It’s sad, really, the whole situation. How the venue, Pimlico Race Course, for one of America’s most iconic sporting events and one of Baltimore’s great decades-old traditions, the Preakness Stakes, has been left to wither and die.

If you’ve been, there’s no shortage of evidence, from the unusable bathrooms a few years ago, to the 7,000 Old Grandstand seats the track’s owners have said are unsafe to sit in this year, to on Tuesday morning, when a water main burst, leaving a pair of craters in the parking lot just outside the historic-yet-dilapidated, 149-year-old facility’s administrative offices.

Even Pimlico’s jockey’s lounge, used sparingly throughout the year but which you expect would be in better condition for riders preparing for a nationally televised horse race with a $1.5 million purse, looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 1980s (the hand-crank manual pencil sharpener affixed to a desk is a giveaway). Plus, it has its own damage: The frayed net on a Ping-Pong table wouldn’t even allow a fair game.

The course’s crumbling state is all too obvious a symbol of the disarray that surrounds the Preakness Stakes. The ongoing legal and legislative battle and public posturing between Baltimore City and The Stronach Group—the Canadian real estate conglomerate and Pimlico’s owner—which hasn’t hid the fact it wants to move the Preakness 30 minutes south to a “supertrack” in Laurel, has been well documented. (Though we’ve yet to hear how new mayor Jack Young feels about the situation.)

Of course, it makes business sense for the track’s owners to want to have a state-of-the-art, year-round facility halfway between here and Washington, D.C., where they can attract the type of corporate dollars they want, while theoretically strengthening the state’s horse racing presence. And, outside from one weekend a year and the money that some residents of surrounding and blighted Park Heights charge visitors to park, the neighborhood sure doesn’t enjoy the type of long-term economic impact you would hope a legendary sporting event, and its home, could bring to a place.

The 110-acre Pimlico lot sits practically desolate for 50 weeks out of the year—the parking lots are used to do things like walk dogs—coming alive only for 12 days surrounding the running of the Preakness, the second jewel of the famed Triple Crown. When that happens, it only makes the warts more apparent to visitors. You won’t see them on TV, though. “Viewers won’t see the dumped mattresses, tires and garbage on desolate blocks, the high concentration of liquor stores and convenience shops,” is how The Undefeated put it in an article this week.

These hard truths don’t mean it’s easy—or right—to simply throw away one of the great traditions of the city, and the state. That might be why Maryland law says the Preakness can’t be moved from Pimlico for any reason other than “disaster or emergency.” It’s hard to imagine anybody wants a Colts 2.0, though at least this potential move is playing out publicly. In fact, when I visited Pimlico as the sun rose early Tuesday morning and joined one of the free public tours of its barns, I didn’t find one person there who wanted to see the track close down, even if they understood its crumbling condition.

It may have been a biased polling group, but our tour guide, Anita Slebzak, a lifetime horse racing enthusiast who started working at local tracks in 1978, certainly doesn’t want it to happen. “Having the Preakness is like having the Super Bowl or the World Series in your hometown every single year,” she said after guiding a group of nine people around. “I hope that they keep it.”

So does 32-year-old John Anderson, the security guard who tagged along with our group. He’s worked at the track on and off for 15 years; his mom has him beat, at 19. “I work here. My mom works here. My dad will be here tomorrow. My sister will be here on Preakness Day, and so will my will brother-in-law,” he said. From South Baltimore, the guy with gold front teeth and an endearing and infectious laugh isn’t sure if he’d be able to get to Laurel to work, should Pimlico close and its land redeveloped, unless transportation was part of the deal. “There’s no need to take it down,” he said, standing beneath the grandstands. “For what? You make a lot of money here, and it’s historic.”

Indeed, Frank Stronach, 86, a self-made billionaire who has sued his daughter, Belinda, for financial mismanagement of the family assets (and she vice versa), bought Pimlico, and Laurel, in 2002. Money, more money, could have been invested in the place a long time ago. Even so, just two years ago, on a nice weather day, Pimlico set single-day records for attendance (140,237) and handle ($97.16 million).

Even someone who you’d think would have rooting interest for the proposed new location for the state’s premier track, Louann Day, a retired communications official who lives within walking distance of the current Laurel Raceway and took a tour of Pimlico on Tuesday, said she hopes the venue stays right where it is. “This is iconic Maryland,” she said. “It’d be like taking crabs away.”

