Yellowstone Downs: Kind of a big deal

Yellowstone Downs drew a nice crowd for a small-time track. Ziggy Zack and jockey Bill Christian await their photo after winning a Thoroughbred race.

There is an old saying about what happens when a person makes assumptions.

I won’t bother you with the details, but it ends awkwardly for everyone involved.

That lesson was driven home following a visit to Yellowstone Downs in Billings, Montana.

I was afforded the opportunity to visit the mixed breed racetrack as part of a family vacation to Wyoming. Billings is not far from the Wyoming/Montana border, so it was a quick swing off the beaten path.

Looking over the track’s website and entries on Equibase, I got the impression the track was similar in size and scope to Mount Pleasant Meadows; small to moderate-sized fields and purses, a lightly populated jockey colony and a state hardly known as a racing hotbed. I was expecting a couple hundred people at the most there to watch their friends and loved ones compete on the horses running under their colors.

Sa-wing and a miss.

While everything from paddock to post was what I thought it would be, the human element was comparable to a track of much larger prestige. The Billings Gazette reports the attendance for Yellowstone’s closing day, which I attended, at 5,110 fans and a total handle of $109,086. That’s not an error. I checked it out. $109,086. I didn’t realize racing was that big in Montana.

Yellowstone Downs is located at the MetraPark, an expo center that hosts, among other things, the MontanaFair (all one word, not to be confused with the Montana State Fair, which hosts racing of its own). Like many fair tracks, the facilities are multi-purpose. The track and grandstand are separated by a concrete wall with a catch fence sticking out that suggests the track might moonlight as an auto racing venue.

Admission for the day was five dollars, which considering the quality of the facilities and level of racing is incredibly steep. Programs were another three dollars – still well above the Mendoza Line, but they were of very good quality, so I was willing to let it slide.

The track appeared to be of the half-mile variety with a short quarter horse chute. Because of the short chute, Thoroughbred sprint races were carded at 5 1/4 furlongs, which is a new one for me. Adding to the track’s unorthodox setup was the separate finish lines for Thoroughbred and Quarter Horse races. The blue-lined pole for Thoroughbreds sat in front of the toteboard (which is more functional than either of Michigan’s flat tracks) while the red Quarter Horse pole sat further down the stretch.

The saddling paddock was nestled under the grandstand toward the top of the stretch. Each numbered stall bore the name and silks of a legendary racehorse – John Henry, Secretariat, Ruffian and Man O’ War to name a few. The crowds regularly ran at least three deep all the way around the paddock, even with people balancing on the sections of three-tier bleachers spread around the perimeter.

After exploring the grandstands for a while, the announcer came over the PA system and went over the day’s program changes. Never before had I heard of a jockey listed as a double-digit overweight, but Yellowstone Downs was ripe with them. If my math is correct, there was more than one jockey weighing in near or over 130 pounds, and several of them were well above the preferred height for a jockey. Small track racing is awesome.

Outside of my forays into harness racing, my visit to Yellowstone was the first time in my handicapping career where I arrived at a venue completely outside of my wheelhouse of knowledge. In past track visits, there was a reasonable chance I would spot some familiar tracks or bloodlines in the program in which to base relative class. Even when simulcasting California tracks, I had a reasonable idea what to look for in terms of comparative tracks and class levels. At Yellowstone, I constantly found myself flipping to the front of the program to decipher the abbreviations of small northwest fair tracks and making assumptions on which ones might be of higher class. Of course, the abbreviations key apparently hadn’t been updated since Detroit Race Course shut its doors (we’re talking about 12 years, here), so some of the more obscure letter combinations were left unreferenced.

Yellowstone’s Thoroughbred platoon hailed largely from the Montana fair circuit, but several had experience at Arapahoe Park in Colorado, and a surprising number of horses shipped in from Canterbury Park in Minnesota or the Nebraska circuit. The Quarter Horses that were not Montana regulars had starts as far east as Minnesota, as far south as Delta Downs in Louisiana and as far west as New Mexico’s Ruidoso Downs.

My timing for arriving at the track was impeccable. Yellowstone Downs’ closing card featured Montana’s richest race – The $34,700 Yellowstone Downs Quarter Horse Futurity. Also on the card was the YD Quarter Horse Derby, the consolation races for those two stakes and the final round of the Montana Distance series.

The card opened with the consolation race for the Yellowstone Downs Paint and Appaloosa Futurity; the final having been run the previous day. I hit the exacta for a small payout, which is a fine way to make a first impression.

Looking at the post parade revealed some more idiosyncrasies about Yellowstone Downs. First, the maximum field size for each race was limited to eight horses, regardless of the breed. As can be seen in the photos, there were additional stalls in the starting gate, but only eight were used. The program also listed several early scratches at the bottom of the page suggesting horses that did not draw in.

Second, the riders wore track colors with few exceptions. The silks for each corresponding saddlecloth were jazzed up a bit with various designs, but they were uniform for the number they were assigned. Along those lines, the saddlecloth colors did not correspond with the typical Thoroughbred color scheme. One through four were the same, but five was black, six was orange, seven was purple and eight was green.

Wandering through the grandstand, it was clear that the Chip Woolley look was in. There was easily at least seven guys on the property with black cowboy hats and narrow cowboy mustaches. Heck, the Kentucky Derby-winning trainer could have been there and I couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup unless he showed up on crutches.

Between races, I decided to try a cheeseburger. I feel it necessary to try the burgers at as many tracks as possible to see how they compare to the world champion of racetrack burgers, hailing from Ellis Park. The patty was thick and flavorful, if a bit greasy. While among the better track concession burgers I have had, the Ellis burger remains on top.

My luck at the windows headed south after that first race, and I only cashed one ticket the rest of the afternoon. My toughest beat came in the feature, the Yellowstone Downs QH Futurity, when both of my horses were taken out by a rank runner who proceeded to pitch her rider and send him tumbling town the stretch. He would get up shaken, but under his own power.

Someone on the grounds was making money, though. The superfecta, which is apparently a really big deal in Montana because the announcer hyped it up like it was the Powerball, paid $10,237 in the nightcap. This is made even more impressive when one considers the fact that this was done in an eight horse field. The smaller field means fewer combinations and a higher likelihood of multiple winning tickets, diminishing the payout.

As the day wore on, the crowd continued to swell. The lines to the ticket windows got a little longer, but there was still an adequate number of mutuel tellers to keep things moving. I could not believe the amount of people who had come to see the races.

After the races finished, the crowd was asked to stick around to watch the Indian Relay about to commence. Billings is just on the outskirts of the Crow Indian Reservation, so the tribe had a big presence at the track, both as spectators and handicappers (a tribe and the racetracks coexisting peacefully…Go figure). We were told by someone in the grandstands after the fact that the relay is a tradition amongst the tribe and a celebration of horsemanship.

As the announcer went over the ground rules, a pack of jittery-looking horses was led out by people in colored shirts to symbolize each team. I don’t know if it was ever said whether the horses belonged to the participants or were on loan from the backstretch.

The rules of the race were as follows: One member of the team rode a horse bareback around the track, then jumped off and jumped back on another horse held by a teammate. The first team to complete four circuits was the winner.

There did not appear to be much organization in this race. There was no apparent starting signal, aside from a few of the riders deciding to go. Meanwhile, the remaining team members struggled to keep their horses under control.

