The Jockey Room Is Not a Daycare, and Racing Is Not a Family Sport — It’s a Gambling Sport
Gambling and the rapid exchange and transfer of large amounts of money changes things
They walked. Again.
After the first race at Aqueduct, the New York jockey colony refused to ride, citing “issues” with management and, most recently, the way NYRA handled assistant clerk of scales Brian Pochman being told to go home after he balked at new duties.
We don’t have every detail, every memo, every side of every conversation. But you don’t need a subpoena and a wiretap to see the bigger picture. I just wrote an article laying out how Hong Kong and Japan run circles around us when it comes to discipline, structure, and integrity. Against that backdrop, this whole episode makes the New York jockeys look like primadonnas.
And that’s me being polite.
I have been to Super Bowls, World Series, and the Stanley Cup. I’ve always seen wives and family of the players sections. In the stands. Locker rooms are generally off limits except for working press at specified times. I have been on Pit Lane at Formula 1 races and to be fair there is almost always a girlfriend or two in every garage. But Formula 1 is a different animal than just about any other game. I have never seen “anyone else” in the pit at a casino or hanging with their parent Blackjack Dealer.
The Clerk of Scales Is Not a Bit Player
Let’s start with the clerk of scales part, because that’s not some trivial job you push down the hallway when it’s convenient.
The clerk of scales and assistant are central to race integrity. They’re the last line before the gate that makes sure everyone is carrying the weight they’re supposed to carry. In a gambling sport, weight is not a suggestion; it’s a condition of the wager. The clerk of scales is there to ensure the terms of the bet are honored.
From what’s been reported, the assistant clerk of scales was asked to manually record the weights as a backup in case the computer system malfunctioned. That’s not punitive, that’s common-sense redundancy. If anything, that’s the kind of belt-and-suspenders integrity move we don’t do enough of in this country.
Instead of being treated as a logical safeguard, it apparently turned into a point of resistance. The assistant balks, gets told to go home, and suddenly this is a rallying cry for the room.
Let me translate this into Hong Kong/Japan terms:
- In Hong Kong, you’d be lucky if they didn’t replace you before lunch and forget your name by dinner.
- In Japan, they’d probably have three people double-checking the same weights and nobody would be complaining because they all understand the stakes.
Here?
We turn it into a work stoppage. Kendrick Carmouche, a Jockey Guild rep stated the walkout was the result of what was perceived as cumulative disrespect of jockeys and cited families and children not being allowed in the Jockey Room anymore. They can still get together in designated areas. NYRA said it is all part of new protocols across the board.
You want to talk about optics? Try explaining to a serious bettor that the riders refused to ride because management asked an integrity official to keep a manual backup of the weights and meet with their families and children out of the Jockey Room. Hose the bettors, owners, and all the horsemen let alone horses in the paddock and also the ones set to race later.
You can frame that however you like. It doesn’t land well.
Hong Kong and Japan Don’t Argue Over This Stuff
In my recent article, I laid out how Hong Kong Jockey Club and the Japan Racing Association operate with an entirely different mindset:
- Highly centralized authority
- No nonsense about who’s allowed where
- Layered integrity controls baked into the system
- Riders and officials who understand they’re part of a professional gambling machine, not a social club
Nobody over there is arguing about whether an integrity role should do a bit more to safeguard the game on a given day. Nobody is shutting down a race card because someone was told to log data by hand in case a computer glitch hits.
They’d be laughed out of the room. Here, we pause the show. The contrast is embarrassing if you’re honest about it.
The Jockey Room Is Not a Daycare
Some of this dust-up gets wrapped in this sentimental notion that the jockey room should be more “family friendly,” that wives ought to have more access, that the space should be more accommodating.
Let me say this as clearly as I can:
The jockey room is not a daycare, not a lounge, and not a family center.
It is a controlled-access area full of licensed wagering participants who possess inside information, have financial interests in the outcomes, and are at the core of a gambling product. That’s what it is. That’s what it always was. And that’s what it needs to be if you care about integrity.
Now layer in the obvious:
- Wives can bet.
- Girlfriends can bet.
- Friends can bet.
- They can place bets themselves or through others.
- They can share what they hear, what they see, and what they’re told.
Most of them are just living their lives. I’m not accusing anyone’s spouse of anything. But again, integrity is not judged by what probably happens. It’s judged by what can happen.
