Let us take as given that there are some serious problems with horseracing: unscrupulous owners and trainers, doping, horses bred for speed at the expense of overall health, all that. And it is certainly a sport for rich people. All those great stories about a group of friends kicking in a few thousand bucks (pounds, Euro, etc.) apiece to buy a racehorse that subsequently wins The Big Race against colts that sold at auction for millions—these are heart-warming tales, but they capture our collective imagination precisely because they’re so rare.
Of course, it would be difficult to name a sport that isn’t
dominated by the obscenely rich. With
the occasional exception of a team like the publicly-owned Green Bay Packers,
virtually all sports teams are owned by individuals whose net worth is three or
four zeroes more than yours or mine.
And, in this country, one of the premiere sporting events of
the year is the Kentucky Derby. Few
people care about gymnastics, swimming, or figure skating on an ongoing basis,
but Olympics competitions in those sports attract a lot of viewers. Similarly, the nation’s indifference to
horseracing in general disappears, briefly, on the first Saturday in May. Nearly 150,000 fans showed up at Churchill
Downs in Louisville; television viewership numbers haven’t been released as of
this writing, but predictions were in the range of 15 million. That’s a lot of folks. And, all told, a record $168.8 million was bet on this race alone.
Side note: the Kentucky Derby is also special for completely
other reasons to Curmie and Beloved Spouse.
Watching the 1981 Derby from my apartment on the other side of Kentucky
was sort of our first date. We “bet” on Tap
Shoes. He… uh… did not prosper. On the other hand, a year later, on the second
Saturday in May, we were married.
This year, there were lots of potential stories. How would the horses initially trained by the
suspended Bob Baffert fare? Would this
be the year a Japanese horse won the roses?
Would jockey John Velasquez win his fourth Derby? Or would Mike Smith, at 56, become the oldest
ever to win, aboard a horse who’d only run in two previous races (winning them
both, including the Santa Anita Derby)?
Or would Steve Asmussen, the winningest trainer in the country, finally
get a Derby win after 23 losses? And do
I go with the morning line favorite or the post-time favorite?
The answers to the above: not very well, no, no, no, no, and
neither.
Sonny Leon guides Rich Strike to victory |
The horse was listed, probably optimistically, at 80:1. The odds were even that low because there wasn’t
a really clear “super-horse” favorite.
But a late entry without speed racing from the far outside post? A trainer (Eric Reed) and jockey (Sonny Leon)
who had precisely one Grade 1 win and no Kentucky Derby experience
between them? Yeah, 80:1 was probably wishful
thinking.
At the half-mile pole, Rich Strike was well to the back of
the pack, in 18th place, perhaps 10 lengths off
the lead. Even coming into the home
stretch, he was in 13th place, surrounded by other horses, with no apparent chance
of breaking through, no matter how fast he might have been capable of running. Except that he did. Leon, who had never won a Grade 1 race, gave
as masterful a ride as Curmie has ever seen (seriously: check this out)—finding the gaps and shooting his
horse through them. That young man’s
phone IS. GOING. TO. BLOW. UP.
By the time they’re into the final furlong, Rich Strike is
up to fifth and on the rail. Leon guides
him outside to pass a fading horse, then straightens him out and charges
towards the wire. The announcer continues to talk about the battle between morning line favorite Zandon and
post-time favorite Epicenter: “Coming down to the wire, Epicenter and Zandon,
these two, stride for stride!” He doesn’t
even mention Rich Strike until he’s already caught the favorites at the 1/16
pole. Needless to say, that merited an excited
“oh, my goodness!”. And it was a clear
win—no photo finishes, noses, or necks.
Officially, it was ¾ of a length.
Curmie would have said a full length, but he’s not going to quibble.
On the way to the winner’s circle, one of Rich Strike’s
connections is screaming “we shocked the world.” Indeed, you did, sir.
This has to be one of the most memorable horseraces in history. Was there luck involved? Boatloads.
The scratch of Ethereal Road just soon enough to allow another entrant
into the field. And taking nothing away
from Leon’s utterly brilliant ride, sometimes the holes just never appear the
way they did yesterday. But this plucky
colt, his modest Kentucky-based trainer, and a jockey who rode the race of his
life—they deserved the win, however much Steve Asmussen wants to pout. Train your horse better next time, Stevie.
This story has got everything: luck, huge underdogs across
the board, an exciting come-from-behind finish… you name it. So what sports reporter wouldn’t be all over
this? The answer to that question is
apparently “anyone who works for ESPN.”
Seriously. It’s over
18 hours after the conclusion of the race, and what’s on ESPN’s webpage? Gasping coverage of game threes of NBA conference
semifinals, a couple of reports on soccer leagues in foreign countries, NCAA women’s
softball scores, even a story on not-even-close-to-being-a-sport WWE. The biggest horseracing story, at least in
this country, in a decade or more: not a freaking word.
Now, Curmie could understand if ESPN decided that horseracing
isn’t really a sport (WWE is?), or if the downside of the sport makes it ethically
unpalatable (unlike, for example, the clear linkage of football to chronic
traumatic encephalopathy). But pre-race
coverage—which horse to bet on, mostly—is still up.
ESPN has long been known for insufferable announcers. As a college basketball fan, Curmie will
definitely turn off the sound if not the game itself if Dick Vitale or Bill Walton
are within hailing distance of a microphone.
Even Jay Bilas—who, unlike the two just mentioned, actually analyzes the
proceedings instead of spouting idiocies and catch phrases they think are cute—allows
himself to be an accomplice in ESPN’s belief that people tune in to see and
hear “their people” instead of, you know, the game. Curmie can but hope it’s against his will.
And if the front-line announcers are this bad, imagine what
the guys covering the game between the University of Southern North Dakota at
Hoople and Pigeon Puke Ag and Tech are like.
But this is all, of course, a matter of personal opinion. Somewhere, one supposes, there’s someone who
doesn’t work for ESPN who thinks Bill Walton adds to fans’ enjoyment.
Less forgivable was last fall’s airing on their main channel
of what purported to be a high school football game between IMG Academy (a “school”
devoted almost exclusively to athletics) and “Bishop Sycamore” (a school that
doesn’t even exist). Curmie wrote about this incident last September, and the situation kept getting weirder and more sinister
after that. ESPN was unquestionably
complicit, but one could argue that they were simply too fucking lazy to exercise
even cursory oversight of their product.
And what they did wasn’t criminal, right? I mean, yes, they abetted criminality, but
they were too incompetent to know any better, so that’s OK, then.
But now we pass from sloth and logistical ineptitude into
the range of YOU CAN’T CLAIM TO COVER SPORTS IN THE US IF YOU DON’T HAVE AT
LEAST 500 WORDS UP WITHIN A HALF AN HOUR territory. There is literally no excuse for an omission
this egregious. But just as ESPN thinks
they’re more important than the game, they also think it isn’t really worth
covering if they weren’t the ones to do the live coverage. They are as arrogant as they are incompetent,
and that’s saying rather a lot.
Correction: It appears that ESPN did indeed post a story. It didn’t appear on their homepage, and it was not the featured story even on the horse racing page, which you have to search for (there is, however, a direct link to the NBA’s G-League, even though a). they're a minor league, and b), their season has been over for weeks): ESPN pundits’ predictions about the race occupied the featured position until days after the race was over. But there was a story; the link was hard to find (Curmie specifically looked, twice), but it appears it was there. With this minor correction, Curmie’s indignation stands.
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