Vet Records: Who Should and Who Shouldn’t See Them
Should Veterinary records be Public, not as easy a question as one may think.
” Do You Have a Key to The Wire Room?”
The Marshall Gramm saga has brought a lot of things into the light, or perhaps more accurately, back into the light. One of them is an old debate in horse racing that sounds remarkably easy until you actually think about it: Should veterinary records be public?
As a bettor, my knee-jerk answer should probably be yes. Give me everything. The more information I have, the better decision I can make. I have spent most of my life trying to know something the person standing next to me at the windows, or looking at their ADW app doesn’t know. Information is currency in this game and always has been. Veterinary information can absolutely influence a wagering decision. It might tell me to bet a horse. More likely in some circumstances, it might tell me not to bet one. But that doesn’t make the answer yes. It doesn’t make the answer no either.
This is one of those rare issues in racing where I can see both sides of the coin, and neither side gets to pretend the other one doesn’t exist. The Gramm saga put a spotlight on confidential veterinary information because HISA alleged Gramm improperly accessed confidential horse-health information on horses with which he was not connected and used it in wagering and claiming decisions. HISA’s system restricts access to those records. Whatever anyone thinks the policy should be going forward, obtaining information you are not entitled to obtain under the existing rules is an entirely different question from arguing that the information should have been public in the first place. The Gramm situation nevertheless raises the larger question: Why was some of this information confidential at all? If veterinary information can be valuable enough to influence sophisticated wagering and claiming decisions, does the betting public have some right to it? Maybe. But be careful what you wish for.
Hong Kong is probably the best place to start because the Hong Kong Jockey Club provides considerably more veterinary information to the public than American racing traditionally has. Significant veterinary findings, surgeries and other physical issues can become part of the information available on a horse. That is transparency in a meaningful sense, and I like a lot about it. There is also a rather large difference between Hong Kong and the United States. Hong Kong doesn’t have the American claiming game. That changes the equation considerably.
In a private purchase of a racehorse, I can have the horse vetted. I can hire my own veterinarian, examine the horse, take radiographs, scope the horse, review whatever information is available and decide whether I want to write the check. At a public auction, I can inspect the horse, use the repository, bring veterinarians and advisers and decide whether I want to raise my hand. In a claiming race? Welcome to the casino.
You put the claim in before the race and, subject to the applicable voided-claim protections, you bought the horse. You don’t get to walk into the stall beforehand with your veterinarian and conduct a pre purchase examination. You are buying a living, breathing athlete without the due diligence that would be considered perfectly normal in almost any other significant horse transaction. That is one of the reasons I have never liked claiming. Actually, let me say that more accurately. I am adverse to claiming altogether. I understand why it exists. I understand the role it plays in American racing. I understand that condition books need races for horses at different ability levels, owners need opportunities to move horses, trainers need places to run them and racetracks need horses to fill races. Eliminating claiming without providing a viable alternative isn’t a solution. I don’t have that alternative sitting in my pocket, and pretending I do would be dishonest. But neither should we pretend the inherent problem doesn’t exist.
There has always been an economic incentive within the claiming game to drop a horse to a level where somebody might take him. Sometimes the drop is perfectly legitimate. Horses lose form. Horses get older. Conditions disappear. Owners change plans. A $50,000 horse becomes a $25,000 horse because that is what he is worth now. Sometimes, however, there is another side to it. Running a less-than-perfect horse at a level where somebody else might take the problem off your hands is one of the inherent flaws of the claiming system. Voided-claim rules were implemented as an important layer of protection, and they were needed. If a horse comes out of a race lame or meets the applicable veterinary criteria, the claim can under certain circumstances be voided. That protects the claimant and, more importantly, creates another layer intended to protect the horse. It doesn’t turn a claiming race into a pre purchase examination. That is where veterinary disclosure becomes much more complicated in the United States than simply saying, “Hong Kong does it, so we should too.”