When you allow non-participants into a highly sensitive area, you create unnecessary risk and terrible optics. The whole point of a secure jockey room is to keep that tight, guarded, and clean.
You don’t have to like it. But if you’re serious about the integrity of a gambling sport, you accept it.
Racing Is a Gambling Sport, Not a “Family Sport”
This is where the industry loves to lie to itself.
We sell racing as “family friendly.”
We dress it up like a picnic.
We roll out influencers and soft-focus marketing and pretend this is all some wholesome lifestyle backdrop.
Let me break the news:
Racing may be enjoyed by families, but it is not a “family sport.”
It is a gambling sport.
It lives and dies on handle.
Every race is a financial event.
From the grandstand, yes — mom, dad, kids can show up, eat a hot dog, watch the horses, have a nice day. I’m all for that. We need fans. We need new blood. We need bodies through the gates and eyes on the product.
But inside the machinery — the jocks’ room, the backside, the stewards’ stand, the tote rooms — this is not family programming. This is business. And the business is driven by wagering. The integrity of that wagering has to come before comfort, convenience, or PR narratives.
Once you accept that, certain things become non-negotiable:
- Restricted access to sensitive areas
- No unlicensed bodies in the jockey room
- No mixing of family life with the integrity core of the game
- Officials like clerks of scales treated as pillars, not optional extras
If that’s “cold,” so be it.
Cold keeps the game honest.
Primadonnas in the Age of Crisis
Let’s zoom out even more.
This sport is under pressure from every angle:
- Shrinking foal crops
- Smaller fields
- CAW dominance and bettor distrust
- Regulatory overreach in some areas and underreach in others
- Handle going where trust and value go
We don’t exactly have a surplus of credibility to squander.
So when, in that environment, the jockey colony is willing to walk over how an assistant clerk of scales is handled or over rules about who can and can’t be in the room, it sends a message — and it’s not a flattering one.
They look like primadonnas who think the world revolves around their comfort.
Compare that to Hong Kong and Japan again:
Those riders operate under strict codes, relentless surveillance, and expectations that would make some of ours cry foul before the ink dried. But they accept it because they understand: the stronger the integrity, the stronger the game, the stronger the ecosystem that feeds everyone — including them.
Here, we want the respect of Hong Kong and Japan with the discipline of a reality show cast.
It doesn’t work that way.
The Clerk of Scales Should Be Backed, Not Undermined
Let’s go back to that assistant clerk of scales scenario one more time, because it’s actually the perfect metaphor.
Here’s an integrity official asked to do a bit more to ensure the system is solid. A manual record of the weights — a backup most serious outfits would consider basic procedure.
He balks. He’s told to leave.
That is management saying: This job matters. This procedure matters. If you won’t do it, you can’t be here today.
From a pure integrity standpoint, that’s exactly how it should work.
What happens next?
The jockeys rally around the assistant, not the principle. They side with the person who didn’t want to do the extra integrity step, not with the idea that the system should be bulletproof.
Do we know every detail? No. Could there be nuances? Always.
But from the outside, bettors see this:
- The one guy who was supposed to help make sure the weights were backed up didn’t want to do it.
- Management enforced it.
- Riders walked.
That is a brutal storyline if you care about how serious, or not, this sport looks from the outside. NYRA has what is likely their biggest and most important winter weekends coming up with The Cigar Mile, The Remsen and The Demoiselle on tap. Obviously something has to give before that happens.
Integrity Before Perks or Optics
If this game wants to survive, it needs to start prioritizing the right things:
- Integrity over perks
- Gambling reality over marketing fantasy
- Discipline over theatrics
You want Hong Kong/Japan-level respect? Then you adopt Hong Kong/Japan-level seriousness.
That means:
- The jockey room is a secure professional space, not a family hangout.
- Wives, kids, and relatives—welcome on the property, but not inside the integrity core of the operation.
- Clerks of scales and similar officials are empowered, backed, and expected to do everything necessary to protect the wagering product.
- Walkouts over integrity measures make you look like primadonnas, not professionals.
You can’t keep calling this a world-class sport and keep acting like the rules are suggestions or negotiable based on who’s in the room and how they feel on a given afternoon.
Racing is not a family sport. It’s a gambling sport that families can attend. There’s a big difference. The sooner we stop lying about that, the sooner we can fix some of what’s broken. Interesting to see how many of my jockey friends will still be talking to me tomorrow.
You either get it or you don’t.