The race was indeed an impressive display of horsemanship, until one of the horses got loose during an exchange and plowed into the back of another waiting horse and its handler. The standing horse went down immediately and fell over its handler as the running horse tried to go over both the hard way. As the race continued, trained personnel tended to the fallen human and horse. The horse did not make any attempt to get up and had to be put down. It happened so close to the grandstand that putting up the blue tarp did little to shield the audience from what was going on.

They were both still down when the race concluded and the winner’s circle photo was taken. We left before we learned the fate of the handler, but he was at least breathing, and the next day’s paper (of which Yellowstone’s closing day made the front page of the sports section) made no mention of any horse-related fatalities, so one would assume he pulled through. In retrospect, one catastrophic breakdown and one human injury was probably a relatively positive outcome. With so many jumpy horses in such an chaotic setting, it was not hard to imagine worse things happening.

The grim outcome of the Indian Relay put a bit of a dark cloud over what was otherwise an enjoyable day at Yellowstone Downs. It would be hard to justify a trip from Michigan just to make a return visit, but it is a worthy destination if one’s late summer travels should take him or her near Billings. Just don’t let the entries fool you into thinking the track is small potatoes, because we all know what happens when one assumes…

Behind the jump are photos from my visit to Yellowstone Downs.

2010 Indiana Derby card live blog

3:09 p.m. After some issues with the wireless connection, I am coming to you live from the makeshift Hoosier Park press box. I’ll be keeping you posted with check-ins, updates and photos for the rest of the Indiana Derby card, or until I get too busy to write stuff.

We are coming up on the eighth race, so here is a quick update of what has been going on so far…

- The rain has been heavy and steady through the afternoon. The apron is sparsely populated, but the grandstand is packed. That many people in a fairly tight space can generate a pretty good sound as the field comes down the stretch.

- Michigan trainer Bob Gorham has been on a tear today, with two stakes wins on the card already. He saddled Perfectly Candid to victory in the $84,000 Miss Indiana Stakes with Leandro Goncalves aboard. He then followed up by giving Fernando De La Cruz the leg up aboard Bellamy Jones in the Indiana Futurity. Gorham. Both are owned by Mast Thoroughbreds, LLC. The pair will send Shakaleena to the post in the Indiana Oaks (G2) later in the evening.

- The track classed up the restaurant area for the big day, and there is a silent auction near the entrance. The thing about racing industry silent auctions is they are normally conducted among the wealthy owners, so I get blown out of contention early. Still, some pretty nice stuff there.

- Wandering around the grandstand are, in no particular order: Hoosier Buddy, the Hoosier Park mascot, a jockey on stilts and a handstanding Charlie Chaplin impersonator. The latter is easily the most awesome. Because I am here for you, I will try to get photos of all three of these figures doing something awesome. So far, I am one for three…

The aforementioned jockey on stilts, in all his glory.

Look for more check-ins as things get crazier. Until then, here are a couple more photos…Click to enlarge.

The Hoosier Park press box/dining table/press table. Among those pictured are Ed DeRosa, Molly Jo Rosen, Bruno DeJulio and superstar freelancer Claire Novak.

Oh yeah, and there is some racing, too. A muddied Benson returns to unsaddle under jockey Derek Bell.

4:35 p.m. After nine races, I’m finally on the board. I hit the exacta in the Hoosier Breeders Sophomore Stakes for a respectable payout, largely thanks to a big stretch drive by Northern Candyride and rider Leandro Goncalves.

Goncalves and Northern Candyride helping me cash a ticket.

The sun has come out just in time for the big boy/girl races and the rain has slowed for the time being. Hopefully it lasts for the main event. The apron is becoming more and more populated as time goes on. I’ll be curious to see how full it gets.

Two down, one to go. I’m coming for you, Charlie Chaplin…

Hoosier Buddy, the Hoosier Park mascot, photographed by an onlooker.

5:03 p.m. This is way more fun than I imagine my five-year high school reunion would have been. Just saying.

I just realized the tickets for Indiana Derby day feature a smiley face. Sometimes it’s the little things that count.

I was going to post a picture of Shakaleena in the paddock for the Indiana Oaks for regular commentator Ragman, but I just looked up at the simulcast feed and she has been scratched. Boo-urns.

The Indiana Oaks is up next. Until then, here are a couple more photos to tide you over.

Francisco Torres heads back to the jock's room after unsaddling from Nomorewineforeddie.

Orlando Mojica describes his ride after guiding Differentkindagreat.

6:47 p.m. Bob Baffert didn’t ship to the middle of Indiana to come home with anything less than two graded stakes wins. Fortunately, his charges held up their end of the bargain.

The California-based trainer took the first half of the Derby/Oaks double courtesy of a front-running trip by Always a Princess and jockey Martin Garcia.

The start of the Indiana Oaks.

The thrilling conclusion of the Indiana Oaks, with Always a Princess comfortably in the lead.

I wanted to poke in between the big races to throw the Oaks photos up, but the crowd became so dense around the paddock for the upcoming Indiana Derby I knew I had to get down there or risk missing the whole thing.

The crowd was was easily five deep when I arrived, all to see Eclipse Award winner Lookin At Lucky. One particular fan holding a sign declaring herself “Lucky’s No. 1 Fan” drew the attention of owner Michael Pegram, who promised the girl a spot in the winner’s circle should his horse pull it off. That was cool. Racing needs more of that.

It took some elbowing, but I managed to get to the gate and into the paddock (with an assist to Claire Novak and Pegram). I then worked my way over to the grass island that became the refuge for turf writers and photographers…and pretend turf writers alike.

While Lookin At Lucky was the star of the show, St. Maximus Gato acted like he owned the crowd. The gray gelding from Calder Race Course posed for any lens that looked in his direction. This was his first big effort, but he looked more than ready.

St. Maximus Gato looking awesome in the paddock.

I am still on the lookout for the Charlie Chaplin impersonator. I have crossed paths with him on several occasions, but every time I get my camera in place, he stops doing whatever cool thing he was doing. A picture of Charlie Chaplin just standing around is no good to any of us.

It’s time to go piss away my earnings in the casino. I’ll wrap it all up later tonight.

10:28 p.m. Okay, where were we?

The field made its way through the post parade, with Lookin at Lucky as the overwhelming favorite. I watched on from the winner’s circle with the press box contingent pictured somewhere above. Turf writers have the most interesting conversations. If you follow enough of them on Twitter, you likely know this first hand, because they love to quote one another when someone says something interesting or witty.

The race was mostly spent watching Lookin At Lucky get mud thrown in his face and wondering if and when he was going to make a move. Because I am a Michigan guy all the way, my inner Matt Hook was shouting “Lookin At Lucky needs to move and he needs to move now.” Lookin at Lucky was too wide, too far back and too covered with mud to make any noise at the top of the stretch, but he responded to jockey Martin Garcia’s urging and willed his way past Thiskyhasnolimit.

Meanwhile, St. Maximus Gato appeared primed to move up the rail and also overtake the leader. With a 6-9 exacta box ticket sitting in my pocket, this was a sight I was overjoyed to see. However, the part of the exacta that did not have an Eclipse Award on the mantle back home came up empty and finished third. Lookin at Lucky crossed the wire to win by a length.

Lookin At Lucky powers by Thiskyhasnolimit to win the Indiana Derby.

As soon as the race concluded, the crowd packed the area around the winner’s circle even deeper than they had in the paddock. Camera shutters clicked for the also-rans, but became more frequent when the winner approached.

Lookin At Lucky gets a quick wipe-down before getting his picture taken. Martin Garcia stayed muddy.

