terrific trio

One Corner of the Belmont Crowd

The long, empty years since Affirmed thrice outran Alydar on the way to the Triple Crown have left horse racing fans desperate to witness this particular sort of sports history.  In 2004, my late friend Debbie G. and I were among the throng of 100,000 plus who put up with an afternoon of showers to watch Smarty Jones chase immortality.  Philadelphia’s darling ran a game, but unthreatening second that left us damp and disappointed.  In 2008, I dragged my son Daniel to a broiling day at Belmont that featured the failure of the park’s plumbing.  It was a sort of Woodstock for 105,000 members of the parimutuel nation who expected to see  the supposedly invincible Big Brown grab the triple.  Rick Dutrow’s pony never challenged for the lead and, in fact, pulled up over a half mile from the wire to record a dismal DNF.  2012 gave us the pretensions of I’ll Have Another, a fine pony who had benefited from two exquisite rides by Mario Gutierez to just catch Bodemeister for wins at Churchill Downs and Pimlico.  Word had it that over 125,000 souls would journey to the farthest bound of Queens to see the unhappy streak finally undone by the California based colt.

Of course, anticipation about the run for history was leavened by the controversy surrounding I’ll Have Another’s trainer.  So eminent a racing personality as Peggy Chenery, the woman who brought Secretariat to the world, weighed in with an opinion to the effect that the Triple Crown was tarnished by the mere propinquity of the likes of Doug O’Neill.  Effective July 1, O’Neill will commence a 45 day, California imposed, suspension that all states will honor.   The trainer has long been fighting accusations of “milkshaking” some of his horses.  A “milkshake,” in this sense,  is a nasally delivered mixture of baking soda, sugar and electrolytes that can diminish post race fatigue.  Such dosing is illicit, in part, because it can lead to over working the stimulated horses.  And O’Neill, though denying the practice, has admitted regrets about running some animals too much earlier in his career.  The New York Racing and Wagering Board was so unnerved by O’Neill’s impending suspension (and, of course,  the assumption that smoke and fire seldom keep their distance) that it imposed the unusually harsh requirement of a detention barn for all Belmont Stakes entries starting Wednesday June 6.  This tightly monitored, heavily securitized zone  would greatly diminish, if not absolutely prevent, the likelihood of the chemical improvement of a contestant’s chances.

Though cynically referred to as the “O’Neill rule,” the Board insisted it had no intention other than to assure the unassailable probity of this year’s victor.  Perhaps the restriction on any special ministration to I’ll Have Another convinced his people that the jig was up.  Perhaps it just prevented perfectly legitimate attentions that their champion required for his optimum performance.  Perhaps the O’Neill crew decided, whatever their ambitions, that the mile and a half challenge of the Belmont was finally too daunting for their horse.  Perhaps, given the especial publicity of the moment,  they humanely decided that the colt was indeed injured just enough to require his removal from the field.  Whatever the truth, I’ll Have Another was scratched 30 hours prior to post time and tens of thousands of weekend plans were roiled.

How many would venture beyond Bellerose just to see a first quality stakes race?  A mere 85,000, as it turned out, passed the turnstiles.  (Interesting point of comparison: about 90,000 people – paulieb among them- watched Secretariat’s record setting victory in 1973).  Those who showed up were well rewarded for their effort.  Saturday’s racing conditions were pluperfect – firm on the Widener Turf oval and fast on the main track.  Bettors had a full slate of high quality races upon which to exercise their handicapping muscles    Additionally,  early June provided a warm, only slightly humid,  atmosphere that made the crowd and contestants comfortable. Picnickers packed the park.   Women wore big hats.  Beer flowed.  A danceable band blasted frat house rock all afternoon.  And on top of all that, the 144th running of the great stakes, though a tad slow, proved a classic of the series.

With I’ll Have Another out I shifted my betting interest to the pony that had preoccupied me on Kentucky Derby day.  Union Rags, the long striding charge of trainer Michael Matz seemed to fit the bill for the longest of the great American stakes.  True, the pony ran miserably at Churchill Downs after struggling to garner only show money at the Florida Derby. Those failures, however, I laid at the door of now replaced jockey Julien Desparoux, who allowed UR to get pinched at the break in two consecutive major races.  His new rider, soon to be Racing Hall of Famer John Velazquez, would make the difference. The horse would go off second favorite to Dullahan, the Blue Grass Stakes champ who looked spritely while training  the week before the race but, in this writer’s opinion, had next to no chance to prevail in Queens.

The race proved a fitting coda to what has been a fine, if frustrating, Triple Crown season. Breaking without incident from the three hole, Union Rags was quickly steered toward the rail by Velazquez and settled into fifth place, running comfortably while saving ground. Up on the lead was the intriguing Paynter. Trained by Bodemeister’s mentor, Bob Baffert, the pony had skipped the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness. His presence here meant that Mr. Baffert, no neophyte, saw something promising in him. And for the first mile of the race so did we all.

About a half mile out from the wire, however, Velazquez, who had been holding on tightly to Union Rags urged the colt to get a move on. U R responded and moved up to challenge for third but as the field rounded the last turn towards home, his rush faltered. “He’s done,” I thought, bidding farewell to my wager.  Oh ye of little faith!  No sooner had the pathetic doubt crossed my mind than Velazquez urged his colt forward again.  At the top of the stretch, the big pony’s stride started to lengthen and he gathered speed. Velazquez, continuing his faultless ride and hugging the rail tightly enough to throw sparks, bee lined for the narrow inside gap that Paynter’s jock Mike Smith had left uncovered. The voices of many tens of thousands, mine among them, rose as the two horses closed on the wire. “Get there 3!  Get him home, Johnnie,” I shrieked as the last yards evaporated and Union Rags won by a neck.

My post-race euphoria was tempered by a single thought. No one had had a better but more agonizing Triple Crown experience this spring than Bob Baffert.  Three races covering just shy of 4 miles and he had finished second three times. By a total of perhaps 2 lengths, or 16 feet.  Deprived yet again of the thrill of a singular victor, we were reminded that the contest is the goal.  Churchill Downs, Pimlico and now Belmont had all vividly illustrated the minute difference between champions and also rans.  And what pleasures we were all treated to in the demonstrations.

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