Gone not only would be the theater, pageantry, and buzz (Infield party or otherwise) of the 100,000-plus watching the running of the Preakness—a reason to celebrate, and we could sure use as many of those as possible. But also disappearing into thin air would be the small, charming moments, the type of early weekday mornings that leave an impression on plastic minds.

Like when Tim Tullock, a veteran outrider and racing analyst who sat on a horse near the start-finish line of Pimlico’s one-mile dirt oval and informed wide-eyed kids (and adults) about the nuances of horses. “Did you know horses can’t throw up?” he said, as a way of explaining that they can’t breathe through their mouth. Later he entertained his own kids, by video-chatting to them from horseback, as he rode about the property.

A few media members stalked the stables, looking for a glimpse of War of Will, one of the horses involved in the controversial Kentucky Derby finish two weeks ago. And security guards talked shop, one about the good old days when you could bring anything in on race day, even your own liquor. A second spoke of another reality. Part of his job Saturday? To retrieve the golf carts that kids from the surrounding divested neighborhood hop the Pimlico fences to steal. (Note: They have GPS in them, so they’re easy to find.)

Meanwhile, television crews ran wires from their many production trucks, in preparation for Preakness Day, making sure the electricity worked. “The Home of the Preakness,” the signage says nearby, a true statement until at least 2020. After then, we don’t know.

So the future of the iconic Preakness Stakes in Baltimore comes down to this: a political horse race.

In the red silks, from Canada and jockeying the betting favorite, is the Stronach Group. The entertainment and real estate conglomerate has long let it be known it’s had eyes on moving the second jewel of the Triple Crown from the historic-yet-dilapidated, 149-year-old Pimlico Race Course—open just 12 days a year—to a new renovated home a 30-minute drive south at Laurel Park, a 300-acre property the company also owns.

And in the blue wares is the city, represented by Mayor Catherine Pugh. She is urging lawmakers in Annapolis to go with the seemingly longer shot, and vote for a pair of bills to create a plan to redevelop Pimlico—“Home of the Preakness” as the signage says in its Park Heights neighborhood—and in grand $424 million style, as the Maryland Stadium Authority suggested in a December report.

Goal: to avoid a psychological equivalent of The Colts and the Mayflower Vans Part II, if instead $120 million in fast-tracked state bond funding is green-lit for the Stronach’s desired “supertrack” between Baltimore and Washington, D.C., and improvements to a training facility in Bowie, too.

State law says the Preakness can be moved to another track in the state “only as a result of a disaster or emergency.” Some, especially those that have seen the bathrooms, might say Pimlico’s condition already qualifies; it hasn’t been widely renovated in decades. But simply bad condition is likely not what the law’s writers had in mind.

Legislative action will be needed to move the area’s splashiest sporting event, and its venue, from the 110-acre plot of land west of the Jones Falls, as should be required for a tradition as rich in meaning as the Preakness.

Hearings begin Friday in the Maryland House and continue Wednesday in the Senate. Pimlico or Laurel? The debate is about to enter its most public phase.

In the last few weeks, both camps have made their cases in letters to Gov. Larry Hogan and state legislature leadership. The mayor came out swinging, saying “allowing a wealthy family from another country to use Maryland tax money for a racetrack to have as their anchor for the development of their 300-acre site in Laurel would be a travesty.”

She also inserted a commentary on the Stronach family’s ongoing drama (billionaire patriarch Frank Stronach, 86, has sued his daughter, Belinda, whom we profiled last year, for more than $500 million) and that the D.C. economy would benefit most from a Preakness situated in Laurel, not Baltimore.

A week earlier, Stronach Group COO Tim Ritvo described in his letter why a supertrack was ideal, and why the company sought state funds to build a state-of-the-art, year-round home for Maryland horse racing. Pimlico “has reached the end of its useful life,” he wrote. Ritvo reiterated the stance in an interview with Baltimore on Thursday.

“We think we can accomplish a lot of the same things at Laurel for a fraction of the cost, without using any state funding that isn’t already earmarked for racing,” Ritvo said, referring to money the Stronach Group currently receives annually from state slot machine revenue via Maryland’s Racetrack Facilities Renewal Program. (Since 2013, that’s totaled $22.5 million, which the company is required to match under state law, 90 percent of which it has spent on improvements at Laurel, not Pimlico, The Sun reported.) “From our perspective, we’re looking to consolidate two businesses into one that makes sense, rather than operating two facilities.”