Pictures were taken, trophies were handed out, hugs were administered, then the media swarmed. First the TV networks got the winning connections, followed by the print media. As Baffert finished up with the TV crews, the reporters interviewed a still-muddy jockey Martin Garcia.

Garcia answers questions from the media following the Indiana Derby.

After Garcia was released from the media’s clutches, the swarm turned its attention on trainer Bob Baffert. Baffert, never at a loss for words smoothly fielded the questions. When asked if his charge had the chops to compete against super-mare Zenyatta in a potential Breeders’ Cup matchup, Baffert simply replied “Let’s find out.” Afterward, Baffert signed autographs and had pictures taken well after the last reporter left. I got tired of watching him sign programs before he got tired of signing them. It’s good to see a major horseman interact with the fans that came out to see him and his horse instead of treating the day like the smash-and-grab it ultimately was.

Baffert answers questions from the media following the Indiana Derby. I am too short to pull this shot off effectively.

This is where I picked up in my previous update. Baffert got his two trophies and the fans went home happy – even moreso after Zenyatta’s routine miracle victory. That horse is magic.

I never again ran into the Charlie Chaplin impersonator after stating my goal in the last update. Take my word for it. He was awesome.

Following the races, my group splintered off and grabbed a bite to eat, then splintered off again. My now smaller group headed back to Hoosier’s casino. In my first spin of the slots, I hit for $15. This put me in a small moral dilemma. Do I quit after one spin like a badass, but sacrifice the rest of the night, or do I risk blowing it all just to keep my somewhat rare casino visit going for a while longer?

I didn’t feel like going back to my hotel just yet so I chose the latter. In the short term, it was a bad decision. I ended up losing most of it in a combination of unforgiving slots and a cruel roulette wheel. After finishing ahead of the game at Prairie Meadows, I really wanted to play blackjack, but the the tables never opened up. Just as I was thinking about calling it a night with less than I came, a Breeders’ Cup slot machine opened up. Within a few spins, I was back to $16 above my starting point. I love horse racing. With my bankroll back to where it was after my first spin, it was finally time to quit while I was ahead like a badass.

So what can we take away from all of this?

Saturday’s Indiana Derby was a prime example of what can happen when things go right for the industry. The crowd came out, despite the rather miserable weather, to see arguably the best three-year-old in the country who came to town to cash in on a purse infused with casino steroids. Money barreled through the betting windows, and later the casino. The champ came back a winner and everybody went home happy. The weather could have been nicer, but all things considered, the day had to be considered a success.

When I look at what Hoosier Park has done with the Indiana Derby, and the state’s program in general, I believe Michigan is capable of becoming something close to the same thing, assuming it is allowed the tools to do so. There was a time when Michigan and Indiana were on similar ground in terms of their racing industries. Then Indiana went in one direction and Michigan went another, far less pleasant way.

Granted, the competition, both economically and politically, of tribal and Detroit casinos may dilute the effectiveness of expanded gaming in Michigan, but even if it helped purses jump from mediocre to above average the state is better off than it was before. The Indiana Derby shows that the formula can work, and it gets more apparent with every horseman that leaves the state to see for themselves. Heck, they got me down there.

To quote Family Guy patriarch Peter Griffin: “Why aren’t we funding this?”

Thanks to everyone at Hoosier Park, the media war table, my traveling companion Niki and everyone else that made my first Indiana Derby an interesting one. I hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts and observations throughout the raceday and afterward. If I find myself at a major event and lacking something to occupy my time again, perhaps this might become a regular thing. But we’ll burn that bridge when we cross it.

Eat. Bet. Drive.

The best damn burger in racing can be found at Ellis Park. The burger alone makes the eight hour drive totally worth it. Every time before I eat one, I photograph it just so I can remember the experience. It's that good.

My evening at Hoosier Park was just the first leg of my swing through the Midwest.

Over the five days of my road trip, I visited four tracks in Indiana, Kentucky and Ohio. Because each stop after Hoosier Park was a repeat visit, this post will lump together the remainder of my voyage with a series of photos.

Picking up where we left off last time, I hopped in my Trailblazer and headed south for Ellis Park. After spending about four and a half hours driving the roughly 280 miles from my home base to Anderson, Ind. the previous day, I traversed another 270-odd miles over another four and a half hours to get to Henderson, Ky.

Over the journey, I re-introduced myself to the soundtrack from the film Crazy Heart. Aside from being an outstanding arrangement of songs, driving around the countryside and hitting a different town every night can make a person feel like Bad Blake pretty quickly. You know, minus all the whiskey. Like any good road playlist, it just seemed to fit the situation.

When I start comparing myself to imaginary washed-up country singers, it’s time to get on with the story.

Behind the jump are photos and tales from the rest of my journey after leaving Hoosier Park.

An evening at Hoosier Park

Fans of the former Great Lakes Downs will find a lot to like in Hoosier Park.

Frequent visitors to this site have likely picked up on how much I miss Great Lakes Downs.

The Muskegon track was where I learned many of the nuances of the sport, and where interest became infatuation as I followed my grandpa’s racehorse, Royal Charley.

Now it’s an empty lot.

I’ve spent a lot of time and gas miles trying to recapture the magic I felt at GLD, only managing to find it in small doses – usually when the lights come on for night races.

No track will ever fully re-create the Great Lakes Downs experience, but a night at Hoosier Park is about as close as it gets. In fact, with its adjacent casino, Hoosier provides a look at perhaps what could have been if slots had been allowed in Michigan before the track was sold to the Little River Band of Ottawa Indians and knocked down.

The Anderson, Ind. plant is an enclosed structure split into four sections. The entrance is at the top landing, housing the gift shop, restaurant, a bar and a couple mall-style food stations. From there, patrons can choose one of two paths down to the apron. On the right is the dining area, which sits on several levels down the stairs. As I did at GLD, I imagine the wait staff, who has to climb up and down those stairs to serve their customers, must have calves of steel. The left side held the grandstand seating. At the bottom sat some concession stands and betting windows.

The similarities to GLD continued as I made my way out to the apron. The track surface is raised at the end of the apron to about shin-to-knee level. Hoosier managed to improve on this setup by putting an eye-level opening in the fence, which made the viewing experience much easier than watching the field go by through chain link.

The apron area is a little more spread out than Muskegon, but the paddock is more scenic. A fountain overlooked the saddling area, which led into a nicely landscaped walking ring.

I spent the day with my former Thoroughbred Times traveling companion Jeff Apel and grade school chum Niki. For my first time visiting the track, they were far from the only people I knew. While sitting at one of the trackside picnic tables, I heard someone call my name from the track. It was another friend from school working as an outrider. Small world. Of course, there were also plenty of transplants from Pinnacle Race Course and Mount Pleasant Meadows looking to take advantage of the sweeter pots. There is no doubt this increased my comfort level with getting used to a new track.

The effects slots have had at Hoosier Park are apparent in the quality of horses the track sends to post. On that particular night, the card featured large fields highlighted by the third place finisher in last year’s Sanford Stakes (G2) and a fringe Kentucky Derby trail horse from this year’s race. That is more than most tracks in the Midwest can boast.

My luck at the windows dwindled with the setting of the sun, and I was already staring down an 0-fer. I scanned through my program with a sense of optimism when I noticed three Michigan-breds entered in the sixth race, but none of them could put up much of a fight against the previously mentioned fringe Derby trail contender.

