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Breeder’s Cup is My Favorite Holiday

As I write this we are well into the holidays. For most people, the holiday season begins with Halloween in October. (Obviously this does not include Lowes, Home Depot or Costco, all of which start displaying Halloween stuff in August, and Christmas stuff in October, if not earlier.)

For me, the holidays are ushered in by the Breeder’s Cup World Championships, which is held yearly the first weekend in November. (A bonus for me is that it is conveniently close to Halloween; the only traditional holiday I enjoy.)

The Breeder’s Cup is comprised of 14 races held over two days and attracts the best Thoroughbred race horses from around the world. This year was 40^th Breeder’s Cup World Championships of was held at Santa Anita Race on November 3 and 4.

Of course I was there. This was at least the 19^th Breeder’s Cup I’ve attended.

I lose track of the exact number I’ve been to, which may be why this year one of the main sponsors was Pevagen, was perfect marketing. Prevagen is said to boost mental acuity while aging. Sadly to those of us who love it, horse racing’s main demographic is getting older by the minute.

Still if you ask a true racetracker who won the fifth Big Cap at Santa Anita, they will know immediately. Of course, there is a good change that they will also forget where they parked their car. Prevagen for everyone!

A group of my friends and I have gone to the last 15 Breeder’s Cups together. Breeder’s Cup shifts venues between the Kentucky and California. In the early years it Texas and New York were also part of the mix, but the weather in November at those locations was problem. This means we have been lucky enough to go to Churchill Downs and Keeneland in Kentucky several times as well as Del Mar and Santa Anita.

When we travel, we make a vacation of it. Last year BC was in Keeneland, and we took almost a week. We flew into Cincinnati, in theory, so we could get a direct flight from LA. In reality, it was so I could go to the Cincinnati Zoo and see the hippo bloat.

Fiona the hippo. I watched her and her bloat for hours.

I couldn’t be that close and not visit Fiona! I was in heaven. The other ladies were pretty charmed. Really.

After the zoo closed we drove to our rental house in Lexington and spent the next three days visiting as many breeding farms as we could. We also went to the early morning works, which is always one of my favorite things to do. The first year we went to Kentucky, it was like herding cats to get everyone up and out at 4:30 am.

Not anymore.

There is something magical about arriving at the track before the sun comes up and standing so close to the rail that the earth moves when the horses run by. Watching the works also provides a close up view of the horses, riders and trainers that are competing.

It’s a piece of heaven for me.

If we didn’t attend morning works we wouldn’t know that Aiden O’Brien always has his charges out at the same time, and they enter, work and leave the track in rigid and precise formation. They remind me of the Madeline stories. (“…Lived 12 little girls/ In two straight lines…”)

We wouldn’t have met Harley the gigantic appaloosa pony horse, as well as multiple other equine superstars. We probably wouldn’t have chatted with Bob Baffert and Donna Barton. We have gone to parties in Lexington and had the opportunity to chat with past and present heroes of racing. We danced in the streets of Lexington at street parties.

We had fun.

Everything (except perhaps meeting Champion Beholder at Spendthrift Farms) is just a lead up to the racing days. Friday is billed as the future of racing, and all of the Breeder’s Cup races feature the juveniles. Saturday is for the superstars of horse racing. The Dirt and Turf Sprints, the Miles, the Distaff (always in my opinion the best race of the series) and of course, the Classic.

Even before the first horse steps on the track, the site – it doesn’t matter which venue it is – is dressed up. Santa Anita is my stomping grounds and when it hosts Breeder’s Cup I can get lost. The place is decked out like a prom.

There are garlands of purple and yellow flowers, the Breeder’s Cup colors, everywhere. From the Grandstands, to the walking ring to the observation decks it’s a sea of purple and yellow. Even the Sally, the draft horse whose job it is to ferry stewards to their observations posts, has purple and yellow ribbons in her mane.

Sally is decked out in Breeder’s Cup colors and logos.

There are a ton of places designed to be featured in Instagram posts. There is a champagne lounge, several places to sip bourbon (Woodward Reserve or Makers Mark) and high and low end eating opportunities. There are at least three enormous merchandise tents stuffed with t-shirts, sweatshirts, drinkware and branded luxury items including Burbour , Lululemon as well as gold and diamond jewelry.

It’s enough to make your head spin. Most attendees take it seriously too. A lot of men come in their best bespoke suits and the women pull out their fancy dresses and jewelry. The hats would do Ascot, or a royal wedding, proud.

