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POETIC JUSTICE IN THE PREAKNESS?
By John Day
NEW YORK—Now might be a good time to review the 137th Run for the Roses since the Derby vortex has stopped swirling like a tornado through Louisville and the Triple Crown caravan has moved on to Baltimore.
The Kentucky Derby always seems to spring surprises on horseracing fans and this year’s race was no exception. From the noise of Uncle Mo “will-he-or-won’t-he scratch” pre-race melodrama to the incendiary comments made by Team Valor’s Barry Irwin on his way to the winner’s circle, Derby 137 had enough story lines to fill an online library with ebooks. “A mile and a quarter with no oats or water” once again stamped itself as a distinctly American sporting event that captivates the world.
Nearly as surprising as the winning payoff on Animal Kingdom was the size of the crowd at Churchill Downs. It stood to reason that Cannonade’s 100th Derby in 1974 historically would have had the largest crowd in history, but it is somewhat puzzling why so many people showed up for this year’s event. Once potential superstar Uncle Mo scratched on Oaks Day (which was, by the way, among the worst-kept backside secrets in Derby history), then one can only conclude that the drawing power of the race itself is what motivated more than 164,000 fans to swarm Churchill on May’s first Saturday.
Once the race had been run and the boxcar exotic tickets had been cashed, casual fans turned their attention to other sports events, the attention of the horseracing world shifted northeast to Baltimore and Louisville began to recapture the convivial and more relaxed rhythms that define the city for 51 weeks each year. However, I felt the obligation immediately after the race to try to explain to a few confused fans why Uncle Mo declaring from the race Thursday evening/Friday morning was such a big deal to those of us who bleed Bluegrass.
Scratching a horse prior to a race is done for a variety of reasons, which are almost always due to the best interests of the horse’s health. However, scratching on the dawning cusp of the Derby isn’t the same as opting against running in the third race at Charles Town.
Todd Pletcher and Mike Repole were within their rights to scratch Uncle Mo. Few would argue the point. However, some might question why Uncle Mo was entered in the first place since by entering and then scratching the horse his connections precluded the entry of another deserving 3-year-old colt. In this case, that horse was Sway Away. Pletcher and Repole had another runner in the Derby, Stay Thirsty, so thankfully the ambitious owner got to bask in the spectacle of owning a horse in the world’s most famous horserace for the first time.
However, Derby history runs deep with heartwarming stories about rags-to-riches colts (Canonero II and Mine That Bird are two examples) that defied odds, logic and conventional wisdom to stand triumphantly in the most hallowed winner’s circle in racing. Running in the Derby can be a once-in-a-lifetime experience that validates and cements careers that have been spent caring for fragile horses. Archarcharch’s participation this year was the culmination of Jinks Fires’arduous efforts over decades.
To have entered and then scratched Uncle Mo at the 11th hour without a clear explanation when the attention of the world was focused on Churchill Downs was an act that deeply stings those of us who hold Kentucky and its traditions dear. While it certainly wasn’t a malicious act, it might appear callous to some. Clearly, Team Mo would have relished nothing better than having a healthy horse in the race.
Consider this inexact analogy: What if you and a “Plus 1” had received and accepted an invitation to the royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. The date for the event arrives and you show up solo at the wedding without offering an explanation to your hosts explaining the absence of your Plus 1. Some people might find that odd and disrespectful.
Kentuckians hold the Derby in that high a regard.
This New Yorker received many phone calls, texts (“mo scratches. bet on it.”) and emails from the Commonwealth asking what the connections of Uncle Mo were thinking in entering what appeared to be a compromised animal. While I certainly don’t have any inside knowledge of the events leading up to the decision to scratch, as a long-time racetrack observer I can only guess that they took the colt off his meds in order to get him ready for race and he didn’t respond well. While that fact seems almost self-evident, this is where casual racing fans may have lost perspective. They might think, “No big deal, Uncle Mo’s people decided to scratch him.”
However, it is a big deal in Louisville. If hundreds of knowledgeable, informed and“dialed-in” racing fans know that Uncle Mo would most probably scratch even before Repole paid the $25,000 entry fee…then it’s probably not a good idea to enter him in the first place and thereby keep Sway Away from being loaded into the starting gate. Thankfully, Sway Away is expected to run in the Preakness.
