http://www.fox4now.com/Global/story.asp?S=13760706
Fox 4 cameras turned away at dog track
Reporter Pooja Lodhia
Undercover video so disturbing... you have to see it to believe it. It shows dogs living in filth at what appears to be an Arizona greyhound race track.
Now, some of you are turning to Fox 4, afraid similar abuses are happening at our local race-track. You want to know what's going on behind closed doors.... and Fox 4 is working to find out.
Muzzled... cramped... and filthy.
Animal rights group Grey2k says it took this undercover video at the Tucson greyhound park.
The group also claims similiar abuses are happening at other greyhound tracks... possibly even at this one in Bonita Springs.
And that's why animal rights activist Chuck Danielian wants proof the dogs here are being taken care of.
"I don't see any reason that you shouldn't be allowed to be showed the kennels, the dogs, the conditions they're living in."
Fox 4 drives over.... spot a few dogs out for a walk... and then a security guard stops us.
Security Guard: "Well....all the management is in a meeting off site so there's nobody here who can help you."
FOX 4: "We had heard some concerns about some of the kennels. Is there anyway we can get some video in there?"
Security Guard: "No ma'am, absolutely not."
FOX 4: "Why not?"
Security Guard: "Because the state will not allow anybody with a license to go back there."
FOX 4: "Could we give somebody with a license a camera?"
Security Guard: "Nope, cannot do it."
It's true...FOX4 can't go back to the kennels on our own without a license.
There's no reason somebody from the track can't take her back.
FOX 4 left a message with management to schedule a time for that… we'll let you know what happens.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Miami Herald: Dog racing 'A vanishing sport'
http://www.miamiherald.com/2010/12/27/1990704/a-vanishing-sport-dog-racing-is.html
A vanishing sport: Dog racing is running its course
Owners don't have much incentive to refurbish the aging trackside of the dog-racing business when they can put that money into the more-lucrative casinos.
By Linda Robertson - December 27, 2010
Barney O'Donnell wades through dozens of his dogs when he steps into their turnout pen. They surround him, jumping up to his waist and wagging their tails as he scratches ears, pats heads and shakes paws.
"What do you want? How you doing, buddy?'' O'Donnell says. "Cindy, how's my Cindy?''
O'Donnell, 81, has been training sleek greyhounds to race for 55 years. It's a tough business that dirties your fingernails and burns your nerves. The barking, bathing, feeding and racing never stop. O'Donnell has acquired a crust over the years, the same way a mollusk thickens its shell. But his gruff voice turns to honey when he's talking to his dogs. "They understand curse words, you know,'' he says. "You can't swear at 'em. It hurts their feelings. They're very smart.''
It would be easier to treat the dogs as numbers, just as the few bettors do at the racetrack, where the grandstand has the feel of an abandoned relic. O'Donnell has devoted his life to greyhound racing and, now, right before his eyes, the sport is vanishing.
Only the hard-core fans remember his stars Derek's Cadillac, Yellow Printer, My Tipper, Placid Ace, Starlight Irene. Only the old-timers remember Rocking Ship, the Jesse Owens of dog racing who won 53 of 86 races and $100,000 before he died from a snake bite in 1973.
O'Donnell goes to work at 6 a.m. seven days a week at the Florida Kennels in Hialeah yet wishes he could detach himself from his dogs and retire. There are often fewer than 100 people in stands that used to hold 8,000, 10,000, 14,750 on one record night.
Dog racing has been in decline for 20 years. In Florida, where 16 tracks survive, the handle, or amount wagered, on racing has dropped from about $620 million to $300 million in 10 years. Pari-mutuel wagering on dog racing, horse racing and jai alai has fallen 44 percent in the past 10 years, from $1.7 billion to $958.5 million, and state tax revenues have fallen by 55 percent as a result. The handle at Miami's Flagler dog track was $25 million last year.