That’s the business case. But tradition and reverence—in the form of a world-recognized event held every May within city limits and the assorted attached memories, like maybe a foggy infield party day in college—is what means so much to so many others.

Laurel has its advantages: more space, train links, better parking, for a few. But it will be different in a new place, with smaller total crowd size—at about 75,000 to 80,000 instead of the 130,000-plus that Pimlico attracts—and a more corporate feel. Laurel’s infield can’t be used because it’s a protected wetland, though the facility has plenty of room for an alternatively located “Clubhouse Fest” outside the track, as it does already for the Maryland Millions event.

We’ll see if the court of public opinion holds any sway over elected officials in the next several days. That might be the only hope the Preakness of old has of staying in Baltimore. Pugh has begged for city residents to travel to Annapolis to have their voices heard. Park Heights leaders have offered to bus up to 600 people to the hearings, but will the turnout be powerful enough?

“We will fight this with every fiber of our being because we believe, as is in statute, that the Preakness belongs to Baltimore,” Pugh said Wednesday.

We would love for the Preakness to stay right where it is, but it’s hard to make an argument for the city or state to spend $424 million, or even close to it, on a new racetrack while schools don’t have adequate heat, and while a police department could find an infinite number of uses for that kind of cash in a minute. The bills Pugh is lobbying for would create a working group to discuss financing for the Maryland Stadium Authority’s recommendations.

Most reasonable, even if it hurts to say considering Frank Stronach bought Pimlico and Laurel Park in 2002 and theoretically could have proactively worked to improve the former many years ago, is that the race heads to Laurel and the Pimlico site is redeveloped with public entertainment space, shops, restaurants, and the like, while Sinai Hospital also expands its neighborhood footprint.

Ritvo said Thursday that the Stronach Group is open to funding some of that redevelopment. “We don’t want to leave a barren land,” he said. “We would contribute at Pimlico on a private-public venture on the property to figure out what we could do and help enhance the neighborhood.”

As this debate enters its political homestretch, and as the circumstances are now, that might be the best-case scenario. But at least this isn’t happening overnight, and in moving vans. It’s public. Laurel needs significant improvements, too, hence the $120 million ask, if it is to host a Triple Crown race and a Breeders Cup and be open 200 days a year, as is the desire. The track wouldn’t be ready for that until at least 2021, Ritvo said, and there’s a lot of time between now and then.

Maybe this horse race is farther away from the finish line than it appears.

“Do you want me in shoes or boots?” Belinda Stronach asked one of her group’s PR reps before posing for a picture Saturday under cover at Pimlico.

The rain, of course, had soaked the grounds for a few days, and like the rest of those from the announced crowd of 134,487 who ventured to the infield at Preakness, mud now caked her footwear: a pair of tall, blue rubber Hunter boots. 

The 52-year-old president of the company that bears her last name, and the owner of Pimlico (and Laurel Park) race tracks, switched into a pair of heels and stuffed the empty environmentally-friendly storage bag from which they came into one her waterproof shoes, and photographers snapped a few shots.

The rapper, Ne-Yo, appeared beside her, and he lamented about the weather. “You know, though, I was just out in the infield,” Stronach said to him, “and the crowd is insane.” Indeed, around that time, video and pictures surfaced of some brave, and perhaps liquid-courageous, younger folk swan diving into the land of a thousand muddy lakes in front of the main concert stage. They’d shower later.

“It’s unfortunate,” Stronach had said earlier about the sloppy conditions, which figured to play a significant role in ending a four-year stretch of increasing attendance. Although Saturday’s gate, and handle ($93.65 million), were still the third largest numbers in the event’s 143-year history. And that was before an untimely dense fog settled in as the 6:49 p.m. post time of the big race approached. 

If you watched on TV and couldn’t see most the main event until the horses emerged like ghosts of races’ past at the top of the stretch, being there in person didn’t offer a much better view. “I was thinking it’s going to be tough on Larry Collmus, the track announcer,” Bob Baffert, the white-haired winning trainer, said. “I was joking, he’s probably saying, ‘They’re in the backside. I can’t see the horses, but there’s Post Malone,’” referencing the performer on stage in the infield.

So there was mud and fog, yes, but ultimately a big winner, by a head. Justify, the betting favorite ridden by 52-year-old (!) jockey Mike Smith, helped the Preakness do what it does: give the Triple Crown-interested world each spring a shot at seeing another winner in three weeks at the Belmont in New York.