When the sun shines bright on My Old Kentucky Home, the purist racing establishment would appreciate it if everyone participated in the Derby in the same affirmative, supportive spirit in which the race has been contested on the same strip of dirt since 1874. Give somebody else the chance of a lifetime.
Kentuckians are funny that way. Particularly about the Derby.
Third place in the Wood and then put out to pasture shouldn’t be how racing fans define Uncle Mo. There might be only one set of circumstances worse: should Sway Away win the Preakness, then by Sunday morning Uncle Mo would be the colt that kept him out of the Derby starting gate and a potential shot at the Triple Crown.
The two-year-old champion deserves a far better legacy than that, especially if it turns out that Uncle Mo never leaves the WinStar Farm pasture where he is turned out now.
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Wednesday, December 17, 2008
TRAINERS SWING FROM AN EMOTIONAL PENDULUM AT AQUEDUCT
Jamaica, NY—On the year’s last day of significant racing in New York, Larry Jones had a winner that showed early Derby potential and Nick Zito lost a veteran horse in the waning sunlight on Saturday, November 29th. Old Fashioned (Unbridled’s Song—Collect Call) got a rocking chair ride on the front end and lulled the field to sleep in the $200,000, 1 1/8-mile Remsen. Ramon Domingez was allowed to get away with a 24.2 first quarter on his way to a 1:38.1 mile as he drew off to a 7-length win. The running line in the chart read, “Good, under wraps final 1/8.” The $600k purchase by sire Unbridled’s Song didn’t appear to turn a hair. Jones has many options with Old Fashioned. It is a long time and distance and it takes wheelbarrows full of luck and manure to get from a graded stakes win in Ozone Park, Queens in late November to the feature race on the first Saturday in May in Louisville. However, it appeared that Old Fashioned went to the lead on his own courage and could have repelled any serious threats that day. Dominguez barely moved a muscle and even sneaked a peek between his legs in deep stretch looking for competition. Plus, “Old Fashioned” is perhaps the most perfect Derby-sounding name of all time. “I ‘member when Old Fashioned won by daylight back in ’09. That horse closed like Rumbo!” is the kind of sentence that you might imagine hearing an old hardboot say around mid-century while kicking blades of Bluegrass in the Commonwealth. The race after the Remsen was the $300,000 Cigar Mile. Two familiar names from the Triple Crown trail, Tale of Ekati and Harlem Rocker, dueled down the stretch while racing forward and moving back and forth across the track. The result was a nose photo finish, with two added twists: 1) Zito’s Wanderin Boy was pulled up in distress heroically by the jock at the top of the lane, avoiding a possible disaster; and 2) Harlem Rocker appeared to lug in during the stretch run. The “STEWARDS’ INQUIRY” sign went up immediately after the race. It wasn’t clear whether the subject of the inquiry was Wanderin Boy or Harlem Rocker. Possibly, both. Harlem Rocker was disqualified and placed second, with Tale of Ekati declared the winner. From the Cigar, Wanderin Boy was vanned off and later euthanized. Another Derby dream lives for Larry Jones while a 7-year-old gives his life to the track and Nick Zito. One new race that Jones and other trainers of promising three-year-olds have available this year is the first running of the Kentucky Derby Challenge Stakes from Kempton Park Racecourse in England. Churchill has partnered with Kempton to establish a showcase race early in the British racing season that will make the winner of the $150,000 race eligible for a spot in the starting gate in the Derby, plus a $100,000 bonus for simply running in Louisville. The Challenge will be contested over 1 1/8 miles, on Polytrack, under lights at night, run clockwise. If your English thoroughbred can run fast and far on plastic late one March day and turning right, then the Challenge might be perfectly suited. Doesn’t sound as though the race was written with many American horses in mind. There must be a breeding cross that would produce that unusual European nick. The race could provide a springboard for a European-based horse to compete in the Triple Crown series. Historically, the English racing season has few graded stakes early in their year so European-based horses are at a disadvantage when trying to earn a berth in the Derby starting gate which is based on graded stakes earnings. The Challenge clears the path for more international interest in the American racing scene, particularly interest in the form of fans’ attention and betting dollars. There is precedent for an English horse running well in the Derby. In 1986, Bold Arrangement shipped in from Great Britain, prepped in the Blue Grass and was one masterful ride by Bill Shoemaker aboard Ferdinand away from wearing the garland of roses. Trainer Clive Brittain ran Bold Arrangement in the Breeder’s Cup at Aqueduct as a two-year-old and then in the Blue Grass at Keeneland so he was used to racing counter-clockwise on dirt. The winner of the Kentucky Derby Challenge Stakes wouldn’t have the same sort of American experience that Bold Arrangement had in 1986. Still, it is a very positive development for international thoroughbred racing that Churchill and Kempton are willing to give it a go. Pints and crisps, mate?