There are a fair share of dudes wearing their best bro clothes and gals dressed to catch or keep the attention of rich men. Those girls are the ones that after the second 12-hour day of walking on concrete, limp home in Breeder’s Cup branded flip-flops while clutching their stilettos.

All of that is fun, but the horses! The racing!

At best I’m a mediocre handicapper, but Breeder’s Cup races are tough for even the professionals. These horses are the best of the best. Even the horses with the longest odds are better than most Grade I runners.

This year the racing was spectacular. Even the best story of the week, Cody’s Wish who should be Horse of the Year, didn’t disappoint.

Cody’s Wish was named after a profoundly disabled child, Cody Dorman. Dorman was visiting the farm when the horse was a foal.

There was an immediate boy between the boy and the colt. Instead of being fearful of the little boy in a wheelchair, Cody’s Wish came right up to him and stuck his face in the kid’s lap and nuzzled him.

The farm honored the child with his name and the family became regulars when they could watch Cody’s Wish run.

Cody Dorman and his parents were in the Winner’s Circle at Keeneland last year when Cody’s Wish won the Dirt Mile. They were back this year when the horse battled to defend his title, winning by a neck. It was a spectacular race, and even the most hardened viewers choked up when Cody’s parents rolled his wheelchair up to the horse in the winner’s circle.

Cody Dorman passed away only two days later. I am positive he waited until after the Breeder’s Cup.

The Distaff was fantastic. Randomized broke in front and held the lead, but Idiomatic stuck to her hip like glue. When they hit the final stretch Florent Geroux opened Idiomatic up, and she and Randomized dueled all the way down the stretch only to cross the line almost in tandem. Spectacular racing.

The Classic is marquee race of the Breeder’s Cup but it lost a little luster this year when Archangelo, the winner of the Belmont Stakes, and the favorite, scratched on Tuesday due to heat in his foot. This left the field pretty open, with Arabian Knight and White Abarrio the co-favorites.

White Abarrio won with a calm and calculated ride by Irad Ortiz, Jr. The horse was trained by Rick Dutrow in his first year back after a 10 year suspension for drugging horses. I like the horse a lot, but call me cynical; his improvement was remarkable and possibly miraculous since he changed trainers in the spring. I have strong thoughts about Rick Dutrow, but I will keep them to myself.

The Classic was not the last Breeder’s Cup race of the day since organizers had to keep the TV audience in the East in mind. The last two are the Turf Sprint and the Sprint which were also superior racing.

And then it was over. There was a palpable air of sadness that it was over; after all, we had ordered our tickets in March.

Next year it is in Del Mar. Which means I need to get busy finding a rental soon.

In the meantime, for those of you who celebrate, Happy Holidays!

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I’ve Forgotten How To Behave In Public

Los Angeles, where I live, is starting to open up a bit! Yay! On top of that, I’m vaccinated! Double yay!

I’ve come to the conclusion, that as much as I have supported the closures and definitely kept up pretty strict protocols for the safety of myself and others, this couldn’t have happened a moment too soon. I fear that I forgotten how to behave in public.

I’m not quite at the completely inappropriate stage yet – I’ve yet to mouth off at idiot strangers , but a few more months of quarantine and all bets would be off. Especially at the chin maskers.

The first time I entered a Target store in more than a year, I walked around with my mouth gaping (but covered.) I felt like a refugee from a Third World country. So many products! So bright! I was in sensory overload and wandered around for an hour before leaving without buying a single thing.

I personally don’t care that Dodger Stadium is allowing fans inside, and I’m not really ready to hit a movie theater, but I was giddy to head to Santa Anita. The track opened to the public for the first time in over a year on two weeks ago on Friday. The next day was the Santa Anita Derby.

Naturally, I went.

Because of the social distancing and capacity rules – it was only open to 25% capacity – reservations were required and My friends and I reserved a table in the usually hoity-toity Terrace Turf Club.

Well, la de da, you might be thinking. Maybe not.

At least temporarily, Santa Anita has dumped the dress code requirements for the Turf Club, so we were free to wear anything our hearts desired. Since this was practically my first foray out of the house, I decided to up my game. A bit.

I dumped my tired jeans, trashed sneakers and ratty Breeder’s sweatshirt and instead pulled out black pants, a nice sweater and Doc Martins. I felt like I was dressed for the Met Gala.

In normal days a snooty ,old and male maître di would have led us to the cloth covered table with decent china, fresh menus and crisp Racing Programs. This time, a bored, masked teenager pointed us vaguely in the right direction and wished us luck. Ordering would be done via an app.

