LIKE A JOYFULLY anticipated guest who greatly overstays his welcome, the rains in Southern California had settled in and were showing no signs of abating. Week after week in the winter of 1978, rain pelted Santa Anita Park, gushing down gutters, flooding pathways, and drowning the track. Adding to the overall gloom was a damp chill that cut through clothes, biting right to the bone.
Laz Barrera had shipped Affirmed to Santa Anita shortly after the Laurel Futurity figuring that he would get his colt away from “that big monster” Alydar. That move would allow the two to prep for the Kentucky Derby on opposite coasts with a full continent between them. But now, as he watched the rain pouring down off the shed row roofs, Barrera was beginning to question the wisdom of shipping to California. When a Louisville turf writer called Barrera’s barn in mid-January to check on Affirmed’s progress, the trainer sighed, “He’s doing well. He hasn’t been training too much because we got rain here for so long and the main track has been most of the time closed.” Though that particular day had been relatively dry, Barrera said it had been raining steadily for twenty-seven days and nights.
As gloomy day gave way to gloomy day, Barrera became increasingly disheartened. His colt was missing out on a lot of training. During the heaviest downpours, Affirmed would spend hours just walking the shed row underneath the overhang. On lighter days, Barrera had him jog around the barn. When the rain would lighten up enough for the track to open, Affirmed was allowed only to take long gallops, his groom greeting him at the end with a handful of towels to dry him off so he wouldn’t catch cold. On the rare dry days when the track condition permitted, Barrera would squeeze in a work between races—something he had never done before. The trainer would often come home at night waterlogged as if he “had been out in the sea.”
Barrera fretted that if it didn’t clear up soon, there wouldn’t be enough time to get his colt ready for the Derby. And hearing about all the good weather in Florida—and Alydar’s speedy progress on the sun-drenched track at Hialeah—didn’t help.
ALYDAR WAS FLOURISHING under the bright Florida sun. After allowing the colt two weeks to rest and recuperate, John Veitch had put him back to work, concentrating first on that pesky lead-change problem. It hadn’t been a major issue in most of the two-year-old competitions, but with increasingly longer races, the colt’s refusal to switch from his left lead to his right was sure to be a handicap—and might even be enough of a problem to give the advantage to Affirmed in the spring classics.
Most horses, like humans, tend to exhibit “handedness” to a greater or lesser degree. Just as people can be left-handed or right-handed, horses will show a preference for the left or right lead almost from the moment they are born. That becomes important in a longer race because the footfalls at the gallop are not symmetrical, and as a result the horse’s body is worked a little differently depending on which lead he is on. When galloping on the left lead, the horse begins each stride with his right hind leg hitting the ground while the other three legs are in the air; the left hind leg lands next, followed by the right front leg, and then the left front leg sweeps through the air and lands, giving the appearance of “leading” the stride. The horse is briefly supported by the left front leg, which then pushes off, giving him a moment of suspension in which no leg is in contact with the ground. This means that the leading foreleg, in this case the left, ends up doing a little more work as it sends the horse airborne. The footfalls of a horse on the right lead are the mirror image of the left.
Horses can arc their bodies slightly in the direction of the lead. So a horse will negotiate left turns more easily while on the left lead—which is why racehorses will always be on the left lead going through the turns. Since the left foreleg is doing a little more work while the horse is on its left lead, jockeys will ask their mounts to pick up the right lead on the straightaway to give that left foreleg a bit of a rest.
Problems can arise when horses feel so much more confident and comfortable on one lead that they will fight to stay on it. Alydar, it turned out, was fonder of the left lead than the right. And while he had been willing to pick up the right lead during gallops and works in the morning, he had stubbornly refused to switch during his races as a two-year-old.
Veitch’s solution was to start every morning during that winter at Hialeah with a session of figure eights at the gallop. The athletic colt had no problem with the exercise and was soon doing lead changes with such elegance and flair that he reminded the trainer of Baryshnikov going through his leaps and spins in a ballet. Veitch eagerly awaited the colt’s next race to see how effective those morning sessions had been.
