Sometimes You Just Have to Thank the Universe

James Delahooke died Wednesday, and I lost a very special friend. I had the great pleasure of working together with him, especially over the last 15-plus years. Tuesday, we spoke about our Keeneland filly short list, of Chris McGrath's great profile of Bobby Flay's equine program to which he had been a major contributor, and meeting in Lexington on Friday for dinner. Life can pivot from normal to abnormal with a phone call, but our initial meeting is a great reminder of the special goodness that can also randomly present itself.

I was walking through the car park after racing at Royal Ascot almost 40 years ago. There was post-race merriment everywhere, but one group caught my eye. They were bouncing a sock-like ball and using a champagne bottle for a bat, cricket-style. I said, “If you pitch it, American-style, I will drill it over a few rows of cars.” They granted my wish, and I delivered, channeling my best Mike Schmidt and startling a picnic a few rows away. The cricketers were James and Guy Harwood–a few years my seniors–and although we had never met, this random moment proved most serendipitous.

I was invited to stay with them at their house in Newmarket. I felt like I had been invited into the locker room at the Super Bowl. They were at the top of the game, winning Group 1s and buying bloodstock that will remain significant forever. I was mostly an energetic novice, who offered no professional aid. But they were generous with their knowledge, their friends, and their fun.

James was never shy about sharing his opinions (of which there were many) and his passions. His horsemanship is legendary, but he was also effusive in his love of family, the outdoors (especially fishing), food and wine, the arts, history, and the world at large. James and Angie's Cardigan Street, Newmarket table was always the place for interesting company and great food. It has remained my Tattersalls can't-miss spot for decades. When going to England, I could always count on a tip from James about an art exhibit, museum show, new play, or restaurant to add a special event to my trip.

As for the outdoors, many of you know that I didn't share his love of fishing and shooting. He had a yearly timeshare on the Spey and invited me regularly to join him. My response was always to take someone who would appreciate the experience. One year, he declared it was his 60th birthday celebration there, and of course I said I would be there. I arrived into the “fishing cottage” to find a fine manor home with 10 bedrooms and staff. Yes, I tried the fishing but did not get converted. I did enjoy the local golf club a few times with his brother Matt. Of course, the food, drink, and company, including friends from his childhood, were all exceptional.

I will miss him this weekend at Keeneland and on our planned visit to Stone Farm to see our stock. I will miss him next month in Newmarket but will dine with Angie and share some laughs and tears. It will be hard to look at the pedigrees and the horses he helped Bobby and I shape over the last 15 years. But I am glad to have those horses and their pedigrees to remind me for years to come of this very special man and his contributions to my life. I'm really glad I delivered on my promise to park that sock ball in the upper deck.

Love you, James.