Age has rendered my misophonia increasingly insurmountable, and I find myself incapable of enduring the sensory onslaught of contemporary horse racing coverage. The dual-screen ordeal—balancing NBC/Peacock’s maudlin human-interest vignettes with FanDuel TV’s (né TVG) ceaseless barrage of adverts and inane commentary—has become an exercise in futility, and I will not and cannot do it. That FanDuel, with its on-site personnel and equipment, remains barred from broadcasting the very races it documents, epitomises the absurdity of it all.
My enthusiasm for this ‘sport of kings’ has clearly diminished, eroded by my growing distaste for its plutocratic cadre of owners and trainers—many of whom, no doubt, support the orange s**tbag. The gambling, the saccharine artifice of NBC’s storytelling, the ethical compromises demanded of any conscientious spectator—all now weigh too heavily. I revere the horses themselves; the kinetic poetry of a stretch duel remains unparalleled. Yet after years of looking the other way, my tolerance is just about exhausted, though I dearly wish it were not so.
I came to follow horse racing in my 30s, enthralled by the brilliance of Wise Dan, California Chrome, American Pharoah, and Arrogate, among others. Now, at 47, apparently my engagement must be relegated to archival footage on Youtube—a melancholy retreat, yet an inevitable and necessary one. Another passion succumbs to the attrition of time and disillusionment.
Television, in the main, is an assault on my senses. Apart from Sky News, TCM, and not much else, I simply cannot endure it. Since the 2022 World Cup, I have been seeking refuge in European football: its uninterrupted cadence (stoppage time is a blessing), the sonorous ebb and flow of the crowd—a tonic for my frayed nerves. And as one of English and German blood, I consider it a duty to connect with my heritage in some faint, but meaningful way. The atmosphere is transcendent.
So let me be clear—this is no declaration that I will no longer follow baseball, American football, hockey, nor even the turf in spite of what I outlined above. But it does exhaust far too much of the little energy I have. I yearn for a quieter, more civilised world, and with each passing day, I grow more acutely aware that I can no longer push my limits anymore. - Arthur Newhook, 2 May 2025.
Copyright 2025, Arthur Newhook. @Sunking278 on X-Twitter, and at the same handle on FACEBOOK. BLUESKY - @arthurnewhook.bsky.social. DONATIONS GRATEFULLY ACCEPTED at https://tinyurl.com/ArthurNewhook.
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