Derby Wrap Up

Leaving the Derby is an exceptionally complicated process, where you're hearded like cattle onto a bus. It took forever, and in the end the clever gambit with parking the car at the end of the parking lot didn't do anything but make us walk a long way.

My favorite in the Derby, successful came in dead last, and Pyro, my mom's favorite who I'd put extra money on, came in 9th. None of us in our group picked Big Brown (save the knowledgable grandfather who'd asked us to pick him), who won handily.

Sadly Eight Bells was the only success in our group, picked by both my father and father-in-law, as well as one of the guys with us. We watched the equine ambulance speed past us to the end of the turn. Rumors flew around the boxes that the horse that was down was Eight Bells, and then rumors began circulating that she had already been put down. They had a big tarp up shielding whatever they were doing from view. My brother-in-law saw the Eight Bells jockey breaking the news to the owner's wife there on the track in front of where we were.

Ironic that despite the fact we were there we had to call out to people watching on tv to get the details. Last we heard was she suffered a heart attack, after which her two front legs broke. That poor horse.

Despite the pall put on the crowd by Eight Bells' collapse, it was a great day at the Derby. And we only ended the day about $5 down....as long as you don't factor in the cost of mint julips.
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