On February 11, a fit and feisty Alydar entered the starting gate at Hialeah for a seven-furlong allowance race that would serve as a warm-up for his first stakes of the season. He romped home two lengths ahead of seven others, but once again stubbornly refused to switch leads for Jorge Velasquez. It was one thing to offer up that right lead as part of a morning exercise, but quite another for the opinionated colt to deliver it in the heat of battle when competing against others. Veitch was at once soothed by the win but disheartened by the colt’s stubborn refusal to listen to his jockey’s cue to pick up the right lead. He hoped that as the races got longer, Alydar might grow tired on his left lead and pick up the right on his own. After all, Veitch never had a horse that didn’t eventually recognize the benefit of switching in a long race.
With the victory in the allowance race, the next challenge would come on March 4 in the Flamingo Stakes, where Alydar would once again tangle with Believe It, the colt who had trounced him in the Remsen back in November. When the gates banged open, Alydar made his usual slow start, sitting near the back of the eight-horse field, while Believe It grabbed the lead. At the top of the turn, Alydar came alongside Believe It and then, with a powerful surge, flew past him. With every ground-eating stride, Alydar pulled away to win by four and a half lengths in 1:47, just a fifth of a second off the stakes record and two-fifths faster than Seattle Slew had covered the same mile and an eighth the year before.
With his star back in top form, Veitch paused for a few minutes to reflect after the race. “I thought going in we had a better horse than Believe It, and of course I think he’s a better horse now. Affirmed, now that’s a different story. We’ll have to see.” Veitch was hoping that moment wouldn’t be coming soon. “I’d prefer not to meet him until Kentucky,” the trainer said. “It’s not a matter of ducking him. I would rather meet him at a mile and a quarter on the first Saturday in May. It would make a better race for both horses.”
BY MID-FEBRUARY, THE California deluge had finally tapered off and Barrera was able to put his colt back to work. His original plan had been to make the San Vicente Stakes on February 8 Affirmed’s three-year-old debut, but with all the rain, he’d had to give that up and set his sights on a March 8 allowance race.
Though still nervous over being a month behind schedule, Barrera was relieved that he could finally put his master plan in motion. The plan had included importing to the West Coast not only Affirmed but also the colt’s famous jockey. It didn’t take long for Barrera to persuade Steve Cauthen to trade his headlining engagement on New York’s Big Wheel for the California circuit. Shortly after Christmas, the seventeen-year-old jockey moved into an apartment with Larry Barrera, Laz’s eighteen-year-old son and assistant trainer, planning to stay through the winter and spring Derby preps.
The Wolfsons, too, relocated to California, renting an apartment in Beverly Hills. Each morning they would stop by the track to visit with the trainer and to see their colt. The minute Patrice would come into view, Affirmed would turn his head to her, his entire focus on his favorite human being. The colt had developed a kind of tropism for her, leaning in to her just as a flower turns itself toward the sun. If Patrice showed up as Affirmed was being led back to his stall, the colt would pull the lead shank through his groom’s hands to get close to her. Any time she stood next to him, Affirmed would reach his head over to put it in her arms, just as he had that first time as a weanling. Barrera was amused by their relationship. “We’re going to have to put you at the finish line,” the trainer would tell Patrice with a smile. “He’ll run right to you.”
For his first prep race, Affirmed went into the starting gate a little taller and more muscled up than he had been in the fall. Once again, he broke alertly and Cauthen positioned him behind the leader until halfway through the race. In the stretch, the jockey asked Affirmed to move and the colt powered ahead, pulling away to a seven-length lead. But as soon as there were no other horses in sight, Affirmed lost interest and started to loaf despite Cauthen’s urgings, his lead gradually shrinking to four lengths by the end of the 61/2-furlong race. Cauthen was pleased, despite the laziness near the end. He could tell the colt was fit and ready to take on all comers.