There’s also, of course, that bigger lingering question of how much longer this scene—rain, shine, or otherwise—will unfold at the 148-year-old Pimlico facility, which showed all of its warts, and leaks, Saturday. Stronach Group COO Tim Ritvo addressed the event’s location, long a source of speculation and political maneuvering, in an informal conference in the press box earlier in the afternoon. 

And he basically pushed his ball closer to the group’s goal-line in Laurel, about 30 miles south, a location that’s three times the size of Pimlico that the Stronach Group has spent $30 million on in the last two years alone, and one that has train access to both Baltimore and Washington, D.C., and more room for parking and other amenities.

As it is, Pimlico is open for racing 12 days a year and needs a major reimagining and investment ($300 million, at least), which won’t come from the Stronach Group, Ritvo said, though he said the group is open to a state of city partnership if they, “feel strong enough and they want to build a facility here.” 

Meanwhile, Laurel is being positioned as a future venue for premier horse racing, like the Breeder’s Cup, and a place the Stronach Group would rather run races year-round to grow its business, with the type of corporate hospitality and facilities it envisions at other tracks in owns in California and Florida. (“What can be done today that will be sustainable for the next 40 or 50 years?” he told us earlier this year.)

“I think change is coming,” Ritvo said Saturday, “and it will be for the better . . . We’ll go to Laurel, and we’re still in the state of Maryland, and we’ll give you a better, more elevated and prestigious experience.”

The second phase of a Maryland Stadium Authority analysis of the topic is expected to be finished by the end of this year. A state law requires the Preakness be held at Pimlico, but legislation can been changed, of course, with the right influence. 

But yesterday, at least, the spectacle felt very much like Baltimore—with plenty of black-eyed Susans (on hats and in cups), overheard chatter about the Orioles’ woes, and the signature “O” being shouted during the National Anthem. It reminded us how surreal it would be to host the Preakness anywhere else.

If life was like a horse race, you could place a winning bet on where to find Belinda Stronach on the third Saturday in May: right in the middle of the spectacle that is Preakness Day at Pimlico Race Course. Inside a carefully designed two-story, glass-walled “chalet” erected on the track’s grass infield, Stronach will entertain local celebrities, politicians, and other guests in a glamorous Old English-style building whose décor she describes as “Ralph Lauren meets SoHo House.” The 52-year-old blonde’s designer attire will match appropriately.

Outside, college kids will party for hours (“It’s kind of legendary,” she says of the madness), listening this year to the music of Post Malone and Odesza. And, finally, after 6 p.m., in the 13th race of the day, a dozen or so thoroughbreds will sprint around the one-mile dirt oval. More than a hundred-thousand fans of all ages will scream, as . . . down the stretch they come . . . the second leg of the Triple Crown, and $1.5 million in prize money, is up for the taking in the iconic horse race’s 143rd running.

You may have never heard her name until today, but Stronach has been known simply as Belinda in headlines in her native Canada throughout her well-documented public life. She is a lifelong businesswoman with model-like looks, a former lightning-rod member of Canadian parliament, a breast cancer survivor, a twice divorced mother of two, and the heiress to her father’s self-made billion-dollar fortune. She is chairman and president of the Stronach Group, one of the world’s largest thoroughbred racing companies, which owns Pimlico, the historic-yet-dilapidated 148-year-old venue that hosts one of America’s most iconic sporting events, as well as the newer racetrack in Laurel, and four other premier tracks across the country.

That position makes her one of the most influential figures at the center of what will continue to be one of Baltimore’s hot-button issues in the months and years ahead. No, it doesn’t rise to the level of school funding, safety, or public infrastructure, but the question does pertain to one of the area’s beloved and well-known annual traditions, held nearly every spring since 1873 on the same plot of land in Park Heights: Will the Preakness stay at Pimlico? The question echoes in the minds of the city and state stakeholders inside the chalet tent, and it’s a question that Stronach, who is bent on modernizing one of the country’s most overlooked legacy sports, often asks herself. “We want to bring great events to Maryland,” she says. “The question is what is the appropriate stadium and venue for that?”  

The road to an answer is long and complicated. The second phase of a Maryland Stadium Authority analysis of the ideal Preakness venue is expected to be completed by the end of this year; the first phase estimated that Pimlico would need around $300 million in renovations. Maryland law states the Preakness can be moved “only as a result of a disaster or emergency,” but legislative acts with the right support could change policy, of course. In the meantime, Stronach’s perspective plays an important part in the story.

