The sport of kings in American hands has lowered itself to this: The advertising slogan for this year’s Preakness stakes, the second jewel in the Triple Crown, is “Get your Preak on.” I am not making this up. Apparently, some advertising agency was actually paid to come up with this, designed to appeal to those seeking the all-you-can-drink tickets to the infield part of the racecourse. There is a web site, www.getyourpreakon.com, which informs you that the festivities include a bikini contest, live bands and something called a “cornhole” tournament (I don’t even want to know). Apparently, there also might be some sort of horse race, but that’s not really clear.
Racing on both sides of the Atlantic is struggling to retain its audience and relevance in an age that is passing it by. I thought it was bad enough in France, when racing was stripped of its dignity by a publicity campaign in childish writing and pastel colors designed to convince parents to bring their kids to the track. Royal Ascot had to add a rule in its dress code requiring that women wear some sort of underwear after “Ladies Day” started to look more like a pole-dancing convention. But it truly suggests the death throes when the marketing for what should be one of America’s premier horse races has to center on beer and hide the horse.
Wonder if they’ll have a Rick James tribute band playing Super Preak during the post parade.
The real shame is that it’s not even real beer – there are some great craft brewers in Baltimore who would be more interesting partners.
lol that is preak-ishly bad advertising, couldn’t they come up with something a little more outstanding?
Frankly, I wouldn’t be caught dead near Pimlico on Preakness Day. I have been twice. The first time was a great experience because we had a horse running in an allowance race on the undercard and he WON. So I can say I have stood in the winner’s circle on Preakness Day. The second time, a young woman sitting next to us threw up and passed out before the Preakness even started. So you are sitting amongst spilt beer, discarded chicken bones, and assorted other trash (human included). For most people, the Preakness is an excuse for a Frat party. Why the track wants those people is beyond me. I will stay at home and watch the race on TV. And if there is any spilt beer, it will be my own.