The Day After

There's been enough speculation. But of course I have to add my two cents:

Michael isn't a Desormeaux fan and hates that he fought Big Brown after the break. I watched the replay carefully and have to agree. There was room for the horse to get up along the rail and he wasn't boxed in until Desormeaux fought him, trying to take him back and to the outside from the get go. When he was asked pre-race by Jeannine Edwards if going to the front was a possible strategy, Desormeaux replied with an emphatic "no! not at a mile and a half". Well, it worked for one horse. All hindsight now, however, and there are 101 reasons (excuses) that my horse got beat - as they say. It's good to know I'll probably see him at the Travers.

I guess this kills the deal with Suffolk Downs. Sufferin' Downs to me. Home. Where it all began. I may have even made the journey back to witness that Mass Cap. One thought leads to ancient musings which prompted me to dig out some of my old track badges that I've managed to save. Some of you reading this weren't even born yet when moi was pioneering and struggling to make way for the infinite possibilities you modern females enjoy at the track today. You're welcome. Please enjoy this stroll down the ol' timer's lane:

My name was Wilson back then (brief husband no. 1). The year is 1973 at Narragansett Park (now an industrial park) and I worked for the notorious B.K. Sipp. Listen up kids - Dutrow is a cream puff compared to that bad actor.

Here's my partner in crime before we even met. The year is 1974 and he was one of the youngest to get a trainer's license. This was at the old Lincoln Downs, now a greyhound track (I think). It was here that I got my very first race track license at age fifteen.

Precious at the old, wonderful Rockingham Park, now a shopping mall. Many, many fond memories of that party meet when we shipped over from Suffolk on the 4th of July to enjoy two short months at the lakes.

Notice the scarf and frozen expression. That's because Suffolk ran the winter meet - akin to being detained to a work camp in Siberia. It's 1979 and I'm still very young yet getting wise...

My last year at Suffolk, 1983. Now married to husband no. 2. Ready and willing for bigger and better adventures...

"Hindsight is wonderful. It's always very easy to second guess after the fact". -
Helen Reddy

Underdogs

Geesh, with all the venom directed at Rick Dutrow this year, you'd think that there was never a jerkoff, druggie trainer to make good before now.

I say, lighten up people. Try working day in and day out alongside these types. Excruciating. So, why do the universal powers smile down on these guys? Well, here's my take:

Big Brown is the product of modest so-so breeding. Sold at Keeneland's 2007 Two-Year-Old in Training Sale for a paltry $190, 000. Small change in this biz of lofty international ambitions. Imagine this two-year-old in the barn of Pletcher, Asmussen or Frankel. Maybe even in the barn of my personal hero, Zito. With a barnful of royal, multi-million dollar babies, this horse would be relegated to a stall in the middle of the backside of the barn. His groom would be the new guy, and his exercise rider would be the kid with not so much talent, but hey, he or she shows up sober every day. He'd probably be one of the last to train late in the morning, long after said trainer has headed over to the racing office.

Do you get where I'm going with this? Instead, Big Brown ends up in the barn of a minor trainer who struggles to overcome adversity, disrespect and his own inner demons. The horse is welcomed here and his price isn't considered so modest and he is actually appreciated. He gets the attention he wouldn't get if he were in the barn of one of the big guns.

"You know, America loves the underdog and I'm no longer the underdog, so if people are going to start taking shots at me, I'm ready for that". - Kid Rock

Godzilla

"It was just a very lovely ride". Kent Desormeaux to Donna Brothers after pulling up.

I've heard and read all the reasons to hate Rick Dutrow and despise Big Brown. Those of you who ruminate on Dutrow's drug use, gambling and otherwise typical seedy race track life should be aware that he is indeed not far from the mainstream and certainly not out of the ordinary. The CEO Todd Pletcher types, while justly admirable, are few and far between. Dutrow represents the motherlode cast of characters on the backside. If you're offended by the Dutrow's of the industry, then you require your horse racing to be pristine and sanitized. You're missing out on some of, yes, albeit rough but sincerest of fascinating people.

The explosive acceleration of Big Brown when asked was nothing short of phenomenal. Horse racing needs a hero.

Dutrow sends his big horse to Frankel's barn. "It’s always good to have someone like that to talk to and try to get direction when I’m not sure what I’m doing". Hmmm. Very interesting. Now's not the time to get faint-hearted, Rick. I say don't change a thing. Bobby will tell you the same. Whatever it is or isn't - it's working. This horse is creating champions regardless of the entourage.

Steroid tests on all the runners in the Derby and Oaks came back negative.

“It were not best that we should all think alike; it is difference of opinion that makes horse races” - Mark Twain