“It’s my responsibility first to look at it as a business,” she says. It’s an approach she first learned about when she dropped out of college after one year to take a position in her father’s auto-parts manufacturing empire, Magna International. By the age of 32, she was the organization’s executive vice president of human resources. Three years later, Magna’s board of directors recommended to her father that she take over as CEO of the $10.5 billion company with 62,000 staff members and offices and factories in 18 countries. Stronach then became Magna’s president in 2002.

Along the way, she piloted the spinoff of an entertainment division that eventually became the Stronach Group. And she encountered the realities of being a woman, and family successor, no less, in a male-dominated business world. “Who is this lovely lady?” an executive at Ford Motor Company asked a Magna junior executive at the start of a key meeting in Detroit in 2001, where Stronach was “dressed to kill,” as Canadian political journalist Don Martin wrote in his 2006 biography of Stronach, Belinda. She interrupted and introduced her colleague as her subordinate. “That’s why I never attend a meeting carrying a purse,” she said at the time.

From a personal standpoint, Stronach supports the #MeToo movement: “It’s messy, it’s imperfect, but the level of awareness that has now arisen as a result of very inappropriate behavior, specifically in the workplace, is a good thing,” she says. “Everybody has the right to come to work and do their job with dignity.”

Her father, Frank, an Austrian immigrant, instilled the value of pride in her. He built his company from mere pennies to a net worth estimated at $1.5 billion. Frank has a legendary passion for the horse business, owning tracks and animals that have won big races, (his Red Bullet took the 2000 Preakness). At 85, he still owns and operates a successful breeding farm, Adena Springs.

But while his daughter shared her father’s passion and penchant for business, she was indifferent to the track. In elementary school, “I wanted to do other things with my friends,” Stronach says. “But I had a couple of girlfriends who also went to the track, whose fathers were trainers, and we’d hang out and eat really crappy food, hot dogs and Coke, or something like that. I didn’t really like the experience very much. It kind of turned me off.”

What’s more, one of Stronach’s first memories of life was falling off a tractor and breaking her collarbone on the family’s farm in Aurora, Ontario, an opulent compound with an entrance adorned by wrought-iron gates and stone pillars topped with horse heads. In one of three houses on the property, Stronach eventually raised her two children, Frank Jr., who is now 26 and a music producer, and Nikki, 24, an accomplished equestrian, after divorcing their father, Magna executive Donald Walker, in 1995.

Stronach was married again for three years to Norwegian Olympic speedskater Johann Olav Koss before she exited the C-suite of Magna and made what was a surprising entry into the Canadian political scene. In 2003, she spent $2.5 million to run for the leadership of Canada’s new Conservative Party, came in second, and instead won a House of Commons seat in parliament representing her home district.

A year later, alienated by a limited role in the party, she shocked the country (think round-the-clock national TV coverage), and her then-boyfriend, Conservative deputy leader Peter MacKay, by defecting to become a Liberal cabinet minister. Voters reelected her in 2006, but a year later, she left politics for good after being diagnosed with breast cancer.

Many felt her departure was for the best. “The entire time she was here, she wasn’t in her natural habitat,” says award-winning Canadian political journalist Susan Delacourt, who broke the news of Stronach’s cancer diagnosis in 2007. She was also once rumored to be romantically linked to former U.S. President Bill Clinton, and had a relationship with former Toronto Maple Leafs hockey player Tie Domi.

But the fact is, for all the public attention, she’s a very private person. When she discussed her cancer treatment with the Canadian Press in 2009, talking about her decision to opt for a mastectomy and a right breast reconstruction, it was only to raise awareness and money for the University of Toronto’s cancer center.
This is all to say Stronach isn’t afraid to take an unorthodox approach.

“The word gets used a lot, but she’s a disrupter,” says her former spokesperson Greg MacEachern. “She will buck tradition when she thinks it’s time to shake things up a little bit. And if Belinda makes up her mind to do something, good luck trying to dissuade her.” Not long ago, a belief in horse-racing circles went that on the day Frank Stronach passes away, his daughter will sell the tracks, pack up what’s largely considered a dying business, and find something else to do almost immediately. But, despite her initial misgivings about the sport, that’s not the impression she gives off.

