If you turned on the television today, or logged on to the internet, or went to the store to buy some pineapples, you already know that a horse with a misspelled name won Belmont Stakes, and as a result the Triple Crown. In the process, the horse with the misspelled name became the first Triple Crown winner in 37 years.
This is all very exciting for owner of American Pharoah, an obscenely rich Egyptian man named Ahmed Zayat, and the trainer, a probably-also-wealthy man named Bob Baffert, and a very diminutive Mexican man named Victor Espinoza who thoroughly rode the horse around the track as best he could. And of course, none of this would have been possible without the super awesome horse sperm that MADE Pharoah because, well, isn’t that kind of what horse racing is all about? Horse sperm?
Consider me jaded or loutish or an unsophisticated moron, but I guess I don’t get horse racing. It seems that the truest champions are the folks who study animal husbandry and horse-breeding and genetics; the people who actually make a Triple Crown winner are the people who pick which two horses need to be fucking each other. They study sperm and look at slides in laboratories and at the end of the day, they high five each other and say, “man, I’m glad we made that one particular horse fuck that other horse. Let’s go celebrate at Chili’s. The Awesome Blossom is on me.”
Baffert and Zayat pose with trophy, enjoy being rich
And maybe that’s selling the whole enterprise short. If so, I apologize. I mean, the really rich Egyptian guy had to earn all of that money to pay those genetics analysts, right? And the trainer had to work with the horse on how to run really fast in a circle and not stop to “mosey” or look for carrots on the infield grass or whatever. And the very small jockey had to watch his chicken finger intake, lest he be too fat to sit on the horse in an adequate manner.
Perhaps I’m just being unnecessarily harsh. I’m not rich enough to buy a horse or “breeding rights” or whatever it is Zayat did. I never worked at a stable, so I can’t shit on Baffert’s horse whispering skills. And unlike Espinoza, I’m entirely too large to lead a racehorse to victory.
But if we’re being TOTALLY honest, I think horse-racing is even less of an accomplishment than car-racing, and motor sports make me dumb with disinterest. At least in NASCAR, some dudes have to build and maintain the car, and another guy uses real skill to maneuver it and drive it properly around other cars while going very fast for a very long period of time. There’s a distinct human element that extends beyond “small guy with whip sitting on horse’s back” and the ultimate goal aside from winning is “don’t drive into the wall and die.”
I mean, the horse is a pawn, right? He’s insanely oblivious to his success. If he wins, he gets to eat like, better oats and fuck only the hottest fillies, and if he loses, he ends up hanging out in a field staring at the clouds. (And if he injures himself, well, is that thing about “glue factories” true?)
Anyway, congrats to American Pharoah, a horse who achieved horseracing’s greatest accomplishment today without even knowing what the fuck was going on.
As opposed to the, for example, NBA?
I will never forget the time that one really tall guy got that pass and jumped into the air and dunked it.
Seabiscuit is a great movie, watch it, now.
I was at a birthday party yesterday for a friend of mine when they went off at Belmont. When that big boy thundered around that final turn, the bar erupted into a cacophony of screams, whistles and broken glass as tables overturned, booze was spilled and, for a moment, we all agreed on just one thing, that fu*kin horse just had to win!
Me, I think if his name was just Pharaoh, spelled correctly, then the air is once again, deflated out of the ball. But he wasn’t, he was AMERICAN PHAROAH and no one thought he could win. A living neologistic slap in the face to the experts who said it would never happen again. They got Pharoahed.
Considering the source I am guessing in that bar he was referred to as ‘Merican Pharoah.
Somewhere in the world, a Monarch Butterfly, flaps its gums and another Bowe Bergdahl is released into the loving arms of our President. We are all thankful for the Butterflies who Stand On That Wall flapping their gums.
lefty, of course you’re being facetious, but…. jeez…. where to start… well, for one thing, the horse DOES know what the ‘f is going on. oh, not that he knows he won the first Triple Crown in 37 years, but he knows he accomplished something because he beat the sh*t outta those other horses running after him. horse pride.
and I know you must know that jockeys just don’t sit there holding on for dear life. case in point, victor eff’ed up a couple of years ago when trying for a Triple Crown bid. forgot the horse’s name, but bad start, and a bad ride doomed him. contrast that with steve cauthen’s ride on Affirmed. barely hanging on to the lead, Alydar so close, down the stretch, cauthen switches his whip to his right hand. something he never did. Affirmed takes off, pulls away and wins the race. it is a well-known unreported fact that Affirmed was pissed as hell for that little trick and when pretending to nuzzle up to cauthen, bit him on the ear.
yeah, maybe I’m selling the jockey short (HAAA!), but come on, miket– “horse pride?”
ok… i was reaching. too late to take it back, huh?
nah. it was funny. you’re fine.
ok… not to uh beat a dead horse, or engage in a bunch of horses**t…. this from USA Today. seriously, I’d read something like this before:
“This is mostly conjecture on my part, but I think that in the same way some horses like to be dominant in a herd, and be more dominant, say, in getting the feed when it’s given, I believe some horses also want to beat other horses in a racing scenario,” said Camie Heleski, the coordinator of the horse management program at Michigan State University.
Specifically in the case of American Pharoah, said Jenifer Nadeau, an associate professor of equine science at the University of Connecticut, he seems to not only be competitive but also dislikes getting dirt on his face. After a muddy Preakness, she points out, he was the only one with no mud at all on his face. “His instinct is to just try to win,” she said.
Kerry Thomas, the founder of of THT Bloodstock, Equine Athletic Psychology said that American Pharoah will definitely know that something big is going on and want to win — or in his mind be ahead and the dominant horse in what he sees as the herd.
“He’ll look at it as the individual competition he won’t put the body of work together but he will feel like he’s in the right place in his herd dynamics, controlling the herd, having control and influence over [the other horses],” he said.
When horses are in the middle of a race, they’re likely viewing it as being part of a herd of horses in motion and it’s in their natural instinct to run, whether it’s on a racetrack or just when they’re let out into pasture. “Even in that at-liberty situation, they will often run (and run fast) and there are always a few that try just a little harder to be out front when they do group gallops,” said Heleski.
After the race, while the horses might not grasp the excitement of winning the Triple Crown or even just the Derby and Preakness, they do know that people around them are excited — or sad said Nadeau. “They take a lot from how the people around them are reacting because they are sensitive,” she said. “That’s the thing about horses they do read people’s body’s language.”
Thomas thinks they also might feel dejection or pride at their performance, even if it doesn’t linger. “He’ll look at it like ‘I did my thing,” he said. “I do think horses get demoralized if they don’t win or are beaten down by another horse.”
Beating up on the sport of kings? I guess I could expect this from you Lefty since you have probably never been to a horse track in your life.
I would rather spend a day at the track (without alcohol even) than be forced to sit through a horrible ‘Murican Football game any day of the week.
You’re insane, Dude. And you’re right– I’ve never been to the track. I’ve also never smashed my balls with a hammer, but I don’t need to in order to know I don’t like it. But hey, man, whatever floats your boat!
But, but your personal hero Bukowski loved horse racing.
I just can’t tell you how honest this piece is and how much I loved it!
Thanks for doing it, yet again, Lefty.
Thanks, PWKC. I appreciate that.
again…a foreigner wins an American classic.
watched the spelling bee….two Indian ancestrals won it. One from Olathe.
Americans no longer rule the world!
I am about 20 IQ points dumber after reading your idiotic post.
Jesus you are stupid.