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Tuesday, January 30, 2007
It’s All About the Horses
New York:On a sad day when the valiant Barbaro has been euthanized, the thoughts and prayers of true racing fans go out to Roy and Gretchen Jackson for their loss. Whatever fans might feel collectively, the pain must be exponential for the Jacksons.
The Jacksons declined to do what many would have done in their position. They turned down an insurance payment for the incapacitated Derby hero and instead reached into their own hearts (and pockets) to give the horse every chance to fulfill his destiny as a sire of champions. The process was wrought with peril, though, and despite Herculean efforts by Dr. Dean Richardson Barbaro lost the battle this morning.
His passing is all the more discouraging because of the chaotic state of horseracing in New York at the moment. Depressing, really. True fans are diminished by the passing of a noble thoroughbred like Barbaro. At the same time, New York and NYRA have reduced racing here to a laughingstock. Horses and their welfare are the furthest thing from people’s minds here about now.
NYRA is suing the government on shaky legal and logical grounds in a futile attempt to retain the racing franchise beyond 2007, while Excelsior (headed up by Steve Swindal, George Steinbrenner’s son-in-law) has grandiose plans to bring in casinos and slot machines to prop up the ailing industry.
Swindal and his lot speak breathlessly about infusing money into racing by co-opting other forms of gambling, and also by making wagering on horses easier through the use of wireless hand-held devices that will render the anachronistic and unseemly OTB franchise irrelevant.
Golly, that sounds like a swell way to generate cash. But it has nothing to do with horses.
Barbaro’s noble shadow dominates the thoughts of all fans of horses today. New York will sort out this mess by throwing absurd amounts of money at the problem, all the while ensuring that Albany gets their pound of flesh.
Yet fans of racing know that we lost a Derby winner today in the most heart-wrenching fashion imaginable, with the whole world watching. For anyone who has ever held a bridle, mucked out a stall or enjoyed watching a horserace without any money bet, today is a dark day.
All proud Kentuckians died a small death this morning. Gamblers never missed a beat. Therein lies the difference among the crowd at a racetrack. It’s perceptible.
Fans know that Barbaro embodied all the reasons why we love horses. –John Day
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Monday, August 21, 2006
Bluegrass Ambassadors
by John Day
Chances are, if you’re reading this blog, you are a resident of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, have spent time there, or, have a keen interest in warmbloods. As a proud Bluegrass Ambassador, you must have the following three vital pieces of information about horses:
First, horses have compound eyes rather than complex eyes like humans. When we look at things, we see color, depth and composition. When horses see things, they are more two-dimensional in a rather colorless environment. And, as an object enters their field of vision there is actually a point at which the horse switches from binocular to monocular vision, thus creating a momentary “blind spot:” that often spooks the animal. Horses do not rely on vision for a great deal of the information about their world. In fact, their evolutionary “flight” defense mechanism allows them to outrun the prey and analyze the details later.
Second, horses have small brains. However, it annoys me immensly when folks who wouldn’t know a fetlock from a pastern make the ignorant observation that “horses are stupid.” No, they aren’t stupid…they are instinctual. The term “stupid” implies that they have greater mental capacity than they are utilizing. Horses are hitting on all brain cylinders when they back away from what they perceive as dangerous. To us, a pitchfork is no threat; however, to them, it could be a potentially harmful snake or other adversary until it is determined otherwise.