As night fell on the track, the Quarter Horses came out to play. The card was divided up into nine Thoroughbred races and three Quarter Horse races, for a total of 12 races overall. If the Thoroughbred races were robust, the Quarters were downright juicy. Full fields (before scratches) entered the gates for each race to run for an average purse of $23,833 for the evening. That’s a spicy meatball.

Despite my familiarity with the various Mount Pleasant connections competing in the races, I continued to whiff on the Quarter Horse portion of the card. However, Mount Pleasant trainer Tony Cunningham and jockey Juan Delgado did manage to score in the nightcap with Cant Tell Me Nothing, so if I wasn’t going to get paid, at least someone I knew was picking up the slack.

With the races in the rear view mirror, Niki and I hit up the casino. Like Indiana Downs, everything that is not a straight up slot machine is digital. The table games are arranged similar to the real thing, but players place bets and recieve their cards on a monitor. While some bemoan the lack of actual table games, I prefer the digital versions because no one else has to see how big of a coward I am being with my bets.

Despite my relative ineptitude in most casino games, I actually found myself about $30 ahead near the end of the night. Then, as we were heading out the door, the roulette wheel caught my attention from the corner of my eye and begged for some of my time. Roulette and I have a strange relationship – like that one friend everyone has that can be lots of fun to be around, but taxing on the wallet. Even though it is a complete game of chance, I still find it fascinating. It can be broken down statistically, even though doing so is a useless venture. It can hit random hot and cold streaks with numbers and colors, then blow them up without warning. Every plan and superstition is absolutely right and absolutely useless at the exact same time; kind of like horse racing.

Unlike most of the faux table games, the roulette wheel is real, but automated, so a human being is not needed to spin the wheel or deal with the ball. However, the terminals were still there, so no one had to see I was only putting a dollar on red or black with each spin. When you play with as small a bankroll as I had though, hitting a cold streak can add up. After zigging when I should have zagged a few times too many, I decided to cut myself off while I was still up by a reasonable amount (something in the $20 neighborhood) and call it a night. I had some driving ahead of me in the morning, anyway.

Now that I have visited both of Indiana’s racetracks, there will inevitably be comparisons. The main thing to keep in mind when discussing Hoosier Park and Indiana Downs is that Hoosier was in place long before slots became a reality, whereas Indiana was essentially built with a racino in mind.

As a place to watch races, Hoosier is the better of the two. The overall racetrack experience is more vibrant and practical. For all the fuss about racino tracks not being able to draw fans to the racetrack side of the action, the crowd was reasonably robust for a Friday night card, and the bar stayed busy hours after the last horse crossed the wire.

The casino at Indiana, on the other hand, is a little better – at least in the eyes of someone who has been to three casinos in his life, with two of them being in the focus group. The games themselves were about on par with each other, but it just felt there was more going on at the Shelbyville casino. With that said, each is a worthwhile destination for someone looking for action.

Instead of waxing poetic one last time about how much Hoosier Park reminds me of the good times at Great Lakes Downs, I will instead note that I like the track so much, I intend to return for the Indiana Derby on Oct. 2. While I will never forget the fun I had in Muskegon, I intend to create my share of new memories at Hoosier Park in due time.

Behind the jump are some pictures of my visit to Hoosier Park.

Arlington Park raises the bar

Arlington Park rightfully earns its reputation as one of America's best venues for fans and handicappers. Holy Thursday returns to unsaddle from a race with Inez Karlsson aboard.

With so much negativity surrounding the state of racing in North America, sometimes it’s refreshing to see a track that just gets it right.

After a weekend at Arlington Park, I found the track did so many things right that my bar for what makes a good racetrack has been set at a new level.

The trip to Arlington came to be after I landed some box seats on the cheap in last December’s Michigan Thoroughbred Owners and Breeders Association year-end silent auction.

After a bit of planning and schedule aligning, I got to cash in those tickets a few weeks ago. It was a day of racing and fancy dress (not going to lie, I suited up) with assistant trainer Emilie, superstar freelancer Claire Novak and some of her friends, followed by a night on the town in Chicago.

Arlington’s grandstand was a massive, silver-colored structure with a lean-to roof that hangs out over the grandstand. For some reason, I found the roof fascinating. I repeatedly pondered how much more fun watching the races would be if the fire sprinklers that were dotted across the roof went off at random intervals, climaxing with all of them going off at once for the duration of the day’s final race. Ideas like this are what will keep racing alive in the 21st century.

I was raised on the philosophy that if one can not say something nice, he or she should not say anything at all. With that in mind, I will refrain from comment about the tape recorded version of the national anthem played before the races.

After a few races, Claire, being at her home track and having connections everywhere, got our group into the paddock area. The structure itself was a tall, solid-looking wood building offering enough cover to walk a horse around in a rainstorm without feeling a drop. The walking ring and surrounding area were verdant and well landscaped, punctuated by the gorgeous Jessica Pacheco wandering about the ring and breaking down the field for the upcoming race. Between Pacheco and the cute bugler who played crowd-pleasing tunes (Little Spanish Flea!) and waved to the camera after each call to post, Arlington was not lacking for talent that was easy on the eyes.

On the way back to our box, we ran into Eclipse Award-winning trainer Wayne Catalano. Catalano was once a regular rider on the Detroit Race Course/Hazel Park circuit, so I was excited to meet him, but for different reasons than most. Unfortunately, our introduction was fleeting, so I did not get the chance to talk to him about his time in Detroit. As if I needed another reason to go back to this track…

My betting ventures on the weekend were largely forgettable. Over two days’ worth of racing, I cashed one ticket for about 20 bucks. My toughest beat came in the nightcap of our day in the box seats. While perusing the program, I noticed a gelding named Doublefour who ventured out to Will Rogers Downs for a start in April…and missed the board. Badly. He recovered with a decent second at Arlington in his next start, but that Will Rogers debacle and the considerable class jump he was attempting stuck in my mind. Despite Claire’s goading to support my small track roots and play the Will Rogers horse, I looked elsewhere. Doublefour ran away with it. Contrary to popular logic, I should never trust my instincts.

While my day in the not-so-cheap seats was unquestionably awesome, I knew I had not consumed the full Arlington experience. I had to return the following day and take everything in from the ground floor.

For attendees whose tickets were not awarded to them in a silent auction, a general admission ticket commanded eight dollars. While this is the most I have ever paid for a admission into a racetrack (remember, I had a media pass for Kentucky Derby weekend), the sticker shock was eased by the fact that a $3 program was included in the cost.

The plant’s ground floor was anchored by its mall-style center food court. There were no brand-name booths, but plenty of variety. After trying the requisite cheeseburger on Saturday (pretty good, but not quite Ellis Park good), I came across an item called Loaded Mac n’ Cheese that combined two of my favorite items – BBQ pulled pork and good old cheesy mac. Right in my wheelhouse. Did it usurp the third spot on my still-developing Holy Trinity of racetrack concession food (alongside the Ellis Park burger and Turfway Park grilled cheese)? Not quite. Was it still among the better meals I have had at a track? Yeah, probably.

Venturing outward from the food court on either side will lead to rows of mutuel tellers and self-service terminals. The track seemed to rely heavily on the self-service machines, which could be found just about anywhere on the grounds, and because they can be rather intimidating to a novice bettor, this meant the lines to place a bet rarely ran more than one or two deep, if that. I didn’t get shut out once, although with my lousy handicapping, I probably would have benefitted from missing the cut a few times.

The apron was multi-tiered with benches on every level. Not only did this ensure there were no bad sight-lines for people in the cheap seats, it also provided plenty of angles for photographers and tourists who think they are photographers like myself.