“I feel like all I’m doing 24/7 is horse racing,” Stronach says. The work is clearly a priority, but exhausting. “I just want to sleep in.” Indeed, she could use it, considering her typical schedule includes an early-morning workout routine, and she has gained a reputation for partying late into the night. Now, when she’s not working on business projects, Stronach, who still lives in Aurora, often dines and spends time with her children—and their friends—in nearby Toronto or out of town spots such as Wellington, Florida, where Nikki spent the winter riding and competing. “Basically, I’m sandwiched between a bunch of horse enthusiasts,” Stronach says. “I just go and have fun with them.”

She’s also just as likely to be found at home, watching an episode of The Crown on Netflix—she was particularly tickled when Queen Elizabeth (played by Claire Foy) discused her horse running in a race at Laurel. “That was kind of cool,” Stronach says. The track hosted the famed D.C. International from 1952-1994, and the Stronach Group is looking to revive the event.

Two months before Preakness, Stronach is talking about all the new plans her team have in place for this year’s event at Pimlico. One is a centralized stage for the music, as part of a redesigned infield intended to better blend the party with the corporate village. She’s worked on the details with I.M.P., which has been programming Preakness’ music since 2009.

Then there’s that new, larger Stronach Group chalet—where last year Gov. Larry Hogan, rapper 50 Cent, and a handful of Ravens players stopped by—and other double-decker suites, part of a bigger idea to create more space in the infield for people to watch the races instead of just enjoying the beer, wine, and non-equine entertainment. “You don’t have to do one or the other,” Stronach says. “That’s where the magic is.”

“This sport hasn’t innovated to the degree it needs to,” Stronach says. “It’s really the last great sporting legacy platform that has not yet modernized. That’s what we’re doing.”

And that strategy includes evaluating the facilities where the races are run. As far back as the 1950s, there have been discussions about moving Preakness to what was then a newly renovated Laurel Park. A 1958 bill to do it failed in Maryland’s general assembly by just one vote. Pimlico was 88 years old. It’s nearing double that now, and looks it. Stronach Group COO Tim Ritvo says the company has put $20 million into the facility in the past three years, spending some of that to replace old box TVs, demolish walls to provide greater visibility to the track,  and improve electrical and plumbing infrastructure. The goal is to create the type of facility that could generate Kentucky Derby-like revenue from premium seating, says Sal Sinatra, president and GM of the Maryland Jockey Club, which is controlled by the Stronach Group. In 2016, Sinai Hospital’s acquisition of part of Pimlico’s parking lot from the Jockey Club fueled speculation about the site’s future.

“I don’t think anyone wants it to disappear,” says Sinatra, who toured Pimlico’s grounds earlier this year with city officials, including Mayor Catherine Pugh, who has said she’s committed to keeping the Preakness at its historic location. “There is tradition and everything else. We all feel that way when we go up there. “I’m sure people will kick and scream either way, but at the end of the day, Baltimore is going to see a giant hole if it goes away . . . Can we use the infield for other things? Can we do music things? Can schools or someone else use the infield for ball games? It has to have life.”

At the same time, the Stronach Group is positioning its Laurel site, a 30-minute drive south with direct MARC train access and better parking, as a place that can host premier events. Laurel was purchased in 2002, and the Stronach Group has put $30 million into the facility in the past two years, renovating the grandstand and expanding the barn space because “eventually that will be where the horses will stable year-round,” Ritvo says. The track already runs races 150 days out of the year.

In her ideal world, Stronach says one “supertrack” would exist for the region. But she remains open-minded about the possibility of operating two facilities via public-private partnerships pending the analysis results. That study has already been delayed a year and alone carries a more than $420,000 price tag.

“For us, if we’re going to make the investment, it’d be better to have one track that caters to everyone,” Stronach says. “Having said that, we totally respect the tradition of the Preakness at Pimlico. It’s a complicated question. We don’t know how this will unfold, but we’re going to do what’s best for the sport and the fans.”

For now, the horses will once again run at Pimlico this Preakness Saturday. The swirl of humanity and pageantry in the nearly 150-year-old facility will be a sight to behold. And Stronach—the Canadian import running things from the top—will be at the center of it all, thinking about how the Sport of Kings can make it in modern America, even if that means bucking tradition to do so.

Correction: May 1, 2018: An earlier version of this article stated that Preakness was held in Park Heights every year since 1873. However, from 1890-1908, the Preakness was in New York and there were no races for three years from 1891-1893. Baltimore regrets the error.

