I’ve sat in those plastic seats. I’ve held the crinkly program with smudged ink. And yes—I’ve cheered. Twice. Both times in Texas. Let me explain. If you’d like the full narrative of those evenings, you can dive into Greyhound Racing in Texas: My Two Nights, My Mixed Feelings for every last detail.
The quick version
- Live greyhound racing in Texas is gone now.
- I went to Gulf Greyhound Park in La Marque—once in 2014 and again in 2015 before they shut live races down.
- It was fast, loud, and honestly, kind of fun.
- It was also tough on my heart. I kept thinking about the dogs.
- Today, you’ll find simulcast screens, not live dogs, and a lot of adoption groups doing the real work.
So, what did I actually see?
Night 1: Summer heat, fast dogs
It was a sticky Gulf night near Galveston. Gulf Greyhound Park sat just off I-45, bright and buzzing. I bought a program for a few bucks. The paper felt soft, like it had seen a hundred hands. Folks in Astros hats circled dogs with dull pencils. I learned the basics from the guy next to me—grades like A, B, C, Maiden. Boxes 1 through 8. Red jacket for the 1-dog on the rail. Blue for the 2. Pink for the 8. He told me, “If the 1 breaks clean, hold on.”
When the lure moved, the place shifted. The dogs burst from the boxes—more pop than I expected. The first turn was wild. You could feel the crowd lean. A woman behind me yelled for the 8, and I did too, even though I’d put two dollars on a simple quinella, 1 and 3. I didn’t win. I didn’t care. Not yet. That little blur they’re chasing is a mechanical hare, and I eventually got a backstage look at it in my hands-on review of a greyhound racing mechanical hare.
Food? Classic Texas track food—jalapeño nachos that burned a little, Frito pie that sat heavy, and cold Shiner cans. The speaker crackled. The tote board blinked. It felt like a tiny fair that only came alive for 31 seconds at a time.
Night 2: The goodbye feeling
I went back in fall 2015, when the chatter said live racing was ending. You could feel the last-chapter mood. Fewer families. More regulars. I stood near the rail for a 550-yard Grade A race. The red 1 dog hugged the inside like it knew a secret. The orange 7 swung wide and tried to sweep around. A tangle at the turn made the whole crowd flinch.
I placed small bets—an exacta here, a trifecta there. I hit one exacta for a tiny win and grinned like a kid. Then I watched a dog limp off after a bump. My stomach dropped. That’s the part people whisper about, but you can’t unsee it. The rush and the risk sit side by side.
The good, the bad, the gut check
What worked for me:
- The speed. It was pure snap. You feel it in your chest.
- The puzzle. Reading split times, rail bias, and early speed felt like a little math game.
- The people-watching. Old timers with systems. New folks asking “What’s a quinella?” It had charm.
What didn’t:
- The worry. My heart stayed in my throat, waiting for turn one.
- The noise and smoke inside parts of the building. My hair smelled like it.
- The dogs’ future. You can’t ignore that question once it pops up.
Where Texas stands now
Here’s the truth: live greyhound racing in Texas stopped. Gulf Greyhound Park ended live races in 2015. News outlets reported that Gulf Greyhound Park in La Marque, Texas, ceased live greyhound racing by January 1, 2016 due to dwindling attendance and competition from tracks in neighboring states, and the facility has since been converted into a 12,000-seat concert venue.
Places like Valley Race Park in Harlingen and the Corpus area don’t run live dogs either. You may still see simulcast screens at some facilities, but it’s not the same as hooves—or paws—on local sand.
If you want live greyhound racing, you’ll be traveling out of state. One place enthusiasts still talk about is the Jacksonville circuit—before making the trek, you might want to skim my honest take on Jax greyhound racing for a candid perspective.
For a broader look at how greyhound racing is evolving beyond Texas, take a peek at Western Greyhound for news, stats, and track updates.
A small detour that changed me
After my second visit, I met a foster greyhound at an adoption event in Dallas with GALT (Greyhound Adoption League of Texas). Her coat was brindle. Her eyes were tired and kind. She leaned on my leg like we’d met years ago. We kept her for a weekend. She slept hard. She chased nothing. She loved scrambled eggs. That sealed it—my head and my heart moved toward the dogs, not the races.
Is it worth it?
As a pure night out back then? It was exciting. The seconds flew. The math and the mayhem kept me locked in. But the flip side sat in my throat the whole time, and that part stayed with me longer than any ticket stub.
Now, with live racing gone here, the “worth it” question shifts. Would I hunt down a simulcast room just to bet a $2 exacta on a screen? No. If I’m driving for it, I’m going to a real track with horses, or I’m saving my gas and baking brownies at home. You know what? I still like the program puzzles, but I don’t need the dogs on the hook for it.
If you’re curious anyway
- Want the feel? Find a local spot that shows simulcasts and sit near regulars. Ask them why they like the 1-box or why late speed fizzles. You’ll learn fast.
- Want the heart part? Visit an adoption group event. Meet a retired racer. Let the dog pick you.
- Want the history? Ask an old fan about “trouble at the break,” box bias, and why the pink 8 can slingshot wide. The stories fly.
One more note for travelers who chase the last few live meets and then find themselves looking for post-race nightlife: if you’re interested in arranging adult companionship after the track lights go dark, the directory at fucklocal.com/escorts offers a curated list of verified escorts, complete with reviews and filters so you can discreetly find company that matches your preferences. Heading farther north toward Colorado and craving a more specialized experience? The listing at TS escort Longmont spotlights vetted transgender escorts in the Longmont area, complete with current photos and clear availability schedules so you can set up a hassle-free meetup without endless searching.
My final word
Greyhound racing in Texas gave me two vivid nights. I tasted the salt air, heard the gate snap, and felt the crowd swell. I also felt the knot that comes with it. Today, I choose the dogs—walks, couches, and goofy zoomies in the backyard. The races? They’re part of Texas history now. And maybe that’s where they should stay.