As one ventures from the grandstands toward the quarter pole, he or she will find a picnic area similar to Ellis Park’s, but on a grander scale. The grassy area hosted rows of shaded picnic tables, pavilions, food stands, and most importantly, gazebos with multiple self-service betting machines. A good racetrack gives its patrons an opportunity to bet around every corner. Arlington Park is a very good racetrack.

Among the various activities in the picnic area was a table sporting the logo of the Major League Soccer franchise Chicago Fire. Seated behind the table were three gentlemen who could easily pass for professional soccer players. Considering the fact that any United States-based player with any kind of name recognition was busy packing after squandering a golden opportunity against Ghana the previous day, the sparse attendance around the table was not unexpected.

At the end of the picnic area set a pair of festival tents teeming with children. One offered pony rides, complete with numbered saddlecloths on the miniature steeds. In the other was a petting zoo. I’ve seen a lot of awesome things at the races, but “petting zoo” is a new one. If taking pictures of strangers’ children didn’t make me feel really creepy, I’d show you myself.

The one thing I kept noticing as I walked around Arlington was how much fun everyone seemed to be having. Tables lined the apron with birthday and graduation parties. Kids rushed over to the tunnel between the paddock and the winner’s circle in hopes of snagging a pair of signed goggles from the winning jockey (which is a great idea for everyone involved from a marketing perspective) or enjoyed something in the picnic area. The racing was of good quality, but the experience of being there, “the show” if you will, is what put the track in a class of its own. Putting horses in a starting gate and letting them go will draw some gamblers, but it’s “the show”, the racetrack experience, that puts butts in the seats and keeps them coming back for generations. From what I have seen, no track has grasped this concept better than Arlington Park.

When I told my friends in the racing business I was going to visit Arlington, those who had been there unanimously gave it glowing reviews. They almost made it sound too good to be true. However, after seeing what the track had to offer from the box seats and the apron benches, Arlington absolutely lived up to the hype. The streak of glowing testimonials lives on.

Photos of my weekend at Arlington Park can be found behind the jump.

Mount Pleasant Meadows in photos

The Mount Pleasant Meadows 2010 meet is off and running; as is Thoroughbred Sweet at Best, ridden by Nate Alcala.

The first two weeks of Mount Pleasant Meadows’ 2010 meet are in the books.

I’ve been telling a lot of long-winded stories lately, so for the beginning of Mount Pleasant’s season, I’m going to let the photos do most of the talking. Between stakes races and general goings-on, more than enough will be written about the central Michigan track in due time.

For those interested in a written description of the track, my review of last year’s opening day can be found here. A few names and faces may have shuffled since last year, but the general feel of the place remains the same.

Before we commence with the photos, this seems as good a time as any to once again plug the Mount Pleasant Meadows Facebook page, to which I have been contributing. Readers interested in learning more about the track are encouraged to become “fans” by visiting the page and clicking on the appropriate button.

Now, without further ado, behind the jump are photos from the last two week’s worth of races at Mount Pleasant Meadows. Enjoy!

Derby Fever: The most exciting two minutes in sports

Churchill Downs bugler Steve Buttleman summons the Kentucky Derby field to the track with the Call To Post.

Regardless of the profession, just about everyone involved in the horse racing industry has, at one point in his or her life, been asked the same question.

“Have you been in the Kentucky Derby?”

The question is normally posed with an air of smugness from a person who has no real interest in the answer or knowing more about the sport than the little guys in the colorful shirts and that one horse that died a few years ago.

The odds are pretty slim that I will one day be a participant in the world’s most recognizable horse race, but at least I have gotten close enough to lie.

The long-threatened stormy weather had settled over the greater Loiusville area and had everything soaked by the time I reached the media lot in the morning. With even more congestion and traffic restrictions than the day before, the bus ride to the track was its usual nail-biting affair. But in the end, the driver got us to the gate in one piece.

For what some may consider the biggest day of racing in North America, the grounds were quite peaceful the morning of the race. Naturally, there were the normal sounds of employees rushing about and a few wandering patrons discussing the upcoming card, but hardly the overwhelming scene for which I had prepared myself.

The press box, on the other hand, was already abuzz with turf writers preparing for the day ahead. I set up my office at the Thoroughbred Times table and began compulsive checking my social networking accounts in an attempt to settle my nerves. Like many other addicting behaviors though, it only worked until I stopped doing it.

First post was at 10:30 a.m. before a modest crowd, even for a normal day at Churchill Downs. The infield, normally a spot for shirtless debauchery, was soggy and desolate. The reserved seats six stories below the media balcony were largely unpopulated. Because it was my first Derby, I was unsure if this was a normal happenstance or if the wind and rain were going to scare off so many fans I would have to help report a new record low attendance. Many a lady’s large, expensive hat liberated itself from its head as its owner lunged helplessly toward it.

The crowd gradually thickened throughout the day until it reached a Derby-quality level. By the end of the day, the anarchic nation that was the infield had formed a mud pit near the clubhouse turn for sliding and wrestling. Compared to Kentucky Oaks day, the general admission types were largely better behaved. Whether the $40 price tag for bottom-barrel admission kept out the riff-raff, or they just all congregated in the infield, all I know is one less mint julep ended up on my suit at the end of the day.

My two on-track assignments for the day were the Churchill Distaff Turf Mile and the Woodford Reserve Turf Classic. Then, after the big race, I was to wander the backstretch in search of quotes from the losing connections.

First on the list was the Distaff Turf Mile. Because of the weather, the crowds huddled under the covered areas of the ground floor. This meant dropping a shoulder like retired NFL fullback Craig “Ironhead” Heyward and plowing through the masses from the press box to the “Owners and Trainers Only” door. Am I an owner and/or trainer? No. Did I have a laminated piece of cardboard that let me through anyway? Oh yeah.

While the field made its way toward the gates, I leaned on the rail in the winner’s circle and took in the surroundings. One of the most fascinating aspects of what was going on around me was the members of the National Guard placed at every other rail post approaching the finish line. I felt a strange mix of respect and pity as they stood at attention in the driving rain for no apparent reason, other than to serve as human lawn ornaments. Watching them pass the order of “at ease” down the line like a game of “telephone” was also quite hypnotic. Personally, I can not think of any Derby-related job I would want less, short of tending to the infield Port-A-Johns, but it sure is cool to see them whizz by as the camera follows the lead horse to the wire.

The race was won by Todd Pletcher charge Phola, which held steady with my “hope for the easily recognizable connections” plan. However, my ease quickly turned to dread when I realized I had misplaced Pletcher in the winner’s circle. Among his list of skills, he has apparently added the ability to vanish like a ninja. Perhaps this was the one thing that was standing between him and that elusive first Kentucky Derby win. Anyway, I eventually got what I needed and got to work on the story, which can be read here.

While working on the above story, I saw a large faction of the Thoroughbred Times staff gathered around a laptop displaying the races from Beulah Park. The central Ohio track’s Fortune 6 carryover had floated into seven digits with a forced payout on the last day of the meet, and team TTimes had a piece of the action. With one of the biggest betting cards of the year happening right outside the press box window, the eyes of many were on a field of $5,000 claimers a couple hundred miles away. Someone at Beulah Park deserves a very nice bonus.

The TTimes crew ended up hitting the wager, but with so many other punters chasing the prize and a lack of long-priced horses coming home first, their share was well whittled down from the $1 million-plus. I don’t recall the exact payout, but it was certainly worth playing.

