses who were supposed to run at the Meadowlands, and they were all sitting on wins,” he says. One would’ve been the favorite in the Garden State Handicap. Another broke his maiden by 7 lengths. The other two were primed and ready to break their maiden, he insists.
Whether his glass is half-full or not, Swales has to be feeling the effects of the quarantine. It’s simple, really: He still has to pay his bills and there’s no money coming in. Also, as he points out, “losing potential breeding awards places a tremendous economic burden on the farm.”
Other problems
There are other potential problems. Such as, what happens if the contaminated area isn’t cleared by the time Monmouth gets ready to close the backstretch, before winter comes to a place that isn’t winterized? Such as, what happens when the trainers who normally go to Florida get stuck here on account of the quarantine and lose their stalls at Gulfstream Park, or wherever?
Then there’s the other aspect of this situation, the scarier one.
If Justin Nixon hadn’t alerted his veterinarian to the problem as soon as he discovered there was one, and if the vet, Bill Keegan, hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did, there is no telling what might have happened.
“Dr. Keegan shut the gates at Monmouth four days before we had a positive come back,” says Nixon, who trains horses for Canadian businessman Frank Stronach.
“As far as I’m concerned, we were four days ahead of the curve.”
“I was just making my rounds that Sunday morning and when I got to Justin’s barn, he told me he had five horses who spiked a fever overnight,” Keegan recalls. “Horses spike fevers all the time, but typically you don’t get five in one barn, not on the same day.”
Time to act
Keegan, who looks in on roughly 250 horses for 17 or 18 trainers, got on the phone and spoke with the vet in Canada, at Stronach’s Adena Springs Farm. That’s where they had to put the horse down the week before. Soon he realized it was time to act. There were too many horror stories about this disease.
“Once this virus rears its ugly head, everyone has to take every precaution possible, in dealing with the sick horses as well as the other horses that are there,” says Lou Raffetto, the chief operating officer for the Maryland Jockey Club, another outpost of the Stronach empire.
The disease reared its ugly head in Maryland on Jan. 2, and tracks down there weren’t completely cleared to do business again until March 8.
“You’re like a leper when this happens,” Raffetto says. “No one wants to have anything to do with you. We lived that — but you can’t be too cautious.”
This must have been what Bill Keegan was thinking that Sunday morning 10 days ago when he closed down the Monmouth Park backstretch.
“Knock on wood, we’ve been lucky so far,” he says now.
“This is the kind of thing that could affect the whole Eastern Seaboard. If you had the perfect storm, it could’ve been disastrous.
“This is an easily communicable disease. It’s like someone said, “It’s only going to take one dirty hanky to spread this.’ A groom gets it on his shoe and walks from one barn to another, and that’s all it takes.”
Then Tim Hills sends a horse up to New York and Bill Anderson runs one at Philadelphia Park and John Forbes has a couple in at the Meadowlands, and next thing you know, you’ve got that perfect storm — which is why it took more than dumb luck to avert a more serious crisis.
Would any vet have done the same thing Keegan did?
“I like to believe so,” he says. “I just did my job.”
Australia were infected, causing them to abort their foals.
It’s serious stuff. Statistics don’t do this highly contagious and slippery disease justice either, because no one knows for sure just how many horses have died over the years as a direct result of it.
The people who put on the racing for the Sports and Exposition Authority will somehow muddle through what remains of the Meadowlands thoroughbred meeting. They are used to muddling. Now consider what the horsemen are going through.
Tom Swales runs the Tee-N-Jay Farm in Monroe Township, “the last full-service thoroughbred farm in Middlesex County,” he might add.
His horses are all home-bred. His trainer is Tim Hills, who’s stabled in Barn 17 on the Monmouth Park backstretch. Ten days ago it was discovered that there were some sick horses living right next door, in Barn 18.
From Canada?
Two horses shipped down from a farm in Canada had apparently brought the virus with them, although they never tested positive for the dangerous form of equine herpes, the neurological form. A horse on that farm was later found to be suffering from that deadly strain of the disease and had to be euthanized.
