By Chris McGrath
A house divided against itself cannot stand. We have all sensed that, surely, in this time of more or less ungrudging solidarity with the wider world. For the rest of our lives, however, we'd be very grateful if the first Saturday in May can mean exactly what it has reliably meant before today.
In recent weeks, we've all been buying into the idea of sacrifice for the greater good. In the process, we've been reminded how precious are those routines and rituals, such as Derby day, we previously took for granted. What we must recognize now is that these will themselves be best preserved by the same selfless spirit that prompted their suspension.
From the outset, for instance, the very notion of staging the GI Kentucky Derby behind closed doors May 2 clearly struck its hosts as an unpalatable sacrifice. As things have turned out, it wouldn't have been possible anyway. But just lobbing a grenade into the rest of the calendar–the postponement to Sept. 5 appearing entirely heedless of others with stewardship of historic races–was a pretty unpromising start, in terms of the industry uniting in its collective interests. It was, in short, the work of a house divided.
Sure, Churchill faced a lose-lose situation. But welcome to Planet Earth, 2020. Lose-lose is the name of the game for our species right now. And our response, among individuals and leaders alike, is measuring quite a spectrum.
Thanks to Oaklawn Park, where a sense of continuity and heritage is rendered flesh-and-blood in the surname of its president, the 2017 foal crop does have a Grade I opportunity on the first Saturday in May. Yes, they had to tweak their own legacy, moving the Arkansas Derby from its traditional April date. But this is just the most luminous example of how Oaklawn, even with its casino funds running dry, stepped up to the plate during the meet that ends today.
The industry's debt also extends, naturally, to those other venues that have kept some kind of show on the road. Having often expressed due gratitude to Oaklawn, however, I hope they won't mind me remarking that a horse race divided against itself is also liable to lose its footing.
The very concept of splitting a Grade I race goes against logic. These are supposed to be elite prizes, hard to win, and if you haven't established adequate credentials to make the cut, that's tough. Yes, sometimes you might find yourself eliminating a potential winner; even a potential champion. (Very possibly a consideration in this instance.) And nobody could complain, in the circumstances, if a division made business sense in terms of handle and so on.
But if your only purpose was a substitute 'Kentucky Derby'–and perhaps a winner more eligible for historic comparison than some late-maturing animal in September–then really there could be no argument about it. A single $750,000 race, contested by the 14 most accomplished entries, would be a closer fit than what has turned into two $500,000 races with nine runners apiece (pending any additional scratchings).
Things might have been different had Oaklawn's enterprise been duly rewarded by 28 authentic Classic types clamouring for a gate, but the likes of Tiz The Law (Constitution) and Sole Volante (Karakontie {Jpn}) were known to be regrouping for September. As it is, following serial defections from an entry that only ever had marginal claims to split, Oaklawn finds itself ill-served for indulging those who urged a division.
Moreover, there's an unhappy imbalance between the fields, the first being dignified by just two stakes placings this year. Perhaps, in future, protocols for the division of big races could incorporate an element of seeding. Is there any good reason why equal portions of each field couldn't be drawn from pools grouped according to some acceptable gauge of merit?
Conceivably, the 'lose-lose' scenario at Churchill may yet extend to locked turnstiles Sept. 5. In the meantime, however, they stand to gain as much as anyone from today's division, with the respective winners only likely to meet under the Twin Spires. To be fair, I guess that would ultimately represent just the right kind of communal boon for our sport during a window of opportunity that remains closed, for instance, to baseball.
So maybe those who know Victor Martinez only as a Major League all-star will become engaged by his new sporting dream, as owner of GII Tampa Bay Derby stunner King Guillermo (Uncle Mo).
However startling his breakout success, this colt does look a legitimate talent. Yes, Sole Volante is easily pardoned defeat that day, given how the race set up; in fact, he'd have had a perfect platform, in this brisk-looking field, to pounce for his revenge. In his absence, King Guillermo could well pick up the pieces should Wells Bayou (Lookin At Lucky) and Nadal (Blame) go out there and break each other's heads.
Perhaps, however, Nadal will sensibly be asked to demonstrate a little flexibility today. Meanwhile his barnmate Charlatan (Speightstown) finds himself in the lighter heat, and blessed with the rail. So there's a limit to what we can learn, after twice depending on the clock to corroborate his flamboyance in thrashing a total of seven rivals. But Gouverneur Morris (Constitution) represents a new challenge, after a useful learning experience in the GI Florida Derby; while Anneau d'Or (Medaglia d'Oro) and Basin (Liam's Map) could yet stoke the embers of their juvenile fire.
Whatever happens, let's enjoy a 'Derby day' we're unlikely to forget. Thank you, Mr. Cella, for laying it on. A pity that the division has backfired: Oaklawn deserved better. But we're going to see some terrific sport, and will end the day with renewed ardour for the resumption of the way of life we love. As and when we finally get back to the racetrack, however, let's not check our altruism at the door.
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