But patrons wagered $68 million on the 734 slot machines in the adjoining Magic City Casino. The cardroom grossed an additional $5.1 million.
"Live racing is a money-loser,'' said Juan Fra, Magic City's general manager. He's spent his entire career in the business, starting as a 15-year-old leadout who walked the dogs through the post parade to the starting line. "I feel bad for the people on the greyhound side. Like fishermen, it's what they know. But you've got to adapt. Luckily, I love poker.''
At the intersection of Flagler Street and Douglas Road, giant neon signs shimmer with the name "Magic City Casino.'' There's no mention of dog racing at what used to be known as "Fabulous Flagler.''
When you enter the casino, it's not easy to find the dog track. The people who do can choose from thousands of empty seats.
The song Who Let the Dogs Out?' plays on the loudspeakers. An announcer gives handicapping information but those at the Tres Hermanos bar aren't listening. A race begins when the start box lids flip open and eight greyhounds bound out, angle toward the rail and chase the mechanical rabbit around the track. They run with long, lunging strides. As they charge into the homestretch, a spectator shouts out. "Come on, number four!'' Letsgroovetonite, who avoided the bumping in the first turn, holds on for first in 30.99 seconds.
Nobody cheers. The dogs are led off the track.
Leaving the track and entering the casino is like walking from a desert into an oasis bazaar. The chiming, tooting slot machines, ambient pop music and murmurs of patrons create layers of noise. Everywhere you turn, there are flashing lights and animated characters: Zeus, Lucky Meerkats, Treasure of Machu Picchu, Reel Them In and Catch the Big One.
The people inside don't go outside, and most have no idea that the graceful, muscular greyhounds are racing around the track at 40 mph.
Yet Magic City must keep racing a minimum number of days per year in order to operate the casino. It's the same situation at the Mardi Gras casino and dog track in Hollywood. When South Florida voters approved slot machines in 2005 and 2008, state legislators mandated the creation of "racinos'' to buffer the expansion of Las Vegas-style gambling and preserve pari-mutuel livelihoods.
But dog racing, horse racing and jai alai can't compete with slots and cardrooms. Magic City paid $1.2 million in dog purses last year, little more than it paid poker players.
"These sports are somewhat complicated. You have to do math. You have to show up at a certain time,'' said Bob Jarvis, a law professor at Nova Southeastern University and an expert on sports and gambling. "With a slot machine, you sit down, press a button, things happen. It's ideal for the cultural shifts in our limited-attention-span society.''
Owners have little incentive to refurbish the aging track side of the business when they can put that money into the casino, thus hastening the decline of the sport. "Dogs, horses and jai alai players need to eat, sleep and go to the bathroom,'' Jarvis said. "They're expensive and their facilities take up acres of land.''
Florida's gambling and entertainment landscape has changed radically in the past 25 years with the state lottery, Indian gaming, high-stakes poker, online betting, the rebirth of Miami Beach and three additional pro sports franchises luring patrons away from pari-mutuels.
"The pari-mutuels finally realized they were dying,'' Jarvis said. "They could either sell these huge pieces of property for condos or embrace their former enemy the casino. By then the Indians had a head start. The problem with the racinos is they still have to give a portion of the money to the purses and trainers. The Indians don't have to share their money with anybody.''
O'Donnell cites the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino as the pari-mutuels' brilliant nemesis.
"Hard Rock has aggressive marketing,'' he said. "You keep selling hair tonic, Jesus Christ, people are going to buy it. They give away cars. One of their prizes is paying off your mortgage. They've got the people absolutely wacko with their gimmicks. They could promote snow in the Caribbean.''
Jarvis likens dog racing to the medieval trebuchet: Its time has passed.
"TV never fell in love with dog racing,'' he said. "A lot of people own dogs as pets. They see the greyhounds and say, `My, God, Fluffy is being forced to race and look how emaciated he is.' ''
Animals rights activists have also hurt the sport. Seven states passed bans on dog racing. O'Donnell resents what he calls "disturbing lies.''
