Running For the Roses on Valentine's Day

My wife continues to amaze me.  In the past year, she has given birth, moved twice (once while pregnant and once with a 5 month-old), started a new job, and come through it all relatively intact.  Then, this past Valentine's Day, she went beyond the beyonds.  A gift no married man (let alone father) dare dream of, for fear of psychological institutionalization.  Yes, my wife gave me her unsolicited blessing and a plane ticket to attend the 2010 Kentucky Derby.  With two friends whose reputations for the perpetuation of general nonsense precede them.  On the weekend before our daughter's first birthday.  I don't know if I could have reacted more enthusiastically if she had told me that Gisele was going to use our apartment for a week-long lingerie fashion shoot.  I leaped up from the table at the restaurant and nearly knocked her over with my embrace.  This called for celebration.  This called for bourbon.

As the romantic dinner at our favorite intimate restaurant in Brooklyn Heights continued, and the glow showed no signs of wearing off, I began to wonder to myself: "Why am I so damn happy?"  I wouldn't call myself a hardcore horse racing fan by any means.  Yes, I have been to the track a handful of times in my life, and I know how to read a Racing Form, but it isn't something that I keep up with daily, like I do baseball and football, or even casually, like basketball and soccer.  I have never especially wanted to attend a Super Bowl, unless the Patriots were involved, and even then, I've had four chances in the past decade and I never once bothered to cruise eBay for tickets.  Sure, they would have been out of my price range, but I was a dumb 26 year-old when they won Super Bowl 36 in 2002 in New Orleans, where my parents live and am generally allowed to stay free of charge.  Surely, if there is any time to toss away $500-$1000 on a Super Bowl ticket, it's then.  "Eh," I reasoned, "The seats will probably suck.  Better to watch on TV."  A World Series game?  Sure, if the Red Sox are involved.  Did I bother in 2004 or 2007?  No.  So, what is it about watching 20 or so horses I've never heard of race for two minutes that has me so pumped?  For one thing, Touch Gold.

In 1997, I took a summer job in New York before my senior year of college at Washington University.  I was crashing on the futon in my brother Adam's one-bedroom walk-up apartment in the East Village and ready for my first 21 summer in the city.  My brother's friend is a bit of horse aficianado and they invited me to attend the Belmont Stakes.  I had never been to a horse race before and now I was going to a Triple Crown race.  Not only that, the city was abuzz about Silver Charm, who had won the Derby and the Preakness and was the favorite to take the first Triple Crown since Affirmed in 1978.  We took a train to Belmont Park, which I had no idea was near the city, let alone virtually in Queens.  Until this point, I had refrained from raising one of my main concerns for fear of seeming uncool: "How much am I going to have to pay to get into the Belmont Stakes?"  Surely, Adam's friend had gotten us tickets in advance and I would have to come up with the cash eventually, somehow, but how much?  I mean, it's a Triple Crown race!  With an actual Triple Crown at stake.  Could it be $100?  $200?  $500?  We get to the ticket booth and the moment of truth arrives.  The ticket man says "Two dollars."  Excuse me?  Two bucks to get into the biggest sporting event the entire world is talking about?  God bless horse racing!  God bless America!

We get in and I am stunned to learn that the Belmont Stakes will not take place for another 6 hours.  What am I to do in the meantime?  Learn to bet the ponies, of course.  Adam and his friend try to teach me the racing form, but like any natural gambler, I am only interested in the big payoff.  Who cares if a particular horse is favored to win me $3 if I bet $2?  I want the horse that will set me for life if it wins!  50-1 odds?  Come on down!

By the time the showcase race rolled around, I had wised up a bit, but I still wasn't onboard with betting Silver Charm and his paltry payout.  I was conflicted because wouldn't it be more fun to bet on the horse that could make history, the one everyone was here to see?  Instead, I bet Touch Gold, who was among the favorites, but promised a bigger payday than Silver Charm.  Little did I know that I had made the best choice of all.  Not just because Touch Gold won, spoiling the Triple Crown bid, but because "Touch Gold" is so much more fun to say roughly 156 times in succession as he's turning into the homestretch with a two dollar ticket in your hand.  Caught up in the excitement of the moment, surrounded by thousands of people, the only natural thing to do is repeat the name of the horse over and over again throughout the race.  It was then that I was hooked.  But, that is only a small part of why this year's Kentucky Derby race excites me so much.  The other part belongs to my friend Jim, who I will be going with, along with another friend, Perry.  The story of Jim deserves its own blog post, coming soon.