The Sport of Kings was having a very pressing problem with its porcelain thrones. In the hours leading up to last year’s 140th running of the Preakness Stakes at Pimlico Race Course, a water-pressure issue forced track officials to close a number of bathrooms in the aging—many would say dying—facility after some toilets began backing up. That’s a serious problem at an event where tens of thousands of fans drink Black-Eyed Susan cocktails and Budweiser drafts as if a second Prohibition starts at sunset. “Every year it seems to be something,” says Sal Sinatra, president and general manager of the Maryland Jockey Club, which runs the race. “We’re just worried that this year it could be electric—or anything. It’s just an old building.”

That’s an understatement. In an industry where Gary Stevens was considered a relic in 2013 when, at 50 years of age, he became the oldest jockey to ever win the Preakness, the 146-year-old Pimlico facility is downright ancient.

Old Hilltop, as it’s known, is clearly losing its looks and suffering occasional plumbing issues (who among us isn’t?), but, at this point, those aren’t even its biggest problems. The lack of skyboxes and other modern amenities makes the Preakness far less profitable than its Triple Crown siblings, which is a major reason why statements Sinatra made on the brink of last year’s race sent shock waves through the city, state, and sports world.

In response to the question, “Is it conceivable that the Preakness should someday be at Laurel?”—referring to the Jockey Club-run track 25 miles south of Pimlico—he replied, “Actually . . . yes . . . I think by the end of the year, I’ll know if it’s going to be Laurel or not.”

The news of Sinatra’s candor spread faster than American Pharoah ran later that day, when he thrilled a record crowd of 131,680 by winning the second jewel of horse racing’s Triple Crown in a deluge.

Baltimore without the Preakness? That would be like Charm City without the Colts. Okay, bad example. But as the Stronach Group, which acquired the Jockey Club in 2011, spends millions on major surgery for Laurel Park while Pimlico gets Band-Aids, it’s fair to ask: Might the Preakness one day move? And if it does, what exactly will be lost?

Let’s clear up one thing about the Preakness’s future at Pimlico right out of the gate.

“It’s there for as long as I can see right now,” Sinatra says. “Nobody wants it to move. Maybe one year you’ll have to let Laurel [host] it because they’re renovating the entire grandstand, but other than that I would hope that Pimlico would last another 100-plus years.”

Since it opened in 1870, Pimlico has hosted some of the most famous races in history, including Seabiscuit’s 1938 victory over War Admiral. Over the years, attending the Preakness also has become a rite of passage for partying Marylanders.

“Back in the ’70s, you could do whatever you wanted. Literally,” says Mike Cray, an Ellicott City resident who has attended more than 35 Preakness races. “A friend of mine’s uncle had a funeral home, so we took a casket, lined it, and filled it with 60 cases of beer. We’d pick up a couch and a recliner and we’d make his and her porta-potty enclosures out of refrigerator boxes. We brought it all to the infield.”

The 146-year-old Pimlico facility is downright ancient.

A bit of the anarchic spirit wore off in 2009 when Pimlico banned fans from importing their own booze, but with concerts and plenty of drinking options in the InfieldFest, very few fans wake up Sunday without a hangover.

In the clubhouse, the crowd skews older and dressier, and cocktails tend to trump beer. Of the three Triple Crown tracks, Pimlico actually offers the best vantage points for spectators, says Hall of Fame jockey Jerry Bailey. The two-time Preakness winner now is an analyst for NBC Sports, which televises the race.

“Pimlico is the smallest of the three in terms of the grandstand,” he says. “The circumference of the track is the same size as Churchill Downs, but it gives you a much more intimate feel, like it’s closer to the racing surface itself.”

That’s where the favorable comparisons to the homes of the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont end. Bailey recalls a fire in Pimlico’s jockey room caused by an overloaded circuit breaker in 1998, and says the place is in a “state of disrepair.”

“The barns need a lot of work, that’s for sure,” says Bill Boniface Sr., co-owner and trainer of 1983 Preakness champion Deputed Testamony, the last Maryland horse to win. Still, he’d like to see Pimlico survive. “If it were to move, you wouldn’t be comparing apples to apples. You compare the great horses over the years at the same distance, the same time of year; you’d lose that if you took it somewhere else.”

Peeling paint, sagging floors, a dearth of 21st-century technology, and a general down-on-its-luck feel permeate Pimlico. No one knows this more than Sinatra.

