At Wheelings Downs, a titan among greyhounds embarks on a racing career with expectations that are through the roof

Sunday, January 25, 2004

By Rooftop Gizmo, as told to Steve Levin

Call me Gizmo.

Rooftop Gizmo, officially. Goofy name, I know, but don't blame me; my breeder in Kansas picked it. I was born in May 2002, first of a litter of seven greyhound pups. My parents are racing greyhounds Craigie Whistler and Rich's Princess, which in your world would be like having Brad Pitt and Mia Hamm as parents. It's all about bloodlines: strength, looks, athletic ability, competitiveness.

	Annie O'Neill, Post-Gazette Rooftop Gizmo, No. 1 at left, was bought for the highest price of any greyhound racer, $70,000, then sent to West Virginia to complete for the biggest purses.

Can't say we had much of a home life. Mom was a littermate of world record holder and stud dog Be My Bubba. My dad's a mega stud; he's a son of the perennial No. 1 sire, Molotov, and last year was himself bred between 20 and 50 times a month.

Young racing greyhounds like us are sold at the twice-annual Abilene, Kan., national auctions, where potential owners come from around the country to scout new talent. In October, my six siblings and I fetched a total of $179,500. I set a record: A man in Colorado paid $70,000 for me, the most ever paid for a pup at auction.

My owner, Gary Weber, said he chose me from among the other 900 greyhounds because he has a grandson nicknamed Gizmo. But he also bought me because I'm good.

Don't think I'm some unknown, as Seabiscuit was early on. Even at the auction, no one could touch me. In my first race I ran the auction's fastest time -- 29.99 seconds for a 5/16 mile -- and won by 14 lengths. I mean, come on; the world record is just 29.33. In the final race, I came from behind and slipped between several dogs to win. People there said I could be something special.

West Virginia, here I come
My kennel owner says I'm spoiled rotten, that I have a superiority complex. I'm the alpha dog at the kennel, he said, and the other dogs know it. I say if you've got it, flaunt it.

	Annie O'Neill, Post-Gazette Speed racer Rooftop Gizmo finished second in his first race at Wheeling Downs.

Running is what greyhounds do. We've been bred for racing since ancient times. We're sighthounds -- dogs that run after and catch game by outrunning it. People say we'll chase a bug if it moves.

I'm not much of a history buff, but they tell me that greyhounds first appeared in the Middle East and ended up in Europe via Phoenician boats. We were the hunting dogs of nobles in Saxon England. By the 1770s, we'd been brought to America for the sport of chasing small animals and catching them, or "coursing." But since the mechanical lure was invented for a race track around 1912, baby, we've been born to run.

We can reach 45 mph. Look at me. I have long back legs and an arched back that contracts and stretches at a maximum while I run in what's called a double-suspension gallop. My legs are light, I have great muscle mass, and I have terrific leverage from my long narrow feet. No dog can match us for speed. I'm not bragging, just telling it like it is.

On the other hand, we're not at the top of the charts as far as intelligence. You could say the same about a lot of humans, too, right? Two words: Jessica Simpson. Let's face it, how smart do you have to be to have a sitcom these days? Or chase a lure around a track?

I do know this: For our owners to make money, we not only have to win lots of races but also run at tracks with big purses. If we do well enough, there'll be big stud fees paid for us after we retire around age 5. There are more than 40 greyhound racing tracks around the country, a majority of which run year round. My owner decided he wanted me to race in West Virginia at Wheeling Downs, a year-round track that features the highest prize stakes in the country.

Here's something else: Greyhounds aren't gray. I'm brindle, the most common color. For your information, that's a tawny color streaked with darker shades. And you thought I was an intellectual lightweight. Some of us are spotted, white, black, even blue.

My owner expects big things out of me. A lot of people do. That's why they put me in the hands of a West Virginia kennel owner named Joe Douglas.

I know what you're thinking. Me, Gizmo, in West Virginia. You might as well put Paris Hilton on a farm and build a show around her.

A lot of people along with me were scratching their ... heads. I mean, my owner, Gary Weber, likely had his choice of any kennel in the country. Nothing against West Virginia, but lots of dogs from the auction went straight to Florida garden spots. OK, so the purses are smaller there. I hear the weather is fabulous. I ended up with 71 other greyhounds near Wellsburg, W.Va., off Highway 2 and along the banks of the Ohio River.

Gary is 55, a grandfather who keeps 100 greyhounds on his farm, more than half of them for racing at the smaller Colorado tracks. He has 28 retired dogs as pets. He likes to say that greyhounds are just like kids: "You get attached to them."

He was looking for a kennel for me, and a friend told him about Joe. Gary talked to a lot of people, and everyone said the same thing: They respected and had confidence in Joe. At the Abilene auction, the two talked. I was right there.

Gary said, "Joe, I like the greyhound, and I'd like for you to take care of him and race him ... if you have room."

I don't think Joe had any idea something like this would fall in his lap. He kind of laughed and shifted his feet and told Gary, "I'd make room."

And now I'm at Douglas Kennel, cage No. 62A.

There are 17 other kennels just like ours in this complex; figuring about 70 dogs in each, that means more than 1,100 of us race at Wheeling Downs. No "dogs" run here, if you catch my drift; owners send only their best here. It's like playing the Super Bowl every day.

A dog's life
Quality of life is subjective -- just ask Martha Stewart -- but our kennel has good qualities. Each day, we get 2 pounds of ground raw meat mixed with rice and Hi Pro Purina (plus vitamins, electrolytes, peanut oil and minerals), fresh shredded paper in our cages to sleep on, vet care, country music on the radio and two trips outside to exercise and do our business.

	Dog racing is on downhill track In 1971, horse racing, greyhound racing and jai alai had a combined 28 percent of the national gambling market. By 1995, that figure had dipped to 8.4 percent. The greyhound industry's popularity peaked in 1991. Since then, more than a dozen tracks have folded or stopped live racing. Between 1991 and 2000, the percentage decline of the live wagering handle, or the bets placed by people at tracks, dropped precipitously at every American dog track. At Wheeling Downs, it fell 48 percent, and that was one of the best figures. Several tracks fell more than 75 percent during the same time. Americans spend more than $68 billion a year for gambling; in 2002, greyhound racing had about $430.3 million in gross revenues, down more than $18.5 million from the year 2000. On the other hand, Internet gambling increased from about $1.2 billion in 2000 to more than $4 billion in 2002. Many tracks, including Wheeling Downs, brought in slot machines to boost sagging bottom lines. About 14 percent of the net income from the 2,000 slots at Wheeling Downs goes to the track for its upkeep and administration and to the kennels. Plus, it receives income from simulcast wagers. There is increased debate about the number of greyhounds destroyed each year from overbreeding, injuries or lack of racing potential. An industry association says that between 3,500 and 7,000 dogs are killed each year. A California greyhound advocacy organization puts the annual toll at 20,000. Some claim it's much higher. Thousands more are used for medical research. Because of a high tolerance for pain, some greyhounds are used for trauma studies. Medical researchers prefer greyhounds over other breeds because they have a chest cavity where the heart and lung size are that is similar to a medium-sized woman or a small-framed man. As many as 10,000 greyhounds are adopted each year through more than 200 greyhound adoption groups. Wheeling Downs has an adoption program for retired racers through Greyhound Pets of America. Locally, Going Home Greyhounds, Inc., based in Wexford, is among the best known private agencies, 724-935-6298. < -- Steve Levin, Post-Gazette staff writer

About the meat. You thought your wife's meatloaf was bad? Most kennels use "4-D" meat; the "D" stands for cattle that are diseased, dead, dying or disabled at the time of slaughter. We get 3-D meat from Iowa -- no dead cattle, Joe says. Our racing weight has to be within 1 1/2 pounds of our last race weigh-in; that's how Joe figures out how much to feed us. Some call the meat a "pathogenic smorgasbord," or 5-D, for disgusting. We call it dinner.

I've noticed the others here try to look like me: coats so snug, they snap when pulled; the middle of their backs so defined, a marble can roll from neck to tail. Plus, I'm a big dog and weigh 74 pounds. Joe loves big dogs for racing.

We've been called the world's fastest couch potatoes because basically we just lie around for 21 or 22 hours a day. Our cages are 3 feet long, 3 feet high and about 2 1/2 feet wife, large enough for us to stretch out. The plastic muzzles we wear all the time? They're so we don't nip each other when we're outside or bust our faces against the cages' wire walls. They don't stop us from head butting each other, though. Can't say we're friends. After all, we're competitive athletes, just without the bling-bling.

Joe tells people, "I play with dogs all day; can you think of a better living?" It's not hard work, he says, it's just a job that runs around the clock. Joe's 43, and married with four kids. His mother-in-law, Garnet Crowe, has been in the business since 1979 when she married for the second time. Her husband, a kennel owner, told her the dogs came first, God second and family third.

Joe has been in the business 25 years, from a part-time job while still in high school to a full-time trainer to buying his first kennel in 1990 in Jacksonville, Fla. He and his family moved to West Virginia in 1999.

He owns most of the dogs in his kennel. Some he raised with his wife, Dianna, at their farm in Dallas Pike. Last year wasn't a good one for Joe. His kennel finished 15th out of 18 kennels in the race standings. The biggest reason was a virulent "kennel cough" in the spring and summer that quarantined his kennel and kept him from bringing in healthy dogs that could race. Joe says it's his first off year since 1988.

He's lucky to have a greyhound like me around. I could make a big difference in the standings. Say I get 70 or so starts a year, or one every five days. If I win half of them -- the best dogs do -- I could boost Joe and his kennel up a couple of notches and bring in some bigger paychecks. Not to mention some attention for me.

Maiden voyage
I'm lucky I came along when I did because it's no secret that the greyhound racing industry is dying. Reminds me of Woody Allen's career. Greyhound racing used to be one of the country's only gambling outlets. Now, with casinos on American Indian land, Internet gambling and riverboats, it's an afterthought.

Joe says he's already told his kids not to expect to work in the family business because "there won't be one." It's not just the other outlets for gambling; no one watches our races and fewer and fewer bet on them.

Now, I'm not saying I'll be a savior or anything, but my first official race was Wednesday, and there was a big crowd there. Most of them were at least 70 in human years but so what; I was in the third race, running from the No. 1 post position. Before the race began, the public address announcer said, "The well-regarded Rooftop Gizmo is making his debut." Each racer gets a numbered vest to wear; post position No. 1's color is red, which, I have to say, looks good on me. I also like black, but the No. 5 dog, Greys Royalcrown, got that.

Anyway, the races I run -- 5/16ths of a mile or 1,643 feet -- are over in about 30 seconds. All the feeding, training, cost and effort are bound up in half a minute. The margin between winning and losing can be the width of a toenail.

A dog losing by 14 lengths is less than a second behind the winner. Losing by a neck is losing by 3/100ths of a second. A stumble, missed stride, bump or clip usually means one thing: loser. The reason is that for about three-quarters of the race, we're off the ground.

Our highest speed of 40 mph to 45 mph is during the first 300 feet. At the first turn, we're legs akimbo, and it's there that a lot of races are lost and won. We're born with speed; what's left is figuring out the turns, learning when to go to the rail or sail outside, and deciding when to split dogs. You can't teach that, Joe says, it has to be instinct.

By the finish, we're cruising at around 25 mph. I'm strongest in the stretch; it's where I start to feel comfortable, where I catch my stride and make my move.

The races at Wheeling Downs are a 20-minute drive from our kennel down Highway 2. The kennels used to be right at the track, but everyone moved to Wellsburg in 2002 so the site owners could build a hotel where the kennels were.

We're transported in mini-kennels mounted on the back of pickup trucks. Some mornings, like Wednesday, it's below freezing, but we're hot-blooded -- our regular internal temperature is 101 degrees -- and along with blankets on the floor, we manage. Wheeling Downs' track is heated by submerged coils.

	John Beale, Post-Gazette Kim Sine, left, Gizmo's trainer at the Douglas kennels in Wellsburg, W.Va. handles another dog while kennel co-Diana Douglas, with Gizmo at right, prepares to put the greyhound back in his cage after his first race.

Between Dec. 18 and Jan. 15, I ran five "schooling" races, which are preliminaries to the main race card. I won two of the five races and finished second in another. My best time was 30.69 seconds.

Your first official race is called a "maiden," which is a race for nonwinners. You have to win to move up to grade D races and so on up to grade AA races, where the best dogs run. Once there, if you don't finish first, second or third for three consecutive races or fail to finish at least third in four consecutive starts, you're dropped down a grade.

In my maiden on Wednesday, I broke well from the starting box, but I let Greys Royalcrown get too big a lead on the first turn. I ended up staring at his rear end, and the lure, the entire race, finishing second to him by a half-length, at 30.52 seconds, or 4/100ths of a second behind. If the course had been 15 feet longer I'd have caught him.

Anyway, Joe said I did well, considering that Greys Royalcrown had won all three of his schooling races.

I think I'd take him in a rematch.

Steve Levin can be reached at slevin@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1919.

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