With the last race’s story in the tank, it was time for the Woodford Reserve Turf Classic. The rain continued to pour as I stood at the rail near the jockeys’ scales chatting with the equally drenched handler of pacesetter Wise River. As the field headed to the post, announcer Mark Johnson hyped the Woodford Reserve as the most prestigious turf race in North America. I was not aware of this. In fact, I would imagine the folks behind the Arlington Million may have something to say about that statement, but I could be wrong.

The race was won in a hard-fought effort by fan-favorite General Quarters. From a writing perspective, the race could not have turned out any better, because this meant getting a chance to interview the horse’s owner/trainer/groom Tom McCarthy. For those unfamiliar with the back story, General Quarters is McCarthy’s only charge, and has been since his unlikely claimer-to-Derby run last year. From just about every account, McCarthy is a kindly old man, and a former high school principal, who planned to ride General Quarters into retirement. It’s hard not to root for a guy like him, and I couldn’t have been happier to see his horse pull off the upset.

McCarthy was visibly emotional as he made his way to the winner’s circle to meet his horse. I spoke to him briefly before General Quarters made his way back to the grandstands, and he gave a model interview with great, meaningful quotes. He also provided an interesting twist when he revealed that jockey Robby Abarado, rider of second place Court Vision and former regular rider of the winner, was the one who suggested General Quarters try the turf. Now, I not only wanted to hug McCarthy because I was happy for his big win, but because he provided yet another great hook for the story. This race was what turf writing is all about.

I headed back to the press box licking my chops to turn in this story. Unfortunately, I had to keep it brief. The Woodford Reserve led into the Kentucky Derby, and this wouldn’t be a very fun story to tell if I spent the race locked away in the press box. With that said, I was very glad to have an hour and a half to get the story done, and finished with plenty of time to spare. My recap of the Woodford Reserve Turf Classic Stakes can be read here.

With that story turned in, it was time to focus on the big one. As the horses were led in front of the grandstand to the paddock, the steady rain that bogged down Loiusville the entire day gave way to blue skies and the clouds opened to reveal the sun. If Hollywood would have come up with such a scene, it would have been panned by critics for being too cheesy. However, even the most jaded race-goer could not criticize how nice it was to finally step out into the media balcony and not have to fight against the wind.

As some of my readers may recall, one of my stated goals for Kentucky Derby weekend was not to cry during the live rendition of “My Old Kentucky Home”. The song, played during the race’s post parade, is famous for causing patrons and participants to get overcome with emotion. In fact, trainer Bob Baffert was quoted this year claiming people who do not get at least misty-eyed during the song may lack a soul. Whatever the ramifications, I am proud to say I did not well up during the playing of the Stephen Foster-penned song. That’s not to say I did not struggle a bit. In that context, with everyone half-soberly singing along, the song is quite powerful. However, having tears on one’s eyes makes it difficult to aim a camera, so I sucked it up and stayed focused on the task at hand.

Like two out of the last three Kentucky Derbies before it, this year’s installment climaxed with Super Saver and jockey Calvin Borel getting an inch on the rail and taking a mile all the way to a blanket of roses. The sloppy track had made the rail a bog all day, so it is easy to understand why the competition would want to stay closer to the center of the track. But when facing a man whose legend is built by scraping his left stirrup with white paint, on a live horse nonetheless, it is surprising no one thought to seal that lane off.

Borel did not appear to have the same outpouring of jubilation he had when he won the race aboard Street Sense or Mine That Bird, but the ever-smiling Cajun was still animated in the saddle as he was led back before a roaring crowd. As a group in the press box watched the post-race action on a monitor, I posed the question of how many more of these Borel would have to win before Churchill Downs puts a statue of him in the paddock area next to the one of Pat Day. Someone suggested the track may someday put Borel’s monument in place of Day’s.

Through all the excitement, I realized I had hit the Derby exacta. It was only for a dollar to account for boxing multiple horses, but the payout was more than enough to put me in the black at the windows for the weekend.

The race was over. While many people in the grandstands were getting ready for the trip home, the night in the press box was just beginning. After a couple viewings of the replay, senior writer Frank Angst and I walked over to the backstretch to get quotes from the losing connections. I was assigned Paddy O’Prado, Noble’s Promise, Stately Victor, Dean’s Kitten, Lookin at Lucky, Conveyance, Backtalk, Homeboykris and Awesome Act.

This brings us to Surreal Moment #3 of the weekend. Somehow, a pretend journalist from the middle of nowhere, Michigan had been allowed on the backstretch of Churchill Downs after the most recognizable race in the world and he was about to get one-on-one face time with some of the biggest names in the profession. Whoa.

What really made it wild was how calm everything was. Media was sparse, as was security. If aliens were to land on the Churchill Downs backstretch, it would be hard to convince them that a major race had just been run.

Remember in my Oaks post when I said talking to Mike Maker in the paddock ended up paying dividends later? The trainer of Stately Victor and Dean’s Kitten (and Michigan native) was the first person I found on my scavenger hunt and was easily the best interview on the list. There is little doubt this was aided by our meeting the previous day. A hat tip goes to Ed DeRosa for that bit of advice and to Mr. Maker for being so accommodating.

My search continued, as I wandered the shedrows looking for trainers, while wearing shoes that were in no way designed to cover the expansiveness of the backstretch area (and yes, I can hear the female turf writing population saying “try doing it in heels.” I completely understand and sympathize with your predicament, but just let me have this one for today). Many were in their offices. Some showed up later. Some didn’t show up at all.

In the meantime, this afforded me time to take in the scenery and watch these horses I have seen on television and read about in magazines get cooled out and hosed down just the same as the cheap claimer in the stall next door. Walking by Nick Zito’s barn, I saw Jackson Bend’s #13 saddlecloth draped over a gate. Without even seeing the race, a lot could be known about the horse’s trip by the layer of mud that caked the already brown-colored blanket.

As a couple Associated Press reporters and I waited for Bob Baffert to return to his barn (he didn’t), we watched as post time favorite, and eventual Preakness Stakes winner, Lookin At Lucky had the last traces of dirt from his nightmare trip in the Derby washed off before being put away for the night. A group of well-dressed girls who happened to be wandering by posed for a picture about 15 feet in front of the champion two-year-old as he was receiving his bath and then left. I was rooting for the groom to “accidentally” spray them with the hose.

It took some time and some walking, but I finally got quotes from every barn on my list. The only major disappointment came when I left Rick Dutrow’s barn and realized he hadn’t called me “babe” once during the course of our interview. All things considered, I’m OK with this being the worst thing to happen during my time on the backstretch.

As the evening sunk into night, I made my way back to the press box to transcribe my notes and prepare to head back to the hotel for the night. After one last interesting bus ride back to the media lot with superstar freelancer Claire Novak, my Kentucky Derby weekend officially came to a close. Sleeping in the next morning never felt so good.

Attending and reporting on my first Kentucky Derby was an incredible experience. I am extremely grateful to the staff of Thoroughbred Times for allowing me the opportunity to pitch in on their coverage and for getting me places I would have never imagined I’d be only a few years ago. To those I met for the first time over the weekend, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. To friends I already knew, it was great to see you again. Finally, to those of you who have been following along with my tales about Derby weekend, thank you very much for reading and commenting. Hopefully you have gotten some enjoyment from my experience on one of the sport’s biggest stages. I sure know I did.

Behind the jump are some shots from the Kentucky Derby post parade.

