There you are. Sitting atop some platform. In front of a laptop. What do you do? You watch these yearlings saunter into the ring with eyes as big as the baseballs and listen to auctioneer Walt Robertson hibbity bibbity.
And watch as the Fasig-Tipton boys do a Howard Dean "Yyyyyyeah!" when an A.P. Indy goes for $4.2 million. Here’s a made up quote that you will hear in more or less the same for every seven-figure sale, “Striking, just a striking colt with the conformation to go short or go long. He really has the makings of a classic contender.” Uh, huh. Wait till he bucks a shin and goes out drinking a few times with the Green Monkey.
I can’t imagine what the mainstream fan must think of the sales. Actually, he probably doesn’t even know they exist and that’s probably just as well. Here are some headlines:
DISTORTED HUMOR COLD LEADS KEENELAND SESSION
BERNARDINI COLT SELLS FOR $800,000
GIANT’S CAUSEWAY COLT SELS FOR $950,000
The only thing more boring than the sales would be a silent movie on a blank screen.
Hooters gets away with objectifying women and serving bad food and they are a multi-million dollar enterprise. I demand more objectifying! More objectifying! Why can’t women parade around the ring with a card above their head broadcasting the following hip like the next round in boxing? Hibbity bibbity.
And can I get a free drink? There’s no greater gamble than buying a racehorse so it would behoove Fasig-Tipton to get these bidders loose with their trigger fingers. Works for me in the sports book.
It makes my mind wander. I mean, do you think the horse who played Secretariat in the new movie, aptly titled “Secretariat,” is afraid of being typecast? He could play Curlin or Summer Bird in “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.” I’ll get on that screenplay as soon as one of my many unpublished manuscripts hits the BIG TIME. Stay tuned. And, yes, hold your breath, I gotta feeling ...
That horse is like Will Smith playing Muhammad Ali, Denzel Washington playing Hurricane Carter, and Richard Harris playing Marcus Aurelius.
“You’re failure as a man, was my failure as a ... father,” said Aurelius to his weak-hearted son. Didn't he pen a letter to his son touting the virtues of being a man, essentially comparing him to Maxiumus?
I can picture D. Wayne Lukas writing a letter to Mine That Bird about the few virtues of being a racehorse: courage, class, dignity, speed, talent. And then Mine That Bird approaches him and says, “I knew I had none of them. But I do have courage, maybe not courage on the racetrack, but there are many forms of courage. A low center of gravity ... for when I get kicked I will rarely topple. A good sense of self ... followed swiftly by a strong sense of humor.”
Then Mine That Bird smothers D. Wayne and banishes Dublin to be one with the Visigoths.
(This, herein, makes the assumption, based on the story of "Gladiator" that Dublin would bring revenge and triumph back to his name. This is just plain silly.)
Brock Sheridan at The Brock Talk asks the question as to whether Mine That Bird can even make a stab at a comeback. The answer is no, he can’t. What’s sadder? A Derby winner aching to get his first win since a Saturday in May or the persistent efforts for one last photograph?
Maybe all he needs is a little Churchill and a dash of Calvin Borel — the two ingredients that won him his last and best race. Hey, this horse only sold for $9,000 at auction.
Hibbity bibbity.
Brendan O’Meara blogs about horse racing here at HRI and at The Carryover. He also blogs about narrative nonfiction and his book project Six Weeks in Saratoga and The Last Championship at The Blog Itself where he tirelessly awaits a willing publisher. Follow him on Twitter @BrendanOMeara. His Web site is http://www.brendanomeara.com.
15 Sep 2010 at 09:32 am | #
Before they start piling on and crucifying you, congratulations for another great column. The summer Gladiator came out, I saw it about 10 times by mistake because I would start to see another film and realize it was terrible compared to seeing Gladiator again.
Sort of like having to have a real job compared to going to the races everyday.
15 Sep 2010 at 09:45 am | #
My question is were you drinking when you wrote this?
If so, good job! Keep that mind wandering.
JP
15 Sep 2010 at 02:22 pm | #
Nice commentary. Have just cracked a Schlitz, having just cashed a $60 exacta in a five horse field with JR and Ramon up. Like stealing!
Just who has been and is still making the only serious money in Thoroughbred racing, other than the owners of the horses trained by Pletcher, Asmussen, and a handful of other trainers? Breeders, of course; who control just about every aspect of Thoroughbred racing, and who don’t purchase the Daily Racing Form (right, Mr. Crist?).
I find it amusing, for decades, that all racing publications, from the Form to Bloodhorse, keep informing its readers about the sales of thoroughbreds at these sales. Like I give a hoot? Like they give a hoot about me!
Purchasing a thoroughbred via bloodlines is a crap shoot. As to Mine That Bird, Giacomo, Super Saver, and numerous other Derby winners, hey, the owners got their money. What did we get?
Don’t feel sorry for, was it Coldmore (or some stable similar in name) that paid $16-mil for Green Monkey; they got to depreciate there $16-million over three years against income earned.
Time for another Schlitz.
15 Sep 2010 at 06:48 pm | #
Thanks, ace. Gladiator is an epic flick. I get chills every time I see Maximus turn and face Commodus in the Colosseum, “My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius. General of the Northern Armies. Father to a murdered son. Husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.”
JRP, my editor and mentor, I may have been having a Saranac Octoberfest, and if so, it was only one. That’s all it takes. Sometimes you just find a way to get it done and hope the wound clots neatly. Maybe another ...
Wendell, for once we’re in accordance! We hate the sales! At least Giacomo won another race after the Derby. By the way, I can smell the Schlitz from here.
B