It should have been smooth as silk. We only needed to download the app to access the food and beverage menu, and then take a photo of the QR code glued on the table so the server would know where to deliver the items. It was simple. Not quite.

Santa Anita has notoriously bad cell service, particularly when there are crowds. The overwhelming comment during most Breeder’s Cup events is “can you get service?” The answer is always “no.”

It took us the better part of a half hour, working two phones with different carriers before we could download the app and order our now badly-needed drinks. Finally we got confirmation that the order had gone through. Success!

It was finally time to focus and get down to the business at hand. Horses were coming onto the track for the second race. Unfortunately, programs, like the china, silverware, napkins and menus, were missing. So was the incredibly helpful person who usually floated around giving betting information and handing out extra programs.

No worries. I figured, the maître de would have a pile of them. Nope.

The only place to get programs was back at the admission gate.

I’m glad I didn’t go for the Met Gala stiletto heels. (That’s a joke. I don’t own any. But plenty of people were tottering around on them.) I jogged back to the entrance, grabbed three programs and ran to the Turf Club.

I got back just in time to get to the betting windows, exchange pleasantries with one of my favorite tellers and place my first losing bet. We were both so relieved that we were back after a year’s absence he didn’t give me a hard time about my picks. In retrospect, I wish he had.

Back at the table, I squished past the people in the next table – six feet apart my ass! and settled in.

Gone were TV’s on every table of the Turf Club that broadcast not only the Santa Anita races, but the Saddling Barn, the Walking Ring and many other tracks. Which is how the Wood Memorial, an important Derby Prep race running in Aqueduct was almost half over before we realized that it was being shown on the infield Jumbotron.

No wonder the man in the next table was so grumpy when I blocked his view as I pushed past him to my chair.

Oops.

After the Wood concluded, (whoopie Bourbonic!) a masked server brought our bottle of Procecco and three glasses. In an attempt to be attractive, the disposable glasses were tall and had slightly rounded bottoms. This might have worked if they were made of hefty glass, giving. It didn’t work so well with plastic.

Remember those children’s toys, Weebles? (“Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down!”) Except these glasses fell down really easily, sending alcohol everywhere.

Almost before the server had disappeared, taking extra napkins with her, the first glass tipped over. Okay, somebody accidentally hit it with an elbow. Turf Club tables are pretty small. They are especially tiny when crowded with programs, Racing Forms, eye glasses, bottles and drinking glasses.

We mopped up the mess, carefully drying what we hoped would be winning tickets. (They weren’t.)

It wasn’t long before another full glass hit the deck. And then another. The good news is that with the spectacle we were making, the people in the table next to us moved as far away from us as they could. Social distancing achieved!

I’m not sure how I became the designated bettor, but I was the one who kept running back and forth to the ticket window, clutching everyone’s money and scribbled notes. Most of the time I did it correctly. In my defense the two times I screwed up someone’s bet (wrong horse, wrong placement) the mistake came in, so everyone was happy.

We were pretty careful about masking. The Turf Terrace is outside, but when we weren’t drinking or eating, we masked up.

Expect for that one time I ran to the window moments before post time. It wasn’t until I returned and sat back down at the table, that I realized I’d forgotten my mask. I was mortified. And yes, the next time I bet, I tipped my friend the teller well.

Being back at Santa Anita was so incredibly comfortable and at the same time, completely weird.

We even found our car in the gargantuan parking lot immediately. A first for Derby Day.

That’s why it kind of made sense that a guy on a motorized skateboard wearing a jet pack passed us as we drove home.

LA is getting back to normal. Thank god.

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Man Makes Plans, the Universe Laughs

My favorite saying, because it’s true, is ‘man plans and the universe laughs.’ (My second favorite is courtesy of my Papa Harry, “Everyone in the world is crazy except you and me, and I’m not so sure about you.”) But I digress.

The first was made clear this past weekend. Most people have favorite sporting events, the World Series, the FIFA World Cup, or the Olympics. The day after the Super Bowl, the US practically comes to a standstill because so many people call in sick with hangovers.

For me, the event of the year is the Breeder’s Cup. The Breeder’s Cup has been around now for 36 years. I’ve watched and/or been to the last 20 years. It’s two days and 14 races of absolutely spectacular competition. It’s the best of the best from all over the world.

Over the last decade, six of my friends, all women who I’ve ridden with, so they pass the crazy test, have watched or gone with me. We’ve gone to Churchill Downs, where I cried when Zenyatta lost to the aptly named Blame in her second Classic, to Del Mar, and always to Santa Anita. When we couldn’t travel (Kenneland you were too damned expensive) we watched at whoever’s place had the best TV.