"They claim we were cruel,'' O'Donnell said. "I'd like the homeless people at Camillus House to eat the way our dogs eat. They'd be fat.''
O'Donnell's dogs sleep in stacked wire crates at the kennel. It's clean, functional, minimalist, not a cuddly existence. He plays soft rock and oldies on the radio for them. They get taken outside five times a day. They'll go to the practice sprint path once every few days and race once every 5-7 days. Their careers last 2-3 years. They eat a stew of beef, spinach, carrots, barley, noodles and vitamins.
"These dogs love to run,'' said O'Donnell's kennel trainer Sarah Kettlewell as she rubbed liniment on the haunches of Moving Target. She recently adopted a retired dog named Quiet. "They're like our children. It's the best feeling when you walk in and they bark -- `Hey, Mommy, let's go.' ''
O'Donnell and his wife Pauline breed, raise, train and race hundreds of dogs. They own a puppy farm in Texas. He comes from an Irish family in Boston. She comes from Ireland, where dog racing is popular. Their favorite dog was Yellow Printer, who used to sleep in bed with them.
The rumpled Barney and the elegant Pauline make an interesting couple.
"She does the thinking, I do the thumping,'' O'Donnell said.
The O'Donnells are among the best in the business.
"Maybe they are what's kept me alive, the dogs,'' O'Donnell said. "If more people spent time with animals there wouldn't be all this fighting in the world.''
O'Donnell recalled the sport's heyday, when going to the dogs was a fun night out. People came to the track in spiffy clothes. Babe Ruth, Bob Hope, Joe Louis and Milton Berle used to come. O'Donnell used to have breakfast with Jackie Gleason at a drugstore by the kennels while Gleason's chauffeur waited in the car.
The Miami Beach and Biscayne tracks, since demolished, were packed, too. For the major events, the $80,000 classics, the leadouts wore tuxedos and top hats and spotlights shone on the dogs. Now, a typical purse pays half what it used to -- $500 to the winner, with 35 percent going to the dog's owner and 65 percent to the kennel. Stud fees are down, too.
"People used to talk and debate about the dogs as if they were athletes,'' said Fra, 51, who started at Flagler in 1974. "They'd discuss Downing's win streak. Bashful Guy was a fast-breaking dog, Sandy Printer was a come-from-behind dog. After the last race we'd drive over to Miami Jai Alai and bet the last game.''
The elegant greyhound was praised by King Solomon in the Bible. The breed was a favorite of Cleopatra and European aristocrats. It was brought to the United States to catch jack rabbits. In 1910 an impresario named O.P. Smith patented his "inanimate hare conveyor.'' In 1922 he opened a track in Hialeah, where dog racing had an unsavory reputation until pari-mutuel betting was legalized in 1932.
Banana importer Isadore Hecht bought the Flagler track in 1954 and built it into an attraction. "There are a few things you aren't going to stop people from doing: smoking, drinking and sometimes placing a bet,'' he said.
After he died, his family kept it running, opening a flea market in the parking lot and holding bar mitzvahs in the auditorium. Building the casino cost $55 million but now Magic City is breaking even and vice president Izzy Havenick, whose pet dogs roam the offices, hopes the recent tax cut on slot revenues, a brightening economy and the potential for retail shops will boost its profile.
As for the future of greyhound racing, O'Donnell is not optimistic. He rumbles around the kennel area in his old Lincoln Town Car and points out empty buildings that used to be home to the top dogs.
"We have quite an adoption program,'' he said. "They don't shed much and they're very affectionate. People love them.''
A vanishing sport: Dog racing is running its course
Owners don't have much incentive to refurbish the aging trackside of the dog-racing business when they can put that money into the more-lucrative casinos.
By Linda Robertson - December 27, 2010
Barney O'Donnell wades through dozens of his dogs when he steps into their turnout pen. They surround him, jumping up to his waist and wagging their tails as he scratches ears, pats heads and shakes paws.