Third, if you are ever presented with the honor of leading a racehorse ANYWHERE there is a very specific and correct way to handle the animal. Take the leadshank, make a loop with the end of the leather strap, and put your left hand through the loop. Then, take your right hand and grab control of the horse on the leather strap near his lip. That way, if the horse balks, and the rein is pulled from your right hand, you can still have control with the left hand. Loose horses are a danger to themselves and everyone in their path. D. Wayne Lukas’ son, Jeff, was horrifically injured as he courageously and nobly tried to stop a runaway. And, just recently at Churchill Downs, a young filly with a very bright future got loose on the track as she was preparing to breeze, attempted to “flee” back to her stall, and impaled herself on the rail beside the gate. Got your attention? Okay….reins in hand, press your right shoulder against the horse briefly and let him know that you are in control. Horses respond to authority and a chain of command. And, if you are not at the top of that chain, you are in a world of trouble. Give the leadshank a slight tug and let the horse know that you won’t tolerate any foolishness. And, finally, if you are uncomfortable, decline the invitation to lead the valuable animal. Better to have never known that to have known and erred in this case.
My dearest friend in the world gave me a Tony Leonard photograph of Secretariat many years ago. My friend graduated from MIT and lives in a neighboring state. When I lived on Ormsby Street in Old Louisville near the University of Louisville campus, he happened by me as I was sitting on my front porch reading The Daily Racing Form. “What’s that?” he asked innocently. My reply, “This ol’ thing? Why, it’s The Form.‘ Many dollars both won and lost later, he has his own teller at the OTB who knows to punch the tickets exactly as called out. My giving an MIT grad something like The Form like giving crack to an addict. Data be him!! He sees things in the dancing numbers that others would never comprehend.
This same friend called me one Friday evening when I was on the way to a New York Yankees game and said I might want to look at the Claiborne horse, Clash, in the ninth race at Churchill Downs. Putting said horse on top and bottom in the exacta would be prudent, in his opinion. I didn’t bother to visit an OTB, but a $14.20 win mutuel later, I think my friend made some coin that day! Then again, trips are usually worth exactly what they cost.
His spot on gift two decades ago of the Tony Leonard photo of Secretariat greets visitors to my wife’s and my New York home. However, there is a slight problem, as Secretariat’s left rein is perceptibly lower than the right. Clearly, the groom has been airbrushed out of the photo. Nobody who handles horses would allow any thoroughbred to walk unattended while reined. And, that fact is exponentially true of a horse like Secretariat. Weird things happen. The horse could get his leg tangled in the dangling reins. Remember how Alydar died? His leg was broken inside his stall…under somewhat mystifying circumstances. I still can’t believe the insurance company paid that claim.
I happen to be employed in the newspaper business. All media outlets are transmogrifying (with a nod toward the “Calvin and Hobbs” cartoon strip) from television stations, newspapers and magazines into information-delivery properties. That is a huge distinction because it used to be that readers/consumers/customers would go to a trusted source for information. Now? Not so much. Trusted brands are losing ground.
The massive internet search engines have dramatically changed the landscape. A user who is curious can access Google or Yahoo! for information. The media person who is way ahead of the game in terms of comprehending this huge change is Rupert Murdoch. His empire includes BskyB in the UK, Star in China, Fox in America and many newspapers, including my favorite…The New York Post. Page Six alone is worth bookmarking in your browser.
A recent Page Six mentioned Pat Riley, who wass also extensively profiled in the sports section that day. Anytime an NBA coach from another city is mentioned multiple times in different sections, that coach is absolutely big pimpin’. Riley is from upstate New York (so there is something of a local angle here) and he played college basketball under Adolph Rupp. He led the Los Angeles “Showtime” Lakers to multiple NBA titles, took the New York Knicks to the seventh game of the finals in search of the Larry O’Brien trophy, and then, won another title with the Miami Heat last week.
Riley’s beaming smile was broadcast one weekend at the pep rally in South Beach after the Heat championship. His dance moves on the podium were amazing. My Latina wife from the Bronx (who could dance credibly to the rhythm from an electric can opener) blurted out “Check him out! That man can MOVE!” when she saw the clip. That, my friends, is noteworthy praise.
My four older sisters taught me growing up in Kentucky always to dance when the chance presents itself and to dance like nobody’s watching. Pat Riley took that one a step further and learned to dance well. He looked like a man with more Lexington, Kentucky in his blood than Schenectady, New York.
I’d be willing to bet that Pat Riley also knows how to properly lead a racehorse. It is apparent to those of us who take pride in our state and our heritage that Pat Riley was “raised right.” Hats off to a true Bluegrass Ambassador.
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The “Maddest” Bet of All
New York–England and America are two countries divided by a common language.
The English use the word “mad” when they mean “crazy,” while we Yanks think of “angry” when we hear “mad.” The famous expression “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun” points out the distinction.
To this bettor, the Kentucky Derby Future Book wager amounts to a “mad” bet. Don’t misconstrue, it is a fun bet that helps hype the race (as if the race needs one iota of additional publicity) and engages casual bettors in the months and weeks prior to the Derby.
In fact, there is a 16-year-old teenager sitting in London right now with a $2 Future Book bet on Colonel John because I wanted to involve her and her father in the Kentucky Derby this year. The act of handing someone a $2 Win bet in snowy February on a “live” longshot (19-1) in the Derby is one of the most elemental and cheapest ways to pique a new fan’s interest. I suspect that a certain British family will gather around the telly at 11:06 p.m. London time on May 3rd to cheer on Colonel John (if he makes the starting gate). At the very least, they will remember Derby 134 for many years to come.
I’ll make sure that the Brits know how to muddle the mint properly for a julep.
However, as a betting strategy the Derby Future Book is mad, daft and loco. I’m not sure about other native Louisvillians, but my record is 1-for47 lifetime picking Derby winners (Barbaro 2006) so for anybody to offer me 9-2 on War Pass or 4-1 on Pyro on Sunday, March 9th seems like awfully poor odds. I should get 25-1 to pick any horse that will actually make the race, get a clean trip and wear the Roses. One could expect to get 3-1 or higher on Pyro and War Pass come Derby Day, so why accept only slightly better odds two months prior to the race? Show me a bettor who hits the “All Other 3-Year-Olds” button in the Future Book and I’ll show you a person who holds a disproportionate number of Muni bonds in their portfolio.
Bragging rights, that’s why you bet the Future Book!
It’s not so much about the money, it’s about crowing to your railbird buddies that you picked the Derby winner months before they drew the post positions. Sorry, months before they had pulled the pills to determine the selection order for the post positions in the “greatest two minutes in sports.” Note to the Triple Crown–please restore the random post position draw.
Bet bold! Remember, when you win, all you get is money. When you lose, you have a story for the rest of your life. “All Other 3-Year-Olds” doesn’t really lend itself to a gambling tale.
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Pio Pio and All Things Peruvian
Jamaica, NY–If you drive east on Queens Blvd towards Manhattan and take a left on Woodhaven Blvd. near the Queens Center Mall, you’re on your way to Aqueduct Racetrack. Just after the turn onto Woodhaven there is a vest pocket Peruvian restaurant called Pio Pio that sells amazing roasted chicken. Lots of roasted chicken.
On Sunday afternooon, so many people order chicken to take out that the crowds ouside the restaurant number in the dozens and block the sidewalk. There are perhaps six tables in the entire cramped restaurant where people order whole chickens and take two or three more birds with them to go when they leave after their meals.
Expect the lines to be even longer late this afternoon. Tomcito will try to stamp his ticket to the Kentucky Derby when he races today in the Florida Derby. A $7,500 Kentucky-bred son of Street Cry, Tomcito won as a two-year-old racing a mile-and-one-quarter…against older competition. Few two-year-olds could win against their peers at that distance. There are weird slimilarities to another South American horse, Cannonero II. The latter also raced at long distances prior to attempting ten furlongs on the first Saturday in May.
All ethnic cultures that help comprise the polyglot that is the social fabric of New York look for rallying cries to help distinguish themselves from the rest of the population. Peruvians, and the non-Hispanic patrons of Pio Pio, will no doubt have a special interest in what happens in Florida this afternoon. Should Tomcito qualify for the Kentucky Derby, expect lots of Pio Pio chicken to be consumed in New York on May 3rd. Perhaps the Peruvians will wash down the chicken with mint juleps this year.
If Tomcito’s trainer, Dante Zanelli, Jr., can take a $7,500 purchase and plot a path to Louisville with hopes of running in the Derby, then who is to say that some lucky members of the MTG partnership won’t have a horse with similar aspirations in 2009? The odds of that happening are remote, although they are no less remote than a dreamer in Peru entertaining thoughts of a May garland of roses at Churchill.
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