Opening day at a glance

Later Version and Richard Rettele (blue, inside) battle Luckys Rambler and Amanda Keller (red, outside) in a Quarter Horse race at Mount Pleasant Meadows. Later Version emerged victorious.

With all the activities that comprise Memorial weekend, there is little time right now to look back on opening day at Mount Pleasant Meadows (and finally get around to discussing my Kentucky Derby day. It’s in the works, I promise). Hopefully the photo above will suffice until everything settles down.

While we are on the subject of Mount Pleasant Meadows, be sure to check out the track’s new fan page on Facebook. I have been recruited to contribute to the page, which features updates, photos and discussions regarding Michigan’s only mixed breed racetrack. It sure is fun to watch the fan count rise, so Facebook users are encouraged to add it to their lists.

Have a safe and enjoyable Memorial Day, gang.

Derby Fever: The Oaks

With nasty weather looming, Kentucky Oaks day drew a record crowd. Calvin Borel walks back to the jock's room after a race.

After a couple days of hard driving, harder partying (for me, at least) and wandering around the Churchill Downs backstretch, it was time to get down to business.

My drive to Churchill Downs that morning was turning out to be a glorious one. The sun was shining, KISS was blaring from my Trailblazer’s speakers and thanks to the fancy new suit I had purchased for the occasion, I was looking very, very good.

This moment of transcendence was quickly derailed, however, when I realized I had left the headphones to my tape recorder back in my hotel room. Going without would not have spelled my doom for the day, but it would have made the simple procedure of transcribing far more difficult and likely quite grating for those around me. Every once in a while, I wonder to myself how I have made any progress at all in the turf writing business. Sometimes I can be really bad at the whole “journalist” thing.

I pulled onto the last exit in Indiana before crossing the bridge over the Ohio River into Kentucky. After a series of turns and on-ramps that required way too much effort to get turned around, I made a quick run back to my room and was on the road again.

Eventually, I made it to the media lot. For Derby weekend, the media is given a lot near the University of Louisville’s Papa John’s Football Stadium about a half mile away from the track and shuttled to the grandstand or backstretch. This brought us into Surreal Moment #2 of the weekend.

Members of the media were shuttled from the parking lot to the grandstand by a fleet of decommissioned school buses. This fact stood out on its own, considering I had not once ridden on a school bus in the five years since I graduated from high school. What put it into the surreal territory was being crammed in a school bus with some of the turf writers I grew up reading. In the same setting where I sat nervously waiting for a football game, I now eavesdropped as Mike Watchmaker reminiced about the glory days of the New Jersey racing circuit. It took longer than it should have for this to sink in.

The bus trips were always mildly terrifying for two reasons. First, to better control traffic (I would assume), the National Guard had shut down certain roads and turn lanes. Many of the drivers were apparently not informed of these blockages, which led to several unexpected detours, especially at night. Second, everyone on board seemed to have the vague sense that the driver might not know where he or she was going. I will restrain from being too critical, because I would have done an infinitely worse job, but people with more experience in Louisville than I seemed to agree that there were better, more efficient routes to take.

The bus ride into the track provided a few moments of calm before the storm to relax, look out the window and do some people-watching. As we drew closer to the property, more and more houses offered parking in their yards and driveways to overflow patrons who could not get into the track’s lots. Judging by the general property value of the houses providing this service, a motorist may have been safer parking in a fire lane, getting towed and having the impound lot serve as his or her valet.

After exiting the bus (those steps are smaller than I remember), I made my way through the ground floor and to the media elevator. The handy media pass that allowed me access to said elevator matched my suit, which seemed to excite only me. Shortly after setting up in the press box, I was approached by superstar freelancer Claire Novak, who wanted to do a brief feature about my first Derby weekend for her Youbet.com blog. Being the attention-starved person that I am, I jumped at the opportunity. I can not speak with certainty, but that may be the first time I have been quoted for a story where I was a more than a random “student on the street” for my college paper. Thanks to Claire for making that happen.

My assignments for the day were to cover the Kentucky Juvenile Stakes, the American Turf Stakes and gather some “scene” quotes from racegoers at Churchill Downs. On a personal level, I made it my business to be as close to the action as possible for the La Troienne Stakes, which featured 2009 Horse of the Year Rachel Alexandra.

By the time the La Troienne came around, the crowd throughout the racetrack had become quite thick. At final count, this year’s Oaks had drawn a record crowd of 116,048. Whether it was the allure of the Oaks itself, the additional draw of a popular Horse of the Year or the impending storm heading toward Louisville the following day, people came in droves, which made it hard to get from place to place, and nearly impossible to do it in a hurry.

The only prior experience I had with shoulder-to shoulder crowds of this caliber was Keeneland Race Course. However, when the attendance figures are stacked up, Keeneland suddenly seems less claustrophobic. To compare, Keeneland is similar to going to one’s local music venue to see the J. Geils Band. It may be a little cramped, and some may be in varying levels of altered states, but everyone knows why they are there and what they are doing. On the other hand, Kentucky Derby weekend felt more akin to the Warped Tour. There were tons of distractions, patrons generally could not handle their alcohol and they had less regard for those around them (this will come into play later) but there were an awful lot of acts worth seeing.

It took some bobbing and weaving, but I finally managed to make my way into the paddock. Judging by the mob of people with less-than-professional cameras in the middle of the walking ring, my plan was not unique.

It became apparent that Rachel was approaching the vicinity by the ever-loudening sound of the crowd as she made the walk from the backstretch. A disappointed groan rolled through the paddock as each new horse was brought in who did not have two Eclipse Awards on her resume. Finally, the defending champ was led into the paddock to the sound of cameras clicking away from the several-deep crowd. One couple with pink shirts and interesting haircuts held high a sign that read, “We drove from Jersey to see Rachel.” It is good to see there are fans out there with dedication.

As Rachel was led out of the paddock with the ever-smiling Calvin Borel in the saddle, I rushed to the same spot I had stood when two-time Horse of the Year Curlin took the same path on his way to winning the 2008 Stephen Foster Handicap and got a couple shots.

The race, expected by most to be a fairly unchallenging victory for Rachel after a necessary tune-up race, did not quite go as planned. Rachel Alexandra was well placed, if a bit uncomfortably ridden, through the first turn and backstretch and appeared primed to pull away at the top of the stretch. However, she was joined by Unrivaled Belle, who engaged her throughout the straightaway and out-kicked the champion to win the race.

There was little time to reflect on the race, as my first assignment, the Kentucky Juvenile, was up next. As the first graded stakes race for two-year-olds in North America, there was little background to draw on for each horse – Mostly just their pedigree, their connections and by how many lengths they won their maiden effort.

The race was won in a fairly convincing manner by Dogwood Stable’s Lou Brissie. Aside from some brief trouble spotting winning trainer Neil Howard (when I cover a race, I tend to root for the Pletchers, Bafferts and Asmussens of the world because I can easily identify them), getting the story together went fairly smoothly. My recap of the Kentucky Juvenile can be read here.

Somewhere in all the commotion during the day, Ed and I found trainer Mike Maker in the paddock. As I have alluded to in previous posts, Maker is a Michigan native and got his start at the Detroit racetracks. So as not to blow any shred of professionalism I may have all to hell, I only briefly talked about being from Michigan with him. However, that face time may have ended up paying dividends later. More on that in the next installment.

The next race I was scheduled  to cover was the American Turf Stakes. I lucked out when Todd Pletcher trainee Doubles Partner took the rail to victory. Pletcher, Gomez, no mystery. I spoke to both of them in the winner’s circle and tried my darndest to get everything done before the main event, the Kentucky Oaks, coming up next. The story on the American Turf can be found here.

