The Canadian Sportsman
Travel Tips
Back To Travel TipsMarch 04, 2010
It was a odd place to find nirvana.
Inside a former hot dog stand, nearly forgotten at the top of the clubhouse at Yonkers Raceway, ultimate glory arrived just before 6 p.m. on a gray Sunday on the last day of February.
If you’re Canadian, you’ll likely always remember where you were when Sidney Crosby slipped a shot past Ryan Miller in overtime and Canada defeated the United States for the Olympic gold medal in hockey.
In the long, cinderblock space behind the boarded up concession stand, I was in hostile territory, watching the game with Yonkers publicity man Frank Drucker and photographer extraordinaire and fellow Canadian Claus Andersen. Drucker is the tenant of this unpretentious “office” with a decor best described as nouveau clutter with a dash of postwar snack bar.
Still, what Drucker’s office was lacking in ambiance was made up by his laid-back welcomeness and dry wisecracking. The fact he still had a couple of beers left over from a track promotion cooling in a small bar fridge didn’t hurt. So what if it was Budweiser American Ale? Drucker’s forgiven. When the beer proceeded to flow, on opening, like freshly popped champagne, Drucker merely shrugged as a fair quantity of brew spilled on what passed for a carpet.
This was, after all, one of the few parts of Yonkers that has seen better days — the massive slot machine hall rambling over two floors downstairs excluded, of course.
Andersen and I were in town for the Dan Patch Awards honouring the best in U.S. harness racing and Drucker was nothing if not a gracious host and loser in this cross-border hockey rivalry. When the two Canadians sporting red ties erupted at Crosby’s winner, Drucker merely smiled, winked and cocked his beer toward us in tribute.
I was only three when Canada defeated the Soviets in the 1972 Summit Series, so I have no recollection of that seminal moment in Canadianess. But I can recall in high-definition detail where I was when Ben Johnson won the gold medal in the 100m on Sept. 24, 1988 at the Seoul Olympics. I was traveling with the University of Windsor’s football team on the road at York University in Toronto. The team had gathered in a number of rooms in the hotel to watch the 100 metres and the building practically shook with the roar after Johnson sprinted to glory. For the record, Andersen was mere steps away from Johnson, photographing the event. Back in Toronto, as commentators gushed over repeated replays and live video of Johnson jogging around the stadium clutching a Canadian flag, someone in our hotel room studied Johnson’s yellow eyes and remarked, “Wouldn’t it funny if he tested positive for steroids?”
Of course, it wasn’t funny when three days later Johnson did test positive, but I’ll never forget it just the same.
I can only imagine Crosby’s goal, likewise, will be forever etched in my long-term memory as much for the time and place as for the glory itself.
In the golden days, Yonkers was packed to the rafters every weekend with 30,000 willing patrons and consistently drew 20,000 for weekday cards. Those crowds are gone now, of course, but Yonkers’ historical relevance remains. The ghosts of racing greats — both equine and human — hang thick in the air. Watching a major moment in Canadian identity unfold in a former harness racing and sporting mecca, beer in hand, certainly had its poetry.
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