Now put my bettor’s hat back on. Would I like to know that a horse has had a significant tendon issue? Of course. Would I want to know about meaningful lameness, an important respiratory abnormality, throat surgery, a significant bleeding history or another physical issue that could reasonably affect today’s performance? Absolutely. Would I want to know about shock-wave therapy? You bet I would.
Shock wave deserves particular attention because this is not some theoretical discussion about whether bettors should know a horse got a massage Tuesday morning. HISA imposes stand-down periods associated with shock-wave treatment and requires it to be reported. The rules even contemplate horses being removed from racetrack grounds in an attempt to evade those reporting requirements.
Anyone who has been around this game long enough knows why that matters. Shock-wave therapy has been done off grounds to hide it, including close to races. That isn’t proprietary horsemanship. If a horse is being taken somewhere to receive a treatment that is subject to a regulatory stand-down and the purpose is to conceal the treatment so the horse can race inside that window, we aren’t debating transparency anymore. We are talking about potential rule evasion. That belongs on the other side of the line. But where exactly is the line?
Suppose I am an honest-as-the-day-is-long trainer. I don’t cheat. I don’t use illegal drugs. I don’t play games with withdrawal times. I don’t hide treatments from regulators. I simply know some things about taking care of horses that other trainers don’t know. Maybe I pay extraordinary attention to dental care. Anyone who has spent enough time around horses knows dental problems can be much more significant than people realize. There can be infections in the gums and mouth that are missed or ignored. Maybe I have learned to identify and correct those problems and my horses consequently eat better, carry themselves better, feel better and perform better. Do I have to tell every trainer on the grounds what I’m doing?
What if I have become particularly good at recognizing and managing ulcers? What if I use completely legal therapies, acupuncture, massage, different recovery routines, particular shoeing approaches, feeding programs or other methods developed through thirty years of horsemanship? Should all of that become public because somebody is betting on my horses? I don’t think so. And that is where the bettor in me has to be intellectually honest. There is a difference between information about the physical condition of the horse and information about how a horseman practices his craft.
Interestingly enough, HISA’s own framework recognizes that distinction. When horses change hands through claims, required medical and treatment information follows them, while HISA guidance specifically distinguishes those records from training techniques or protocols. Think about what that means. The regulator itself has acknowledged that medical history and proprietary methodology are not necessarily the same thing. That is an important distinction because otherwise where does transparency end?
Does the public have a right to know a horse changed bits? Shoes? Feed? Exercise riders? Training patterns? Turnout schedules? A massage program?
Does the public have a right to know that a trainer discovered a subtle problem nobody else noticed and developed a completely legal way of managing it? If the answer is yes because “people are betting money,” then logically virtually nothing inside a racing stable can remain private. I can’t get there.
Legal innovation and good horsemanship should not become public property merely because there is a pari-mutuel pool attached to the race.
There is another uncomfortable truth bettors have to acknowledge. We wager into a game of imperfect information every day. I don’t know everything a trainer knows. I don’t know everything an exercise rider knows. I don’t know everything the clocker saw. I don’t know what the jockey told the trainer after the last race. I don’t know whether a horse schooled beautifully in the paddock Wednesday morning after previously losing his mind there. I don’t know every equipment adjustment, feeding change or training decision. Neither do you. We know that when we bet.
The objective has never been to make sure every bettor possesses identical information. If it were, there wouldn’t be much of a handicapping game left. The objective should be to make sure everybody plays under the same rules and that material information the sport determines belongs to the public is available equally to everyone.
That brings us right back to Gramm. The problem alleged in the Gramm matter wasn’t merely that one bettor knew something another bettor didn’t. That happens in racing every day. The allegation involved access to information designated confidential under the rules by someone who wasn’t authorized to have it. That is an entirely different proposition. The Gramm saga can still force racing to ask whether too much information has been designated confidential. I think that is a fair question. In fact, I think racing should ask it. But don’t answer it emotionally. The answer isn’t publishing every veterinary note on every horse. I think there is a better way.