For the Oaks itself, I assisted with gathering some quotes from the losing connections following the race. This meant getting to talk to the connections of Evening Jewel, who just had their hearts ripped out after Blind Luck staged one of her trademark screaming stretch runs to just get up at the wire by half a nose hair. Super.

Evening Jewel’s trainer, James Cassidy, went back to the barn with the horse, so that left me with jockey Kent Desormeaux. Understandably, he did not appear in the mood to talk. Fortunately, it’s hard to say “no” to a mob of reporters, so I got what I needed and headed back to the press box.

On my way there, I decided to grab one more interview for my “scene” quotes. I spotted a man who looked like he would provide some intelligent commentary and proceeded to ask him some questions. Remember what I said earlier about how Churchill Downs patrons typically appeared to be inconsiderate and bad at being drunk? My theory was soon proven accurate. As I conducted the interview and the man politely answered my questions, I heard the sound of glass breaking. Then I got very wet.

As I looked up to see what happened, I saw two frat-boy types in pink shirts (normally a distinguishing feature for idiot frat boys, but on pink-themed Oaks day, they were just two in the crowd) getting in each other’s faces. One was bleeding quite nicely from the back of the head. I quickly surmised that one had thrown a commemorative Kentucky Derby mint julep glass, still full apparently, at the other and we had been hit with the shrapnel.

The fellow I was interviewing completed the interview like a trooper and I got out of there before finding out what became of the two bozos. When I arrived back in the press box, I ran my hand through my hair and pulled out a mint leaf. My suit wreaked of alcohol for the remainder of the weekend. Fortunately, I had a backup.

After taking care of a few other tasks, Oaks day had come to a close. Ed, Sale Guru Emily and I then headed to a nearby Vietnamese restaurant where I had some decent General Tso’s Chicken and used the outside of a glass of water to relieve my sunburn, which I had acquired over the day.

Mint julep and sunburn issues aside, Oaks day was definitely a memorable one. However, there was not much time to sit back and reflect. I had to get back to the hotel, wash off the bourbon and get ready for the next day, because it was going to be big.

Behind the jump are some photos from Oaks day and the day of races that preceded it.

Derby Fever: The Build-Up

One of the highlights of Kentucky Derby weekend was watching the contenders head out to the track for their morning workouts. Among them was Arkansas Derby winner Line of David.

Historically, Michigan-breds have had little impact on the Kentucky Derby.

Participation in the race by Michigan horses is not well documented, and the only immediately available example is Bass Clef, who finished third in the 1961 installment of the classic race.

With that in mind, there was very little precedence to draw from as I spent the weekend at Churchill Downs reporting, absorbing and just trying to keep up during all the excitement surrounding the Kentucky Derby and Oaks.

The festivities began for me Wednesday night. After a seven-hour drive and paying way too much for the last hotel room in Sellersburg, Ind. (my originally scheduled hotel was in Frankfort, Ky., about an hour from Churchill Downs, which, looking back, would have been nearly impossible for me to pull off), I quickly made myself presentable and headed into Louisville for the Kentucky Derby Media Party.

The party was a cocktails-and-dancing affair, with blinding stage lights and a live band that spread the ball around in terms of lead singers and genres. I spent my bulk of my time with Thoroughbred Times news editor Ed DeRosa, Sale Guru Emily and her friend Natalie trying to spot notable figures in the racing world.

The most immediately recognizable figure of the evening was trainer Chip Woolley, who saddled Mine That Bird to victory in last year’s Derby. His trademark black cowboy hat and mustache easily stood out among the hatless masses, who frequently swarmed him for the chance to have a picture taken together. Woolley did not have a horse on the Derby trail this year, much less one in the race, but his popularity was apparent throughout the weekend by the size of his entourage. Even if he never has another big-time horse, Woolley is the kind of figure who will remain popular around Derby time at Churchill Downs for years to come because he has the right look, a great story and he appears to connect well with race fans. One could only imagine how the sport would be different if it had more high-profile characters like him.

Other high-profile figures seen around the party included owners Ken and Sarah Ramsey and Robert LaPenta. The latter was partially responsible for a wager between Emily and I to see who could procure the most Derby contender pins over the weekend after a member of his group gave Emily one of his Jackson Bend buttons. I regret to say I was soundly blanked by a margin of 3-0. However, in my defense, the rules of journalistic ethics more than likely prohibit me from asking for free swag from connections. That’s the excuse I am giving for my shoddy performance, at least.

The next morning started on the backstretch as the Derby and Oaks contenders headed out for their morning jogs. In the past, I have normally come across big-name horses one or two at a time – perhaps at a stakes race at Keeneland or dropping into lighter company elsewhere. That morning, however, horses I had seen on TV and in magazines were walking by every few moments, made easily identifiable with their named yellow or pink saddlecloths signifying them as Derby or Oaks contenders.

This leads us to Surreal Moment #1 of the weekend. After the horses had returned from their workouts, Ed, Emily and I headed to the barns for interviews with the Derby trainers. Similar to the horses walking out to the track, the sheer concentration of high-profile trainers in the barn area bordered on mind-boggling. Within a span of three barns housed mega-trainers Bob Baffert, Todd Pletcher and Nick Zito – all of whom were mobbed by cameras, microphones and tape recorders absorbing their every thought on the Derby, their charges and whatever else may come up in the course of the conversation. As Baffert mugged it up for the cameras, his two Derby entries, Lookin at Lucky and Conveyance, took turns getting hosed down in the background as photographers snapped away.

Simply put, I was no longer in Kansas…or Michigan for that matter.

After all the quotes had been gathered and the horses put away, we headed over to the front side for the rest of the day.

The Churchill Downs press box is on the sixth floor of the grandstand. It is an expansive area with rows of long tables for turf writers to ply their trade and a row of self-service betting machines for them to practice their hobby. Suspended above the room are television monitors of varying sizes displaying the races from several different venues, though most were tuned to the Churchill Downs signal.

The front of the room is lined with windows which overlook the track, though an even better view can be obtained by walking out onto the balcony. As someone with a mild fear of heights, it took several races before being able to look at the finish line, which is almost straight down, without white-knuckle gripping the railing. Throughout the weekend, I remained terrified I was going to drop something over the edge, particularly my camera, but I made it through the weekend without incident. When the uneasiness finally subsided, the view was breathtaking.

Another perk of the press box was that it was catered. I did not partake as much as I probably should have (especially given my well-noted cheapskatedness), but the fare was varied throughout the weekend and they kept it fresh. Not to sound too much like a bad Yakov Smirnoff joke, but where I come from, the press box is the driver’s seat of my dinged up Trailblazer catered by the hot dog I bought at the concession stand. On my end, everything above a desk, chair and internet access was gravy.

My primary goal for Thursday’s race day was to get a lay of the land and situate myself for what was to come for the weekend. Having gone through a similar experience covering the 2008 Stephen Foster Handicap when I interned for Thoroughbred Times, I had some background on where to go and what to do, but a reboot was definitely needed after a two-year absence. I did not have any responsibilities in regards to producing work for Thoroughbred Times, so I was able to sit back and enjoy the day of racing. Getting that day at half-speed was a big help to prepare for the full-contact days that lied ahead.

This concludes part one of what looks to be a three-part adventure. Behind the jump are some photos from the morning workouts and media frenzy around the Churchill Downs backstretch.