When it’s possible, I go watch the horses work in the mornings at least twice. I pretend it’s to watch and size up the visiting horses, but it’s more than that. It’s amazing. Disneyland for horse people.

This year I really needed some fun. Two weeks prior was my screwed up trip home, and on Monday morning as I was driving to the works at 5AM I heard about the Getty Fire. Wednesday, I got up to go, turned on the television and there was helicopter filming a fire surrounding the stable where I board Mickey. Okay, they were zooming in on the Reagan Library. That matters to me not at all, but at the base of the Library’s hill is my heart and soul – Lavender Creek Ranch, and it was literally surrounded by fire. Circled.

I ended up hitching up my trailer and helped evacuate some of the 1000 horses nearby. (My barn didn’t need my help. They make the Army look unorganized.) I’ve been in a lot of active fires, but this was among the worst. Eventually all of the horses, even those that were let loose to flee from active fire, were saved. A few goats and pigs weren’t.

When the Ventura County Sherriff’s’ Department sent us all home, I collapsed and called my mom. Her ancient little dog, Monty, who lives with me often, had gone missing the night before. As we were talking they found his body.

Good times. Not.

So I really needed some fun. Luckily, it was Breeder’s Cup 2019.

I had the weekend planned down to the moment. Friday, is the shorter program, with a handful of decent stakes on the undercard, and home to the Future Stars races: the Juveniles. It was a glorious day at the track, and I even won a little (very little) money.

Everything was set for the next day. The whole card was fantastic, but the race I was looking forward to the most was The Mile. It was set for the 6^th. One of my favorite horses, Omaha Beach, was going out as the odds-on favorite.

On Day Two, because racing starts earlier and lasts later, I decided to bring Jasper to Kathy’s homes to play with her dog, Damali, while we were gone. The dogs have known each other all lives and play together often. I hadn’t left Jasper there in almost a year, but he’d visited there just two weeks ago when we were evacuated. (See my disastrous trip to New England.)

The yard where we left them has a ten-foot wall, and we opened the guest house so they could get away from the sun. There were three or four buckets of water, since Jasper likes to stand in it, and Dalmali follows his lead. It was kind of a spa day for dogs. Or so we thought.

The dogs were the farthest things from my mind as we made our way to the Santa Anita betting windows for the first race at 11. I placed my bets and noticed that Kathy was on the phone, and Lise was quietly calling my name.

“Ah, Sharon,” she said in her best super-calm therapist’s voice. “Kathy’s neighbor just called. Jasper is loose and is running around the neighborhood. They can’t catch him.”

It took me a moment to process, but then we running through the parking lot. As we ran to the car (Kathy, poor thing was dressed for the day in heels and a big beautiful hat. I was in combat boots and a dress).

I heard her say to her phone. “His name is Jasper. He’s’ big but very friendly. Don’t chase him.”

It’s important to note that her street is just off a major cross street – Laurel Canyon Blvd. And Jasper had gone around the block, with several people in tow at least once.

I am very good in crisis. It’s later I fall apart. Instead of blacking out at the thought that Jasper Johns was running into traffic trailing a bunch of well-meaning people, I stepped on the gas. Hard.

We made it back to Kathy’s place in Studio City in less than 20 minutes. It’s usually about 35 minutes and change from Arcadia.

During that time I was calm. Kathy was not, and for some reason kept apologizing. It most obviously was not her fault. We were trying to figure out how he got out. The only thing I could imagine was that he climbed on top of a garbage can and jumped over the gate. It kind of seemed plausible.

Nope.

As we flew down the exit ramp to her house Kathy spoke to her neighbor again. Apparently Jasper ran back to her house, with the Good Samaritans following. Then he slithered under the gate. Like a snake.

The space between the gate and the driveway is less than five inches. Jasper is a full-grown, 135+ pound Great Dane. Okay then.

I started to laugh manically as we shoved them in the guesthouse. Jasper was shaking a bit, but otherwise thrilled we’d come back. We literally locked the door to the guesthouse with the dogs inside, and booked it back to the track to try and see the 6^th.

I predicted that we’d be pulling into the parking lot as the 6^th went off. It was one of the few things I got right that day. But Kathy got the race on her phone, and just as I parked, we watched , Omaha Beach fail to rally and lose.

The whole trip took about an hour. We missed three races. I had a couple of bourbons, maybe more. It helped.

Planning is overrated.