Pig racing brings squeals of delight

The two are among the 16 swine bringing squeals of delight once again to the San Mateo County Fair. For the pair, the trek back to the fair is a return home after being purchased by Ham Bone Express owners Charlie and Carol Boger from a local 4-Her who actually hoped his creatures would grow up to be racing pigs.

The express’ travels through the county fair circuit stopped in San Mateo County last week and if history is any indication it will provide a slice of hog heaven for bleachers packed with cheering kids and adults trying to make a little bacon with bets on their favorite pig. Last year, the races proved so popular their number of YouTube clips surpassed that of other fair events, including concerts, said Fair Manager Geoff Hinds.

Their cult celebrity might be lost on the pigs, however. The animals, which race in groups of four with a numbered bandana strewn across their backs, seem a little more motivated by food than by the attention.

In fact, all it takes is a couple of Oreos and a few trips around the track to turn a piglet into a racing starlet, said Charlie Boger.

But don’t even think about enticing a pig with a knock-off cookie — they want Oreos and only Oreos.

"We tried to get Nabisco to sponsor us but they didn’t respond,” Boger said.

On Friday morning, hours before the fair opened its doors for the first time, four four-week-old piglets piled in front of a space heater while their road-tested counterparts vied between drinking water and snorting in adjoining pens. The siblings tend to get along but when they don’t, a spritz of Febreeze on the ears does the trick.

"They don’t like the taste,” Charlie Boger said.

The racers are divided into groups. There are the Hollywood Pigs — which in addition to the two local pigs can include Nicole Pig-man, Mel Gibs-ham, Lindsay Lo-ham, Brad Pig and Britney Spare Rib. The Political Pigs can include Arnold Schwarzen-pigger. During the last presidential election, Al Boar was particularly popular.

The names are a mixture of popular culture and creativity over a glass of iced tea each night, the Bogers said.

The joy of the crowds — including the glee the fun names bring — is what keeps the Fayetteville, Ark.-based Bogers in the pig racing business. Charlie Boger, 55, comes from an entertainment family; his father was a rodeo clown and a brother is also in the pig racing field. Boger said he tried a real job for a while but was lured back by the pigs and their fans. Carol Boger, 45, was a soybean researcher at the University of Arkansas before joining her husband’s venture.

Both said the approximately 18 minutes of pig racing per set beats anything about their former vocations. In their downtime, the couple scour the fairs they attend for new animals.

An average pig will run for about two seasons, not because they blow out their knees or suffer other athletic trauma but because the crowd likes to see the babies, said Carol Boger.

And where do the pigs go after their tour of duty?

"We’re like the army. We don’t ask,” Boger said.

While the racing pigs are changed out with new blood, the fate of two animals seem pretty secure.

Elvis, whose black hair is reminiscent of his namesake, doesn’t race but serves as a de facto mascot in a pen adjacent to the track. He sits and twirls in a circle on command.

Pigs are smart as dolphins and humans, said Charlie Boger — "and there’s some humans I’d question,” he added.

When Elvis was smaller, kids took photos with him but at six months and growing he’s a bit too big, Carol Boger said.

Big isn’t even the word to describe Wilbur, the 1,000-plus pound boar relaxing in the tent behind Elvis. For $1, people can gaze at the five-time world record holder. If they’re lucky, Wilbur might even see him playing with his black bowling ball. He likes to bowl but his average is lousy, Carol Boger jokes.

Like a typical 6-year-old, Wilbur also likes people and baths, she added.

Prior to the fair opening, Wilbur got a good scrubbing with Garnier Fructis shampoo. Carol Boger said she wanted him to smell good but took no responsibility for his breath. He likes pears and plums — you don’t even have to pit the fruit — but isn’t too partial to mangos, she said.

The Bogers saved Wilbur from the slaughterhouse and now enjoy watching the surprise of people first setting eyes on his size. Peals of "Oh, my God,” are the common reaction, she said.

"A lot of people find religion in this tent,” Carol Boger said.

Michelle Durand can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 102.