Chris McGrath

With commercial sires nowadays represented by such enormous cavalries, it's unsurprising that they should encounter random statistical clusters. These tend to even themselves out, so that a stallion that "hits form" with a sudden spate of stakes performers will also endure barren spells that naturally receive rather less attention. What every farm covets, then, is for a horse to get on a roll while there are still mares out there with mating decisions pending for this spring--and there's no better way to do that than making some noise on the...

I must admit that this whole business of getting wiser as you get older is giving me a little trouble. Somehow I only seem able to nail one half of the deal-albeit, so far as that goes, I'm definitely making rapid, daily progress.

The world we share with these amazing animals may be an ever-changing one, but its mysteries abide. We consider ourselves ever more knowledgeable, ever more certain, riding the slipstream of science. Yet how much do we truly know, when Afternoon Deelites holds out for all those years and then waits just six days before following his owner to whatever shore may (or may not) lie beyond the horizon of life?

In an era when it appears that no horse can run twice under the same moon, once again we're going to have plenty of relatively unexposed animals converging on the GI Kentucky Derby. That requires us to fall back on some secondary evidence, in pedigree and upbringing, to estimate what latent resources may be summoned to deal with the startling novelty of a 20-horse stampede. That's why the handicapping jury should heed the defense attorney for Litigate (Blame), despite a pedestrian 77 Beyer in the GIII Sam F. Davis S....

How apt that one of Burt Bacharach's very first hits was The Story Of My Life. Because reading the tributes prompted by his loss a couple of days ago, it turns out that his music was pretty well a soundtrack to the lives of millions who--especially in the Sixties, an era of profound societal tension between materialism and idealism--wanted assurance that the essential bonds of humanity still united them all. He transcended those divisions much as he did musical genres, knowing that the middle-aged hosts of suburban cocktail parties and...

It tells you plenty about the business today that this final leg of our quest for value on Kentucky farms should compress together stallions whose various retirements from the racetrack spanned more than decade. In devoting nearly all the previous instalments to individual classes of younger stallions, we've simply mirrored the distribution of mares, which as we all know is massively loaded towards largely unproven sires. To me, then, those few survivors that do establish a viable niche in the Bluegrass are real heroes. While dozens of their original competitors...

No matter where you start from, the choice on Saturday is the same for everyone: do you head southeast, or Southwest? Okay, if you happen to be in Key West, you'll uniquely have to head a little way north to join the party in Miami. For many of us, however, the compass needle will instead be quivering towards to the GIII Southwest S.

And so we come to the abyss: that giddy phase between launching your first juveniles and being able to claim a viable niche in this most unforgiving of marketplaces. Yes, for those few young stallions that do manage to seize their fleeting opportunity, a narrow path can rise rapidly towards lucrative heights. Most of the others, however, find themselves clinging to a crumbling ledge. Whatever you do, don't look down! It's easy to disparage the robotic tendencies of the commercial market. Too easy, certainly, for me to have neglected the...

And so we begin anew. The GIII Lecomte S. always warms the heart: it's like noticing the first buds on the bare trees, as the quiet midwinter promise--familiar, expected, miraculous--of another spring to come.

And so we begin anew. The GIII Lecomte S. always warms the heart: it's like noticing the first buds on the bare trees, as the quiet midwinter promise--familiar, expected, miraculous--of another spring to come. In trees, each new cycle is nourished by past decay: by roots extending into soil enriched by the leaves discarded at the end of the previous one. And actually it's not dissimilar with selective breeding, so that each generation can recycle its speed, stamina, beauty, bravery. The world may be a very different place, on and...

Today we finally come to a group that has at least had some initial opportunity to show whether or not they can replicate their own racing prowess. By the same token, of course, this means that their level of support--which in many cases will already have declined through each preceding year, as racetrack exposure draws perilously closer--may now fall off a cliff. If the stampede to unproven sires is ludicrous, then so is the haste with which they are abandoned. Stallions whose stock should plainly be granted time to mature...

No getting away from it, the young stallions we assess today have already completed their service to many breeders. They've processed a debut crop of yearlings, often on an industrial scale, and many have obliged with the kind of averages that vindicate the familiar, self-fulfilling commercial cycle that so favors new sires: demand generating supply, and the quality incidental to that increased supply in turn increasing demand. That leaves us with another tricky podium. You can't just congratulate those who have "won" on this system, topping out the first-crop yearling...