Meanwhile, at Monmouth, you now had horses trained by Justin Nixon, John Forbes and Bill Anderson in the same barn, Barn 18. Some of Anderson’s horses are in Barn 17. Since the people who work for Anderson take care of all his horses, there’s reason to believe the ones in Barn 17 might have been exposed as well.
What does this mean to the racetrack?
“Between them, those four trainers are good for 10 entries a day, minimum,” says Mike Dempsey, the racing secretary.
What does it mean to Tom Swales?
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“I’ve got four horses who were supposed to run at the Meadowlands, and they were all sitting on wins,” he says. One would’ve been the favorite in the Garden State Handicap. Another broke his maiden by 7 lengths. The other two were primed and ready to break their maiden, he insists.
Whether his glass is half-full or not, Swales has to be feeling the effects of the quarantine. It’s simple, really: He still has to pay his bills and there’s no money coming in. Also, as he points out, “losing potential breeding awards places a tremendous economic burden on the farm.”
Other problems
There are other potential problems. Such as, what happens if the contaminated area isn’t cleared by the time Monmouth gets ready to close the backstretch, before winter comes to a place that isn’t winterized? Such as, what happens when the trainers who normally go to Florida get stuck here on account of the quarantine and lose their stalls at Gulfstream Park, or wherever?
Then there’s the other aspect of this situation, the scarier one.
If Justin Nixon hadn’t alerted his veterinarian to the problem as soon as he discovered there was one, and if the vet, Bill Keegan, hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did, there is no telling what might have happened.
“Dr. Keegan shut the gates at Monmouth four days before we had a positive come back,” says Nixon, who trains horses for Canadian businessman Frank Stronach.
“As far as I’m concerned, we were four days ahead of the curve.”
“I was just making my rounds that Sunday morning and when I got to Justin’s barn, he told me he had five horses who spiked a fever overnight,” Keegan recalls. “Horses spike fevers all the time, but typically you don’t get five in one barn, not on the same day.”
Time to act
Keegan, who looks in on roughly 250 horses for 17 or 18 trainers, got on the phone and spoke with the vet in Canada, at Stronach’s Adena Springs Farm. That’s where they had to put the horse down the week before. Soon he realized it was time to act. There were too many horror stories about this disease.
“Once this virus rears its ugly head, everyone has to take every precaution possible, in dealing with the sick horses as well as the other horses that are there,” says Lou Raffetto, the chief operating officer for the Maryland Jockey Club, another outpost of the Stronach empire.
The disease reared its ugly head in Maryland on Jan. 2, and tracks down there weren’t completely cleared to do business again until March 8.
“You’re like a leper when this happens,” Raffetto says. “No one wants to have anything to do with you. We lived that — but you can’t be too cautious.”
This must have been what Bill Keegan was thinking that Sunday morning 10 days ago when he closed down the Monmouth Park backstretch.
“Knock on wood, we’ve been lucky so far,” he says now.
“This is the kind of thing that could affect the whole Eastern Seaboard. If you had the perfect storm, it could’ve been disastrous.
“This is an easily communicable disease. It’s like someone said, “It’s only going to take one dirty hanky to spread this.’ A groom gets it on his shoe and walks from one barn to another, and that’s all it takes.”
Then Tim Hills sends a horse up to New York and Bill Anderson runs one at Philadelphia Park and John Forbes has a couple in at the Meadowlands, and next thing you know, you’ve got that perfect storm — which is why it took more than dumb luck to avert a more serious crisis.
Would any vet have done the same thing Keegan did?
“I like to believe so,” he says. “I just did my job.”
Australia were infected, causing them to abort their foals.
It’s serious stuff. Statistics don’t do this highly contagious and slippery disease justice either, because no one knows for sure just how many horses have died over the years as a direct result of it.
The people who put on the racing for the Sports and Exposition Authority will somehow muddle through what remains of the Meadowlands thoroughbred meeting. They are used to muddling. Now consider what the horsemen are going through.