There should be a public layer containing standardized, material veterinary information. Significant injuries. Meaningful lameness. Major respiratory findings. Relevant surgeries. Veterinarian’s List history. Shock-wave treatments and the corresponding stand-down period. Other defined medical events that materially concern soundness, safety or the reasonable assessment of a horse’s physical condition. Dates. Status. Cleared or not cleared. No novel. No veterinarian’s private running commentary. No trainer’s playbook.
Then there should be a second layer: the comprehensive medical record available to regulators and, where appropriate, transferred to the new responsible connections when ownership changes through a claim. HISA already has substantial reporting requirements and a framework for medical information to follow claimed horses.
Finally, there should be a protected area for legitimate horsemanship: training methods, feeding programs, routine therapeutic management, massage, legal recovery techniques, dentistry protocols, equipment theories and other knowledge developed by trainers who are simply better at certain aspects of caring for horses than their competitors.
The horse’s medical history belongs in one conversation. The horseman’s knowledge belongs in another.
There will be gray areas. Ulcers are a perfect example. A clinically significant condition affecting a horse’s health and performance might belong in the public disclosure category. A trainer’s proprietary program for preventing and managing ulcers probably doesn’t. Dentistry is another. A significant infection requiring treatment may be a fact about the horse. A trainer’s routine of having every new horse examined by a particular dental specialist because he has learned something his competitors haven’t is arguably a fact about the trainer.
And that is why simply screaming TRANSPARENCY doesn’t solve anything. Transparency about what? To whom? For what purpose? For how long?
There may even be different answers for different participants. The betting public may deserve standardized disclosure of material physical conditions. A person who successfully claims the horse may deserve considerably more medical information because he now owns the animal and is responsible for its care. Regulators should have access to everything necessary to enforce the rules and protect the horse. Those three parties don’t necessarily have to receive identical information.
There is also something else worth remembering from a betting standpoint. Veterinary information isn’t going to magically make winners out of losers. Would I use it? Absolutely. Would it occasionally make me bet a horse I otherwise wouldn’t? Probably. Would it make me stay away from a horse I otherwise loved? Definitely. But a tendon notation isn’t a Beyer figure. An ulcer diagnosis isn’t a trip note. A throat operation doesn’t tell you whether the horse is fast enough to win Saturday’s fifth. It is another piece of the puzzle. And once everybody has the same piece, the betting market will begin pricing it accordingly anyway.
That may ultimately be one of the greatest ironies of the Gramm saga. Confidential information can possess tremendous wagering value precisely because it is confidential. Once everyone gets it, it becomes another variable for the market to digest. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t disclose it. It means we should disclose information for the right reason. Protecting horses is the right reason. Ensuring material information isn’t secretly available to a privileged few is the right reason. Protecting someone buying a horse sight unseen through the claiming box is the right reason. Giving regulators the information necessary to enforce medication, treatment and safety rules is unquestionably the right reason. Making every piece of knowledge inside a trainer’s barn public because somebody somewhere might find it useful in a Pick 5 isn’t.
Transparency should follow materiality, not curiosity. The bettor doesn’t have an absolute right to know everything that has been done to a horse. The trainer doesn’t have an absolute right to conceal everything that has been done to a horse either. Somewhere between those two absolutes is where racing has to land.
I have spent most of my life betting horses. If you offered me more legitimate information tomorrow, I’ll take it. I would be foolish not to. But I also know the rules when I walk up to the window or open my phone. There is risk in this game. There is uncertainty. There is information I have that you don’t have and information you have that I don’t have. Finding it, interpreting it and deciding what matters is called handicapping.
What none of us should have is information the rules say we’re prohibited from having while other players don’t even know it exists. Marshall Gramm brought that uncomfortable issue back to racing’s doorstep. Now that it is here, we should have the conversation.
Just don’t pretend the answer is easy. It isn’t. Because ultimately this debate isn’t really about transparency versus secrecy. It is about deciding where the horse’s history ends and the horseman’s knowledge begins. And racing better be very careful drawing that line.
There is definitely a flip side to this coin:
