Before I moved to Louisville, I would have agreed with you. I found it hard to believe all the fuss made over one horse race. As I am now already planning what to wear for my 18th Derby, let me tell you a bit about what I have learned over the years to explain why anyone would put up with the crowds, inflated hotel prices, ridiculously priced seats, and other aggrevations for what we HOPE will be a race that lasts for LESS than two minutes.
When I was younger, I did what your son probably does. I joined the craziness in the infield. For $25 we would haul blankets, chairs, and coolers a very long way to set up a spot where we wouldn’t even be able to see a horse all day. It was usually the first day we got to spend the day in the sun, since the last fall, and happily peal of layer after layer of clothes. We had spent time figuring out how to smuggle booze in, and as expected had about half what we tried to bring in confiscated. It is not about the horses at all. It is about a bunch of people with spring fever, getting drunk and silly in a safe enviornment. Everyone we meet is there to have a good time. We see old friends, make new friends. Many are passed out by the time the actual race goes off. We go home sunburned and happy, and know we will come back again.
Now that I am older, the experience is a bit different. I follow horse racing now, and I know what this race means to our sport. The Kentucky Derby is the nation’s oldest, continuously held sporting event. There is so much history and tradition involved, it is hard not to get caught up in it. We know that these 20 horses that have made it here, have been pointed their entire lives for this one race.
Even before they were conceived the thoughts of Derby were there. What mare matched with what stallion will produce a horse who will peak in early May of his three year old year? Who can go to an auction and look at the yearlings, who have never even been on a track yet, and see a Derby starter? Who can look in the lowly claiming races, and find a two year old whose owners/trainers didn’t realize what they had, and snatch them up for a very small price? To get to the Derby, these horses and their owners, trainers and jockeys have hoped and prayed for safe trips, and lots of racing luck just to get there. Sleepless nights of worrying that what appears to be a small set-back does not turn-out to be a carreer ending injury. These horses are pampered and no expense spared to give them every chance to make it to the top, the Kentucky Derby. They only get one chance.
Lives will be forever changed each year as we have a new Derby winner. As long as he is not a gelding, the winner is pretty much guaranteed to make a fortune in the breeding shed. The sire and broodmare sire of the winner will see their stud fees increase. The winning trainer will have a long list of people wanting to use him. The winning jockey joins a great list of the other winning jockeys, and insures his place in history. And the winning owners enjoy such a wild adventure, they know they will do whatever it takes to repeat the experience.
As horse racing fans, we have been following this group of Derby entrants for about a year already. We have watched the early two year old races looking for the next stars of racing. We have debated trainers’ choices of when and where to run their potential stars. We have had some of our early favorites leave the Derby trail, either due to injury or not being able to continue to hold their early winning form. We have debated sires’ abilities to produce a horse that can run a mile and a quarter. We look for signs a particular horse won’t be able to cope with the inevitable chaos that comes with putting 150,000 cheering people at Churchill Downs. As the races get progressively longer for the young horses, we see many who show themselves to be great sprinters, but not Derby horses, and cross them off our lists. On the first Saturday in May, of the 35,000 foals that were born three years earlier, only 20 are left to have a chance making Derby history.
On the actual day, the ladies arrive at the track looking beautiful in their Derby hats, which are usually chosen first, then an outfit to match. The ladies notice the admiring looks from the men. They feel beautiful, and enjoy the affect they have on the men for one day a year. The men respond to the ladies as southern gentlemen would. Compliments are given, doors are held open, every courtesy extended. Mint Juleps are bought for strangers for no other reason than, “This is just my way to thank you for looking so lovely in that hat,” said by men who on no other day of the year would ever even dream of saying anything so corny. But it is Derby day, and everyone caught up in the fun and excitement. For the women, we get one day to play dress up like we did when we were young, and enjoy it even more. For the men, they get to admire the ladies, and be chivalrous for a day, in a world that usually doesn’t accept that anymore.
Conversations are easy. “Who do you like?” Even those that don’t follow racing have a favorite. Chosen by name, by familiar jockey or trainer, by the story of an unlikely underdog that tugs at the heartstrings. Everyone is excited and happy and friendly. Many friends are made, romances begin, everone is affected in someway.
Excitement builds throughout the day. We throw money at horses for fun in the early races and every now then get lucky and have another reason to celebrate. The day has flown by, and before we know it, we are standing as they play My Old Kentucky Home. Some of us tear up, but we all have goosebumps. The jockeys parade by, and you can see tears in many of their eyes as well. We glance up at the famous Twin Spires and say silent prayers, wanting most of all a safe trip for all the jockeys and horses.
They are loaded in the gate. You wonder what the connections are thinking. This is last moment that all but one of them will have to enjoy the dream of being this year’s Derby winner. You are so excited yourself you can barely breath, you can’t imagine what it is like for those whose futures will forever be changed in just two minutes.
The bell rings, the gate opens. Twenty horses pop out at once. The colorful silks, the thundering of hooves. We get our first glimpse of the race. We try to remember what color silks our choice has and look for him. But the horses are tightly bunched, we can’t see where our choice is. But it really doesn’t matter what position they are yet. We now this is a long race. We just enjoy the magnificent spectacle of so many horses speeding by. After they thundered by us, we realize we had stopped breathing while they were near. They are rounding the first turn and we can’t really see them so well. We take a minute to breath. It seems like it is forever that they are on the backstretch. What is taking them so long? We glance at the big screens with close-ups of the leaders, we try to hear the announcer’s call. It is all a blur. You really aren’t aware of anything except the butterflies your stomach. Then the crowd roar grows even louder. Those at the far end of the stands can see the horses rounding the second turn. The horses by now are no longer all clumped together, some are out front and leading into the final stretch. As they straighten out, dramatic moves are made. Some with plenty left are passing the early leaders. The wire draws near, sometimes one pulls away and wins easily. Sometimes there are still many left battling down the stretch every step to the very end. Sometimes the early leader hangs on the entire way, crossing the wire first.
And then it is over. You realize again you had stopped breathing, and take another breath. If your choice happens to win, you cheer wildly. If your choice doesn’t win, you still cheer. You just witnessed in person what is called, “the most exciting two minutes in sports.” You have to agree. You really don’t understand why your heart is also racing, but everyone is buzzing, you just go with it. You see the winner bringing his horse back to the winner’s circle. You cheer him as he goes by. Even if he wasn’t your choice, you are so happy for him. And now he is your choice for the Preakness Stakes. He is this year’s only chance for a Tripple Crown winner. You think of the people who are able to say they saw Secretariat win a Triple Crown race. You hope this new Kentucky Derby winner is the next Secretariat, and you can say you were there to see him win the Derby.
The Derby experience isn’t for everyone. I know many people who wouldn’t attend if someone paid them. Some buy expensive tickets only to find the seats are bad. Some can’t take standing in line to bet or use the rest room. Some years the weather doesn’t cooperate, and we are huddled together under cover to avoid driving rain.
But even with its drawbacks, for many it is a once a year magical experience. There isn’t much recorded history that doesn’t include man and his relationship with the horse. The Kentucky Derby is a chance to celebrate man’s love affair with the horses. We also honor a 133 year American tradition that is modeled after the culmination of several centuries of English tradition. For two minutes you are part of an event being watched by people all over the world. For some, potential fortunes are won or lost, lifelong career achievements attained or denied. For the rest of us it is a day to focus on horses and traditions, and a chance to let yourself get caught up in a world your are not normally part of. And for our out of town visitors, they get to enjoy what we consider our unofficial state motto, “Fast horses, beautiful women, and smooth bourbon.”
I absolutely cherish my many Derby memories. Every year it is the same, and every year it is different. I have some friends from California coming out this year. They may think they are coming out to see a two minute horse race, but they will leave knowing that the Derby experience involves so much more than just a two minute race.
Is is May yet? Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming this year Zeldar?