By Kevin Gleason
Times Herald-Record
kgleason@th-record.com
Benny "The Whip'' Webster has a message for today's harness racing drivers: Invest in a #$@% stopwatch.
Pardon the French, Webster says before uncorking the R-rated adjective, but he's sick of drivers misjudging race pace.
Hey, Webster's 63 years old with 4,318 wins under his belt. You want King's English, stay out of the backstretch.
And stay out of Webster's path. Chances are he won't give way, even Sunday when he races in the Battle of the New York Legends at Monticello Raceway.
Webster and 11 others will gather for a nostalgic afternoon at the Sullivan County oval. Three Hall of Famers – Carmine Abbatiello, Buddy Gilmour and Del Insko – will turn out to scrap for more than $8,000.
The gang represents more than 34,000 victories and purses in excess of $220 million.
"Haven't seen some of them since Moby Dick was a minnow,'' Webster chortles.
The 1960s and '70s stars are reminders of a kinder time in harness racing. OTB and several other factors have left the sport spitting the bit.
It's an industry, after all, that considers on-site casino gambling the savior. But not today. Not up Route 17 west where once the Mighty M and the Catskill resorts exchanged smiles.
"It was a beautiful place,'' says Frank Hopfinger, who will compete with brother Bill. "It was clean and neat. Everything was new.
"It's 30 years older,'' Frank sighs. "Like all of us, we deteriorate a little bit.''
"Almost difficult to sum it up,'' says Webster, who lives in Lincoln Park, N.J., near the Meadowlands. "There were good horses, good laughs, good parties. Most of us guys did good. We lived extremely well.''
Harness racing may be the only sport where you could make more money 40 years ago. Purses were better. Costs were less.
"Anybody today at Monticello training horses might better be on welfare,'' Webster says.
Webster ain't hurtin'. He owned a 40 percent share in a racer called No Nukes, sold it to a syndicate for $5 million and a neat $2 million profit.
Webster chuckles. Make that a $1 million profit. Ink was barely dry on the deal when he wrote a $980,000 check to cover his divorce settlement.
"That's life,'' The Whip says with a chuckle. "You just go with the roll.''
Sunday should be rollicking fun. There is Benny The Whip and Red Man Abbatiello and Steady Eddie Lohmeyer and Showbiz Bill Popfinger.
There aren't even good nicknames in the sport anymore.
"It's going to be a hell of a thing,'' says Webster, whose nickname is a joking reference to his days as a playboy.
Webster keeps a hand in the game with two horses stabled in Flanders, N.J. But he hasn't itched to get in the sulky. The other day someone asked him to drive and Webster said not unless the horse is 1-to-9.
Webster used to say he didn't want to lie down until he drove a fourth world champion. He is resigned to finishing his career with three champs.
But that's OK. Webster isn't trading in his years for anyone's.
"I'll tell you what,'' Benny The Whip says, "I've had not a good life but a great life.''