Horsing around at Singapore's new(ish) Turf Club

A friend recently lamented on Facebook that this season of the Barclays Premier League soccer matches were about to end on his Starhub cable network. You see, the Singapore broadcast rights to his favorite sport will transfer to the rival Singtel network this year and my buddy had no plans to switch and he was sore.

A helpful friend left a comment saying, "Maybe now you can return to your true passion, cock fighting."

I suggested cricket but it did not seem to comfort him. I did, however, discover another potential sport to enjoy in Singapore -- horse racing.

There's something about the Turf Club that induces on-the-spot squatting.

The swanky, high-tech new Turf Club

I had the opportunity to visit the Turf Club recently. It was my first time there since they moved from the old Bukit Timah location (now converted to a dumpy place with a Chinese restaurant and a supermarket). The newer Turf Club is swankier and located in Kranji, north of Singapore, away from civilization.

The first thing I noticed was that entry into the Turf Club was via fancy MRT-like gantries. You can enter via a ticket or an ez-link card, the same kind you use to pay for public transport trips. So in theory, you can take a train there, tap your ez-link card to get out of the station and tap again to get into the races. Neato. 

Now if they implement betting via the ez-link card, that will complete the loop and make that card truly useful. Cashless betting! 

The second thing that hit me when I entered the Turf Club was the smell. It was not the smell of victory or the smell of big money. It was the smell of horse doo doo.

I suppose it is not practical to make smell-proof toilets for all the athletes here (when I say "athletes" I mean them horses). But maybe if we made the horses pay some kind of toilet fee or fine them for leaving their poop around, it will help bring the signature Turf Club scent down a little.

Picking the right horse to back (and bet)

I had no idea which horse was which. Nor did I know how to bet. The punters there seemed very knowledgeable. They were poring over the race bible as if they were studying for their A-level exams. Uncles in slippers and shorts could be seen hogging the tables, studying their racing magazine like school kids at McDonald's.

I looked at my copy of the magazine showing the races of the day, and picked horses based on their names. Ryan, who used to go to the races in Hong Kong, gave me a few tips before I came. As long as the horse doesn't look like he is drunk and/or limping, it was okay.

I felt that my scientific method of choosing a horse by the name-that-I-like-the-sound-of was better. My choices included "Be a Man", "Lim's Fighter" and "Feline Groovy". I love the witty puns that these horse names use and my new goal in life is, besides being a Dance Music Lyricist, to be a Racing Horse Namer. Think of the creative copywriting opportunities.

I tried to find out if I could bet on other things besides the winning horse, like the goal difference, the first penalty kick, or which horse gets the first yellow card, but the counter lady politely said no.

I joined the throng at the track and when the race was on, I could not help joining the chorus of "Number 4! Number 4! Number 4!" shouted in the Hokkien dialect. No, I did not bet on Number 4 but the men behind me did and I was swept up by their passion.

I was some signs that said "No Mobile Phones Beyond the Yellow Line." Ryan tells me that those were meant to prevent bookies from operating from the front lines. I thought they were to stop people from videoing the races live and sending it up to Youtube, contravening some kind of broadcast rights.

The winner's circle

When a horse wins, the jockey and his horse is led around a little circle, for the uncles that won to give the pair a rousing cheer or two. The pair seemed to enjoy the attention but it kind of looked silly after the fifth little circle around the winner's area. I feel the whole thing would be more majestic if they stuck some fireworks on the horse's backside and rode it around the main track to the cheering crowd.

It was a fun day out at the races. I reckon I might come back again. If I get adventurous, I might even go to the races in Malaysia. I hear it is more hardcore there. Horses can be threatened with bodily harm or their horse families kidnapped if they don't pretend to be sick and throw a race.

I wonder if the Mafia-like syndicates there use horse heads on beds to threaten uncooperative horses. Maybe they use zebra heads instead.