News stories about the book "Horseplayers"
Gambler's Life Means None Beyond the Track
A Different Breed
Smarty money won't travel down Boss' Bellamy Road
Few joys, many woes of going pro
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A Different Breed
A year at Arlington Park introduced author Ted McClelland to a colorful cast of horse-betting hopefuls.
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With five minutes left before the next horse race at Arlington Park, Ted McClelland starts to get antsy.
His feet nervously bounce up and down.
His right hand taps away at his seat with a pencil.
His eyes glare at the giant tote board before him.
"I just wait for these moments when you're looking at the tote board thinking, 'I gotta get a piece of this.' You have to wait 'til you get excited about a race," McClelland says, distracted as the odds change one more time. I'm thinking, 'If I don't bet on this horse and he wins, am I going to kick myself?' So much of it is a gut reaction."
And McClelland has learned all about gut reactions.
A few years ago, the 38-year-old Chicago writer came up with a unique idea for a book.
He'd visit Arlington Park, other racetracks and off-track-betting centers every day for a year, betting with the $4,000 advance he got from his publisher.
McClelland would see if it was possible to overcome the odds and make a living from betting on the horses.
Along the way, he'd try to meet a colorful cast of characters and learn all about their unusual -- and risky -- way of trying to make ends meet.
He chronicles their journeys and aims to answer the question of whether they can turn a profit in "Horseplayers: Life at the Track" (Chicago Review Press, $24.95).
"It's an alternative lifestyle, that's for sure," McClelland says. "You're not going to find people who just want a stable suburban life out here. They're definitely fringe-dwellers."
Not your average job
McClelland always knows where to find the regulars he profiles in his book. Not long after getting to the track, he seeks out Creighton Schoenfeldt in the VIP room and greets him like an old friend.
Schoenfeldt starts his day like any other commuter, hopping on the el in Chicago, transferring to the Metra train and heading out to the suburbs.
Except he ends up at Arlington Park to gamble.
"To me, it's a job. I'm not here for fun and entertainment, I'm here to make money," says Schoenfeldt. "I'm not one to sit here and eat, I just believe I'm out here to play the horses. I'm making a day's pay."
Schoenfeldt, who is in his early 60s, says he relies on his second "career" because he has emphysema and can't hold a more traditional job.
But he doesn't bring home a pay off every day. While he has good days and bad days, he's lost more than he's won over the course of a lifetime.
He admits he's probably behind by a couple hundred thousand dollars at the tracks since he started betting years ago. Yet, he boasts of his membership in Arlington's Gold Club, the exclusive room for those who bet $100,000 a year.
Schoenfeldt is adamant in referring to his time at the track as a job rather than an addiction, but he acknowledges it does consume much of his life. Even his wife, a former nun who plays the horses occasionally, agrees.
Still, he insists he gambles carefully, having invested $800 in a computer program that helps him handicap a day's worth of races in minutes.
"You just bet what you can afford," he says. "You have to feel comfortable on what you bet. In other words, if you're betting the rent you're not going to be comfortable."
McClelland, who followed Schoenfeldt at Arlington, Hawthorne Race Course and even his apartment on Chicago's North Side, goes so far as to say the gambler's goal is not to make money but to get the thrill that comes with winning and "being right when everybody else is wrong."
"Devoted gamblers aren't trying to win money for a boat or a car," McClelland writes in his book. "They only want enough to eat, sleep, ride the bus to the track and keep gambling."
'Their passion'
During his year of intense betting, McClelland learned just how all-consuming it can become.
"It's a 10-hour-a-day job, and it's one of those things you couldn't leave behind -- you're always thinking about the horses," says McClelland.
McClelland, during a recent day at Arlington Park, says it's actually good he's single.
He admits that most of the career gamblers he met were single or divorced. And those who were married definitely didn't have kids.
"You just have to devote yourself -- body, soul and fiber -- to the horses," he says. "I don't know if betting on horses makes you unattractive to women, but you have to have that bachelor sensibility. You just have to focus every bit of emotional and mental energy on the horses."
Scott McMannis, who's been betting on horses for 25 years, admits it's the thrill of the sport that keeps him coming back for more. He's an exception to McClelland's rule that it's just for the single man: He says he's been happily married and still manages to make it to the track daily.
"I don't tire of it. It's something I enjoy doing and want to keep doing and intend to keep doing," McMannis says from a table inside the Arlington pavilion overlooking the course. "It's just a fun atmosphere -- I'm not stuck in an office somewhere or home alone. Every race is a puzzle -- no two races are alike -- and I like sorting it out."
McMannis says his wife tolerates his day job because he can walk away from the track at the end of the day. In the winter, when Arlington is closed, he forgets about the track and spends more time with his family.
And in addition to the money he makes from his wins, McMannis supplements his income as a columnist for a horse-racing newsletter and handicapping teacher. His suit-and-tie appearance at the track distances him from the other daily bettors, many of whom aren't the best dressers.
"I go back here 25 years and I've seen the characters with the same quirks, and in some cases odd characters," McMannis says. "Some of it is addiction, compulsion; but it's really just their passion. They enjoy the racing."
How does it start?
A decade ago, McClelland barely cared about horse racing. He never imagined he'd spend an entire year just gambling.
Things started to change on day in 1996 when his dad came to town for a visit from his home state of Michigan.
The pair went to Arlington, and McClelland quickly fell in love with handicapping, betting and, most of all, winning. By the end of the day, he was up $150.
From there, he only became more sucked in by the sport.
He met some of the best horseplayers in the Chicago area and learned from them, also coming up with his own approach to beat the odds.
"It's so much more engaging than going to a baseball game or a football game. It's not just a game, it's a challenge," McClelland says.
He's learned a lot about himself, too, and how to bet since he started 10 years ago.
"When I first started, it was very difficult for me to pass races," he says. "After you watch hundreds of races, you learn most aren't worth betting."
But he still does, despite the unpredictable swings from winning streak to losing streak.
A month ago, his betting account was in the red $110 for the year. A few weeks later he ended his spring season ahead by $100.
Although his full-time gig as a gambler is up, McClelland still visited the track at least 50 times in the first half of 2005. He makes an effort to limit his visits and not dig himself a financial hole.
Accounting for gas, food and admission, he figures he's only slightly behind.
For McClelland, the thrill is worth it.
"There's no such thing as a bad day at the races," he says.
Seeing if it's worth it
At the start of his journey, McClelland mainly had just that one question to answer: "Is it possible to actually make a living at the track?"
He figured $16 billion is wagered on horses each year, but only 2 percent to 5 percent of gamblers could turn a profit consistently.
Becoming a part of that small percentage is time-consuming and risky.
With less than a minute before race time, McClelland has been known to sprint up the escalators at Arlington Park to find a betting station without a line. As he walks through the park's sprawling clubhouse, he'll subconsciously turn around to check the monitors that update the odds.
His emotion is real as he shouts to support his pick in a race and as he swears loudly when his horse loses.
But at the end of his year at the track, McClelland learned he'd never make a profit on the horses unless he let the betting consume him.
"I had made a serious attempt to beat the races, and I had learned that yes, it could be done, but only with the kind of single-minded devotion that one would apply to training for the Mr. Universe competition or memorizing the New Testament in Greek," McClelland concluded in "Horseplayers." "If you're looking to spend a year of your life and several thousand dollars on a personal growth experience, going to the track is every bit as worthwhile as a hiking expedition in Peru."
If you can afford it.
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