"What do you want? How you doing, buddy?'' O'Donnell says. "Cindy, how's my Cindy?''
O'Donnell, 81, has been training sleek greyhounds to race for 55 years. It's a tough business that dirties your fingernails and burns your nerves. The barking, bathing, feeding and racing never stop. O'Donnell has acquired a crust over the years, the same way a mollusk thickens its shell. But his gruff voice turns to honey when he's talking to his dogs. "They understand curse words, you know,'' he says. "You can't swear at 'em. It hurts their feelings. They're very smart.''
It would be easier to treat the dogs as numbers, just as the few bettors do at the racetrack, where the grandstand has the feel of an abandoned relic. O'Donnell has devoted his life to greyhound racing and, now, right before his eyes, the sport is vanishing.
Only the hard-core fans remember his stars Derek's Cadillac, Yellow Printer, My Tipper, Placid Ace, Starlight Irene. Only the old-timers remember Rocking Ship, the Jesse Owens of dog racing who won 53 of 86 races and $100,000 before he died from a snake bite in 1973.
O'Donnell goes to work at 6 a.m. seven days a week at the Florida Kennels in Hialeah yet wishes he could detach himself from his dogs and retire. There are often fewer than 100 people in stands that used to hold 8,000, 10,000, 14,750 on one record night.
Dog racing has been in decline for 20 years. In Florida, where 16 tracks survive, the handle, or amount wagered, on racing has dropped from about $620 million to $300 million in 10 years. Pari-mutuel wagering on dog racing, horse racing and jai alai has fallen 44 percent in the past 10 years, from $1.7 billion to $958.5 million, and state tax revenues have fallen by 55 percent as a result. The handle at Miami's Flagler dog track was $25 million last year.
But patrons wagered $68 million on the 734 slot machines in the adjoining Magic City Casino. The cardroom grossed an additional $5.1 million.
"Live racing is a money-loser,'' said Juan Fra, Magic City's general manager. He's spent his entire career in the business, starting as a 15-year-old leadout who walked the dogs through the post parade to the starting line. "I feel bad for the people on the greyhound side. Like fishermen, it's what they know. But you've got to adapt. Luckily, I love poker.''
At the intersection of Flagler Street and Douglas Road, giant neon signs shimmer with the name "Magic City Casino.'' There's no mention of dog racing at what used to be known as "Fabulous Flagler.''
When you enter the casino, it's not easy to find the dog track. The people who do can choose from thousands of empty seats.
The song Who Let the Dogs Out?' plays on the loudspeakers. An announcer gives handicapping information but those at the Tres Hermanos bar aren't listening. A race begins when the start box lids flip open and eight greyhounds bound out, angle toward the rail and chase the mechanical rabbit around the track. They run with long, lunging strides. As they charge into the homestretch, a spectator shouts out. "Come on, number four!'' Letsgroovetonite, who avoided the bumping in the first turn, holds on for first in 30.99 seconds.
Nobody cheers. The dogs are led off the track.
Leaving the track and entering the casino is like walking from a desert into an oasis bazaar. The chiming, tooting slot machines, ambient pop music and murmurs of patrons create layers of noise. Everywhere you turn, there are flashing lights and animated characters: Zeus, Lucky Meerkats, Treasure of Machu Picchu, Reel Them In and Catch the Big One.
The people inside don't go outside, and most have no idea that the graceful, muscular greyhounds are racing around the track at 40 mph.
Yet Magic City must keep racing a minimum number of days per year in order to operate the casino. It's the same situation at the Mardi Gras casino and dog track in Hollywood. When South Florida voters approved slot machines in 2005 and 2008, state legislators mandated the creation of "racinos'' to buffer the expansion of Las Vegas-style gambling and preserve pari-mutuel livelihoods.
