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No, not me (although I did). I'm talking about Smarty Jones!
Saturday, at Belmont Raceway in New York, at about 6:38 pm, Smarty Jones will try to outrun 8 other 3-year old thoroughbreds to become the first Triple Crown (aka Teh Clube ;-) ) winner in 26 years and only the 12th ever (in 130 runnings). In the interest of full disclosure, I should note that Mrs. G bet him in the Derby and I, um, had the fourth place horse B-)
Smarty Jones is a neat story. His owners nearly quit the business after their trainer and his wife were murdered, but decided to keep Smarty and one other horse. They put Smarty in race training and as he was being "schooled" in the starting gate he crashed his head into an uncovered iron rod, causing a skull fracture and dislocating his eyeball from its socket. He very nearly killed himself -- you can still see the depressions in his skull from the accident. 8-! Smarty is a Pennsylvania-bred supposedly without the pedigree to run the *classic* distances. His owner is battling emphysema and his jockey is a recovering alcoholic. Can anybody say Seabiscuit?
So he's 8 for 8 against all comers in all track conditions, (fast, good, sloppy, muddy). Now he has to run 1-1/2 miles to win a $5 million bonus from Visa (he's already won one $5 million bonus) and go down in the history books.
So, fellow Cyburbians: does anybody care? Is horse racing only for fat old men in rumpled clothes smoking cheap cigars and Saudi princes, or does this story resonate a little bit?
Saturday, at Belmont Raceway in New York, at about 6:38 pm, Smarty Jones will try to outrun 8 other 3-year old thoroughbreds to become the first Triple Crown (aka Teh Clube ;-) ) winner in 26 years and only the 12th ever (in 130 runnings). In the interest of full disclosure, I should note that Mrs. G bet him in the Derby and I, um, had the fourth place horse B-)
Smarty Jones is a neat story. His owners nearly quit the business after their trainer and his wife were murdered, but decided to keep Smarty and one other horse. They put Smarty in race training and as he was being "schooled" in the starting gate he crashed his head into an uncovered iron rod, causing a skull fracture and dislocating his eyeball from its socket. He very nearly killed himself -- you can still see the depressions in his skull from the accident. 8-! Smarty is a Pennsylvania-bred supposedly without the pedigree to run the *classic* distances. His owner is battling emphysema and his jockey is a recovering alcoholic. Can anybody say Seabiscuit?
So he's 8 for 8 against all comers in all track conditions, (fast, good, sloppy, muddy). Now he has to run 1-1/2 miles to win a $5 million bonus from Visa (he's already won one $5 million bonus) and go down in the history books.
So, fellow Cyburbians: does anybody care? Is horse racing only for fat old men in rumpled clothes smoking cheap cigars and Saudi princes, or does this story resonate a little bit?