Kentucky Derbies to Remember

I started watching the Kentucky Derby back in 1986, because I read in the newspaper that a horse called "Ferdinand" would be running, and my Grandmother lived on "Ferdinand" road or drive- I honestly can't recall now. I just remember thinking "hey, that's Gramma's street- I bet that horse will win," and wanting to see if he did.

I knew nothing, then, about trainers or jockeys (though I had heard of Ferdinand's jock, Will Shoemaker- who hadn't heard of the Shoe back then?), and it was entirely a 'hunch' bet, the kind of thing a horseplayer hates. I was a child, though, not a bettor. I was not-yet-12, and just wanted to see the pretty horses and root for the one named after the street my Gram lived on. And so I did, and was enchanted by the excitement of the race, the pagentry of the day, the beauty of the horses, and the two men involved- a jock named "Shoe" and a trainer they called the "Bald Eagle."

I started following horse racing as best I could, copying articles from Sports Illustrated magazines in the library, and keeping track of the Derby contenders for 1987. That year, I wasn't rooting for the winner- but Alysheba's brave recovery after his stumble converted me, and his win in the Preakness catapulted me into the thing I call "Triple Crown lust."

It was not to be- Bet Twice swept past him in spectacular fashion and broke my heart, shattering my Triple Crown dreams.

In 1988, my heart rose again, as a filly dared compete against the boys, and I rooted for Winning Colors simply because she was a "girl" challenging the status quo. When she won, I cheered.

But it was still all a mental exercise. I was rooting, but I didn't realize how superficial my rooting interest was- until that next year.

I heard a rumor late in 1988 that my "Bald Eagle" was back with a colt he thought could win the Derby. I was immediately intrigued, because I liked the crusty old fellow a lot back in '86. So, I went searching. I found an article about Charlie Whittingham in the back of a Sports Illustrated, talking about his colt Sunday Silence, who had just won a Derby prep in Florida.

And suddenly, horse racing wasn't a mental exercise.

I don't know why I fell in love with that black colt- he had a reputation as a mean horse, one who didn't like people. I hadn't even seen him run yet. But just from that one picture, the black colt with the crooked blaze on his face stole my heart, and that Kentucky Derby in 1989, I didn't care what people said about Easy Goer and how he was going to be the next Secretariat.

I only had eyes for Sunday Silence.

When he won, I cried tears of joy, whooping and dancing around my living room. My Mom was convinced I'd gone insane, even while she shared my joy. The Preakness- which is a race for the ages- cemented my adoration for the brave, game black colt. I couldn't love Sunday Silence more if he was my own. On Belmont Day, I was convinced that Sunday Silence was THE horse, he was going to win the Triple Crown. I had no doubts.

So at the top of the stretch, when Easy Goer swept past him, I sank to the floor, too stunned and heartbroken even to cry.

I spent a few days depressed, but I, like all teenagers, managed to rebound- and was vindicated when Sunday Silence won the Breeder's Cup and the Horse of the Year honors. But too soon, he was retired- and then, to my shock and horror, he was sold to Japan!

I was crushed, since I had hoped to see his colts and fillies running HERE, and winning Derbies.

I turned my attention back to the Derby preps, searching in vain for another horse to capture my heart and imagination again the way Sunday Silence had. And I found nothing, that next year, and it became a mental exercise again, rooting for horses based on their stories, based on trainers, or jockeys, or just watching the Derby to see who won. I wondered if I'd ever fall in love with a horse again.

It took 10 years- but a gorgeous chestnut colt with Secretariat's bloodline finally captured my heart. Charismatic lived up to his name, let me tell you. Flashy and sweet, this time, I heard stories about him taking peppermints from his groom, and thought how different the two animals that caught my heart were. I wondered if he'd win- because he caught my heart running in the Lexington Stakes, and all I had was a hope and a prayer.

Win he did, and with STYLE. I cheered, and prayed for him to triumph in the Preakness, which he did. His jockey and trainer were confident as we headed for the Belmont- his breeding and his running style were suited for Belmont's distance and wide turns. I danced, and knew this time- this time we'd go all the way!

But he, too, failed to win the Triple Crown, breaking down in the Belmont and creating a heartwrenching scene for those of us who love horse racing. I wept, and swore I'd never watch horse racing again.

I lasted a week.

I was fortunate in that I was able to root for his colt Sun King, but no more Charismatic babies will grace the tracks here in the US- he, too, was sent to Japan, to my chagrin. I feel like I curse the horses I love with a Japanese retirement.

But I cannot help wanting to love them anyway- and so, this year, I searched the prep races.

And found no horse to capture my heart. So, with such a competitive field I couldn't pick one horse to root for- I had three. One I picked because I adored his trainer, and I had rooted for the first horse he'd won the Derby with. One I picked for no reason other than he had a pretty head and was a fighter. And one I picked because he was a chestnut wonder, and could be a freak.

And lo, one of the horses I was rooting for won!

Do I love him? No- sadly, he is not my Sunday Silence (who is running races in the big racetrack in the sky now) nor my Charismatic. But he's a gorgeous horse, with a worthy trainer, and I have Triple Crown lust yet again. So I will root for him in the Preakness, and pray.