But dog racing, horse racing and jai alai can't compete with slots and cardrooms. Magic City paid $1.2 million in dog purses last year, little more than it paid poker players.
"These sports are somewhat complicated. You have to do math. You have to show up at a certain time,'' said Bob Jarvis, a law professor at Nova Southeastern University and an expert on sports and gambling. "With a slot machine, you sit down, press a button, things happen. It's ideal for the cultural shifts in our limited-attention-span society.''
Owners have little incentive to refurbish the aging track side of the business when they can put that money into the casino, thus hastening the decline of the sport. "Dogs, horses and jai alai players need to eat, sleep and go to the bathroom,'' Jarvis said. "They're expensive and their facilities take up acres of land.''
Florida's gambling and entertainment landscape has changed radically in the past 25 years with the state lottery, Indian gaming, high-stakes poker, online betting, the rebirth of Miami Beach and three additional pro sports franchises luring patrons away from pari-mutuels.
"The pari-mutuels finally realized they were dying,'' Jarvis said. "They could either sell these huge pieces of property for condos or embrace their former enemy the casino. By then the Indians had a head start. The problem with the racinos is they still have to give a portion of the money to the purses and trainers. The Indians don't have to share their money with anybody.''
O'Donnell cites the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino as the pari-mutuels' brilliant nemesis.
"Hard Rock has aggressive marketing,'' he said. "You keep selling hair tonic, Jesus Christ, people are going to buy it. They give away cars. One of their prizes is paying off your mortgage. They've got the people absolutely wacko with their gimmicks. They could promote snow in the Caribbean.''
Jarvis likens dog racing to the medieval trebuchet: Its time has passed.
"TV never fell in love with dog racing,'' he said. "A lot of people own dogs as pets. They see the greyhounds and say, `My, God, Fluffy is being forced to race and look how emaciated he is.' ''
Animals rights activists have also hurt the sport. Seven states passed bans on dog racing. O'Donnell resents what he calls "disturbing lies.''
"They claim we were cruel,'' O'Donnell said. "I'd like the homeless people at Camillus House to eat the way our dogs eat. They'd be fat.''
O'Donnell's dogs sleep in stacked wire crates at the kennel. It's clean, functional, minimalist, not a cuddly existence. He plays soft rock and oldies on the radio for them. They get taken outside five times a day. They'll go to the practice sprint path once every few days and race once every 5-7 days. Their careers last 2-3 years. They eat a stew of beef, spinach, carrots, barley, noodles and vitamins.
"These dogs love to run,'' said O'Donnell's kennel trainer Sarah Kettlewell as she rubbed liniment on the haunches of Moving Target. She recently adopted a retired dog named Quiet. "They're like our children. It's the best feeling when you walk in and they bark -- `Hey, Mommy, let's go.' ''
O'Donnell and his wife Pauline breed, raise, train and race hundreds of dogs. They own a puppy farm in Texas. He comes from an Irish family in Boston. She comes from Ireland, where dog racing is popular. Their favorite dog was Yellow Printer, who used to sleep in bed with them.
The rumpled Barney and the elegant Pauline make an interesting couple.
"She does the thinking, I do the thumping,'' O'Donnell said.
The O'Donnells are among the best in the business.
"Maybe they are what's kept me alive, the dogs,'' O'Donnell said. "If more people spent time with animals there wouldn't be all this fighting in the world.''
O'Donnell recalled the sport's heyday, when going to the dogs was a fun night out. People came to the track in spiffy clothes. Babe Ruth, Bob Hope, Joe Louis and Milton Berle used to come. O'Donnell used to have breakfast with Jackie Gleason at a drugstore by the kennels while Gleason's chauffeur waited in the car.
The Miami Beach and Biscayne tracks, since demolished, were packed, too. For the major events, the $80,000 classics, the leadouts wore tuxedos and top hats and spotlights shone on the dogs. Now, a typical purse pays half what it used to -- $500 to the winner, with 35 percent going to the dog's owner and 65 percent to the kennel. Stud fees are down, too.