Tom Swales runs the Tee-N-Jay Farm in Monroe Township, “the last full-service thoroughbred farm in Middlesex County,” he might add.
His horses are all home-bred. His trainer is Tim Hills, who’s stabled in Barn 17 on the Monmouth Park backstretch. Ten days ago it was discovered that there were some sick horses living right next door, in Barn 18.
From Canada?
Two horses shipped down from a farm in Canada had apparently brought the virus with them, although they never tested positive for the dangerous form of equine herpes, the neurological form. A horse on that farm was later found to be suffering from that deadly strain of the disease and had to be euthanized.
Meanwhile, at Monmouth, you now had horses trained by Justin Nixon, John Forbes and Bill Anderson in the same barn, Barn 18. Some of Anderson’s horses are in Barn 17. Since the people who work for Anderson take care of all his horses, there’s reason to believe the ones in Barn 17 might have been exposed as well.
What does this mean to the racetrack?
“Between them, those four trainers are good for 10 entries a day, minimum,” says Mike Dempsey, the racing secretary.
What does it mean to Tom Swales?
“I’ve got four horses who were supposed to run at the Meadowlands, and they were all sitting on wins,” he says. One would’ve been the favorite in the Garden State Handicap. Another broke his maiden by 7 lengths. The other two were primed and ready to break their maiden, he insists.
Whether his glass is half-full or not, Swales has to be feeling the effects of the quarantine. It’s simple, really: He still has to pay his bills and there’s no money coming in. Also, as he points out, “losing potential breeding awards places a tremendous economic burden on the farm.”
Other problems
There are other potential problems. Such as, what happens if the contaminated area isn’t cleared by the time Monmouth gets ready to close the backstretch, before winter comes to a place that isn’t winterized? Such as, what happens when the trainers who normally go to Florida get stuck here on account of the quarantine and lose their stalls at Gulfstream Park, or wherever?
Then there’s the other aspect of this situation, the scarier one.
If Justin Nixon hadn’t alerted his veterinarian to the problem as soon as he discovered there was one, and if the vet, Bill Keegan, hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did, there is no telling what might have happened.
“Dr. Keegan shut the gates at Monmouth four days before we had a positive come back,” says Nixon, who trains horses for Canadian businessman Frank Stronach.
“As far as I’m concerned, we were four days ahead of the curve.”
“I was just making my rounds that Sunday morning and when I got to Justin’s barn, he told me he had five horses who spiked a fever overnight,” Keegan recalls. “Horses spike fevers all the time, but typically you don’t get five in one barn, not on the same day.”
Time to act
Keegan, who looks in on roughly 250 horses for 17 or 18 trainers, got on the phone and spoke with the vet in Canada, at Stronach’s Adena Springs Farm. That’s where they had to put the horse down the week before. Soon he realized it was time to act. There were too many horror stories about this disease.
“Once this virus rears its ugly head, everyone has to take every precaution possible, in dealing with the sick horses as well as the other horses that are there,” says Lou Raffetto, the chief operating officer for the Maryland Jockey Club, another outpost of the Stronach empire.
The disease reared its ugly head in Maryland on Jan. 2, and tracks down there weren’t completely cleared to do business again until March 8.
“You’re like a leper when this happens,” Raffetto says. “No one wants to have anything to do with you. We lived that — but you can’t be too cautious.”
This must have been what Bill Keegan was thinking that Sunday morning 10 days ago when he closed down the Monmouth Park backstretch.
“Knock on wood, we’ve been lucky so far,” he says now.
“This is the kind of thing that could affect the whole Eastern Seaboard. If you had the perfect storm, it could’ve been disastrous.
“This is an easily communicable disease. It’s like someone said, “It’s only going to take one dirty hanky to spread this.’ A groom gets it on his shoe and walks from one barn to another, and that’s all it takes.”
Then Tim Hills sends a horse up to New York and Bill Anderson runs one at Philadelphia Park and John Forbes has a couple in at the Meadowlands, and next thing you know, you’ve got that perfect storm — which is why it took more than dumb luck to avert a more serious crisis.
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