“We’re limited on resources in terms of kitchen facilities and things like that,” he says. “The bathroom situation is a nightmare. It was built so long ago that it’s majority men’s bathrooms. You’ve got stairs to some bathrooms so people who are disabled can’t get to them. I think fans are expecting more nowadays.”

Meanwhile, last September, Churchill Downs announced it would spend $18 million to modernize its Turf Club and several other premium areas. From 2001 to 2005, the Louisville facility underwent a $121 million facelift in which the clubhouse was upgraded and 77 luxury suites were added.

Suites are the golden goose on which the Stronach Group is pinning its hopes for the future.

“On most measurements, we’re 50 percent of the Kentucky Derby,” Sinatra says. “We’re 50 percent of sponsorships, we’re a little more than 50 percent in handle. The thing that’s different is the Derby nets $55 million that weekend. We net $8 million. The main reason is we don’t have the luxury boxes—the stuff that a newer facility can offer businesses and wealthier people to get those numbers up.”

It’s not a matter of just renovating the existing facility. Because it was built on dirt, the grandstand can’t be expanded vertically, Sinatra says. Razing then rebuilding it, many people think, is the only solution, and that could cost upward of $200 million, a figure that leads to another tricky question.

Who’s going to pay for that?

Del. Sandy Rosenberg was born and raised in the 41st District, which he now represents. Except for college and law school, he has lived within walking distance of Pimlico his entire life. Losing the Preakness would be catastrophic for the city’s psyche and its pocketbook, he believes.

“It’d be like losing the Colts, but you’re not going to get the Ravens a decade later,” he says. “It’s like having a convention every year. There are a fair number of people who have discretionary income. They stay in hotels, they go out to eat and drink. They don’t just go to the track on Saturday.”

Visitors to the 2015 Preakness spent an estimated $10.6 million statewide, according to a Maryland Department of Commerce report. Indirectly, total Preakness-related spending was $33.6 million, and spending and employment from Preakness race-day operations and visitor spending generated about $2.2 million in state and local taxes.

That alone would seem like a good reason to renovate the track, despite the costs.

Rosenberg calls a 50-50 public/private financing split for a new facility “reasonable,” but other lawmakers are not convinced. Del. Pat McDonough has floated the idea of a new track at Port Covington because, he says, people would be more attracted to an event near the waterfront than up in Park Heights.

“The people that own Pimlico are not really interested in pouring any money into the development of that current site, nor do I want the taxpayers to put any money into that site. It’s too far gone,” McDonough says. “It needs a rebirth somewhere else. It needs to be part of a larger project, which would be, for example, an entertainment district where the new racetrack would be adjacent to an upscale marina, a hotel facility, and there would be theaters and restaurants.

“All the legendary horses have come through here. Laurel does not have that feel.”

“We’ve got to forget about emotional and sentimental attachments, because Pimlico at its present site and in its condition has no future,” continues McDonough, who calls a 1987 state law that bars the Preakness from leaving its current site a “paper tiger.”

Under Armour founder Kevin Plank, who entered the horse racing business in 2007 when he bought Sagamore Farm, is developing much of Port Covington. He believes the Preakness should always be in Baltimore, company spokesperson Diane Pelkey says, but the focus of Port Covington’s master plan is the Under Armour headquarters, and it does not include a track.

Governor Larry Hogan appears to be taking a wait-and-see approach.

“The Preakness is an important cultural institution and economic driver for the state and Baltimore City,” says Hogan’s spokesperson, Hannah Marr. “Governor Hogan supports keeping this iconic horse race in the city, where it has been a Maryland tradition for more than 140 years.”

The Stronach Group last year spent $20 million at Laurel Park building two 150-stall barns, adding a new simulcast room, installing hardwood floors, new carpeting, new bars and food options, and replacing old tube TVs with 850 flat-screens. It has more land, a more modern facility, and, most importantly, will host 129 days of racing this year, as compared to 28 at Pimlico.

In the meantime, however, this year’s Preakness on May 21 will feature a new 30-by-50-foot high-definition television screen in the infield, redone flooring on the second floor of the clubhouse, and, yes, working bathrooms.

“I’m hopeful that we’ll come up with a master plan for Pimlico just as we’re trying to do for Laurel,” Sinatra says. “My guess is you’re probably going to be talking to me in the next three to five years seeing where we’re at. We’re trying to find a way that three to five can be 30 to 50. It’s the second-oldest track in the country. All the legendary horses have come through there. Laurel just does not have the same feel. Our sport is built on history, and history is Pimlico.”