"People used to talk and debate about the dogs as if they were athletes,'' said Fra, 51, who started at Flagler in 1974. "They'd discuss Downing's win streak. Bashful Guy was a fast-breaking dog, Sandy Printer was a come-from-behind dog. After the last race we'd drive over to Miami Jai Alai and bet the last game.''
The elegant greyhound was praised by King Solomon in the Bible. The breed was a favorite of Cleopatra and European aristocrats. It was brought to the United States to catch jack rabbits. In 1910 an impresario named O.P. Smith patented his "inanimate hare conveyor.'' In 1922 he opened a track in Hialeah, where dog racing had an unsavory reputation until pari-mutuel betting was legalized in 1932.
Banana importer Isadore Hecht bought the Flagler track in 1954 and built it into an attraction. "There are a few things you aren't going to stop people from doing: smoking, drinking and sometimes placing a bet,'' he said.
After he died, his family kept it running, opening a flea market in the parking lot and holding bar mitzvahs in the auditorium. Building the casino cost $55 million but now Magic City is breaking even and vice president Izzy Havenick, whose pet dogs roam the offices, hopes the recent tax cut on slot revenues, a brightening economy and the potential for retail shops will boost its profile.
As for the future of greyhound racing, O'Donnell is not optimistic. He rumbles around the kennel area in his old Lincoln Town Car and points out empty buildings that used to be home to the top dogs.
"We have quite an adoption program,'' he said. "They don't shed much and they're very affectionate. People love them.''
Budget cuts illustrate further decline of UK dog racing
http://www.thefreelibrary.com/Cuts+the+order+of+the+day+as+GBGB+sets+pounds+6m+budget.-a0244366152
Cuts the order of the day as GBGB sets pounds 6m budget
By Jim Cremin, Racing Post (London, England) - December 15, 2010
Greyhound racing yesterday received news of a further 23 percent slip in the Fund-backed Greyhound Board budget. The reduction prompted additional cutbacks when the Fund board approved a 2011 pounds 6m spending plan put before them, although the drop proved less than was being predicted in some quarters.
The 2010 budget was pounds 7.8m, and has been in decline after hitting in excess of pounds 12.6m two years earlier, although that had been boosted by "high-roller activity on both horses and dogs" which saw a similar short term boost to the horserace levy. Even so, there has been a steady decline in general over-the-counter greyhound business.
Given the rate of decline has eased, there is optimism that the pounds 6m budget has been set at a conservative level, and may actually increase later in the year.
Tom Kelly, interim chairman of the Fund, said yesterday: "It is difficult to forecast Fund income for the next year, so we are starting with a conservative budget in the hope that income might improve later in the year. Pounds 6m is thought to be secure and, if this increases, then the budget will be increased in line with this."
Kelly said by setting a realistic figure, the hope is the task during the year ahead will be easier in terms of "spending rather than cutting further".
It is indeed tough times for everyone, with even welfare spending scaled back by the headline 23 per cent which will prompt concern from carers. However, the explanation is effectively along the lines 'we can only give what we've got'. The 2011 Retired Greyhound Trust budget will be just under pounds 1.2m, down pounds 360,000.
Prize-money support falls to pounds 5 per race (from pounds 5.50), a nine per cent cut, but there is a belief this can be seen as a welfare payment as well, in terms of supporting hard-pressed owners and trainers.
There are also cuts in support towards vets fees, while the drug testing budget is 15 per cent down to pounds 590,000, although this is due to the effect of the tender process undertaken by the GBGB [Gaming Board for Great Britain] resulting in significant savings with the switch to a new laboratory, LGC.
The capital spending budget for tracks has disappeared to a dramatic zero from pounds 430,000 this year (it had been as high as pounds 2m previously), although the provision for welfare grants for track safety work has been increased.
A massive loser is national marketing, on which spending next year collapses to save nearly pounds 400K, half the entire marketing budget. Local marketing does remain in place, but The Dogs TV programme has gone.
Not included in all this is the GBGB's admin costs, which are met by licence fees and commercial income.
This is also under review.
Barry Faulkner, the GBGB chief executive who has been in place less than a year, is facing the decline management stoically. He said yesterday: "We're in a tough recession, we've faced difficult choices, but a glimmer of optimism rests in a slowing of the rate of decline in greyhound business in the shops.
"Bags and SIS are working hard with various initiatives that are helpful, and we too are working on ways to support this."
Faulkner made clear that the approach to the Fund budget had been to concentrate on key integrity and welfare initiatives. "The integrity of our sport is paramount for us to continue to have the support of the betting industry," he added.
"Together with welfare spending, these two elements rightly remain the biggest and most important element of the budget. They have to be our priority."
Cuts the order of the day as GBGB sets pounds 6m budget
By Jim Cremin, Racing Post (London, England) - December 15, 2010
Greyhound racing yesterday received news of a further 23 percent slip in the Fund-backed Greyhound Board budget. The reduction prompted additional cutbacks when the Fund board approved a 2011 pounds 6m spending plan put before them, although the drop proved less than was being predicted in some quarters.
The 2010 budget was pounds 7.8m, and has been in decline after hitting in excess of pounds 12.6m two years earlier, although that had been boosted by "high-roller activity on both horses and dogs" which saw a similar short term boost to the horserace levy. Even so, there has been a steady decline in general over-the-counter greyhound business.
Given the rate of decline has eased, there is optimism that the pounds 6m budget has been set at a conservative level, and may actually increase later in the year.
Tom Kelly, interim chairman of the Fund, said yesterday: "It is difficult to forecast Fund income for the next year, so we are starting with a conservative budget in the hope that income might improve later in the year. Pounds 6m is thought to be secure and, if this increases, then the budget will be increased in line with this."
Kelly said by setting a realistic figure, the hope is the task during the year ahead will be easier in terms of "spending rather than cutting further".
It is indeed tough times for everyone, with even welfare spending scaled back by the headline 23 per cent which will prompt concern from carers. However, the explanation is effectively along the lines 'we can only give what we've got'. The 2011 Retired Greyhound Trust budget will be just under pounds 1.2m, down pounds 360,000.
Prize-money support falls to pounds 5 per race (from pounds 5.50), a nine per cent cut, but there is a belief this can be seen as a welfare payment as well, in terms of supporting hard-pressed owners and trainers.
There are also cuts in support towards vets fees, while the drug testing budget is 15 per cent down to pounds 590,000, although this is due to the effect of the tender process undertaken by the GBGB [Gaming Board for Great Britain] resulting in significant savings with the switch to a new laboratory, LGC.
The capital spending budget for tracks has disappeared to a dramatic zero from pounds 430,000 this year (it had been as high as pounds 2m previously), although the provision for welfare grants for track safety work has been increased.
A massive loser is national marketing, on which spending next year collapses to save nearly pounds 400K, half the entire marketing budget. Local marketing does remain in place, but The Dogs TV programme has gone.
Not included in all this is the GBGB's admin costs, which are met by licence fees and commercial income.
This is also under review.
Barry Faulkner, the GBGB chief executive who has been in place less than a year, is facing the decline management stoically. He said yesterday: "We're in a tough recession, we've faced difficult choices, but a glimmer of optimism rests in a slowing of the rate of decline in greyhound business in the shops.
"Bags and SIS are working hard with various initiatives that are helpful, and we too are working on ways to support this."
Faulkner made clear that the approach to the Fund budget had been to concentrate on key integrity and welfare initiatives. "The integrity of our sport is paramount for us to continue to have the support of the betting industry," he added.
"Together with welfare spending, these two elements rightly remain the biggest and most important element of the budget. They have to be our priority."
Labels:
dog racing abroad,
dying industry,
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