As for Barrera, Affirmed’s performance had swept away any lingering worries about the season’s late start. “He’s better now than he was as a two-year-old because he’s matured some and picked up about a hundred pounds,” the trainer said. “We’re right on schedule now.” Still, Barrera wasn’t foolish enough to think his colt was invincible. As he stood by the rail ten days later watching Affirmed gallop the morning of his next race, the San Felipe Handicap, the trainer gave voice to some of his doubts. “He’s a short horse,” he said. “He could get beat today if somebody else becomes a tiger. I’m worried just a little bit. The San Felipe is just a small stroll in the sunshine. I’m looking down the road toward the Kentucky Derby. That is what matters. We’re going to have to fight Alydar again like we did all last year. My horse, he no will meet Alydar before the Derby. But that day we put on the heavy gloves. It will be him and us. Today we lace the gloves up and spar. Later on Affirmed will be ready to say, ‘Grrrr.’ ”
Affirmed looked splendid, coat glistening copper and gold in the California sunshine, as he took his place in the starting gate for the San Felipe. He broke alertly and once again took up a position behind the leader. As the horses hit the first turn, something on the inside, a shadow maybe, caught Affirmed’s eye and he startled and then lugged out to the middle of the track, carrying two others with him. Within seconds he had settled down again, but the outward drift had cost him. He’d dropped to third place behind the two leaders, Tampoy and Chance Dancer. On the backstretch, Chance Dancer took the lead and then pulled away by nearly two lengths. Finally, near the top of the stretch, with Cauthen slapping him a total of ten times with the whip, Affirmed surged on the outside, caught Chance Dancer, and poked his head out in front. Engaged now, Affirmed started to pull away. By the time he hit the wire, he was two lengths ahead. His time for the mile and one-sixteenth wasn’t anything special at 1:42, but he’d shown he could come back from a deficit and win.
Back at the barn later that evening, a happier and more voluble Barrera entertained reporters’ questions as he watched Juan Alaniz cool Affirmed out. “Bring him in,” Barrera told the groom. “But stop him under this big light.” Barrera paused for a moment to allow his visitors to admire the colt. “He’s bright as a shined copper penny,” the trainer beamed. “But when you look at him, you see spun gold. He is a magnificent horse. Smart. Real smart. In the afternoon before he run in the race, he lies down in his stall and sleeps. Only I walk around like a crazy man. Everyone asks, ‘How is the horse?’ I say he is good. Nobody ask, ‘How is the man?’ Me. I am slowly going crazy with worry. I don’t want him to lose. Every morning I come into this barn and I look over all the stakes horses I have. Of forty horses, fifteen are stakes winners in this barn. Who else have that? Nobody. But each morning I go to stall nine and I look in on the spun gold first. I say, ‘You look good, Mr. Gold.’ He don’t say nuthin’. He just look back and laugh at me. He knows he is the gold.”
WITH HIS STRONG finish in the Flamingo, Alydar came into the Florida Derby on April 1 as the clear favorite. Though the colt had sprouted to 16.2 hands, he’d also muscled up so he still had a balanced look, his dark umber coat gleaming in the Southern sun. As the horses approached the starting gate, Alydar was feeling good and was on his toes. Though he usually marched obediently into the gate when asked, this time he balked and the assistant starters had to link arms behind his rump and push him in. But once he had loaded, the colt was ready to go. He broke slowly once again and settled into fourth place, with Believe It behind him. On the far turn, Alydar surged to the lead, and Believe It made his move at the same time. For an instant, Believe It pulled even at the head of the stretch, but Alydar fought back to win by two lengths in 1:47, just one-fifth of a second off the track record for a mile and an eighth. Velasquez was exuberant afterward. “He was pulling me out of the saddle down the backstretch,” the jockey told reporters. “He won with a lot left. He turned it on when I asked him—a very powerful race.”
Alydar’s decisive win in the Florida Derby put him in the spotlight, and convinced many that he would be the one to beat in the Kentucky Derby. “Alydar is a standout right now,” said Woody Stephens, Believe It’s trainer. As for Affirmed, Stephens said, “He’s not going to get nothing. He’s been wintering in California. They had a terrible winter out there, and Barrera had to miss so many days of training with Affirmed. I don’t think California horses compare with these kinds of horses. There have been a couple of horses come out of California and win the Derby, but more horses come out of Hialeah and Gulfstream.” Stephens even went so far as to predict that Affirmed “may get beat” in his race, out in California the next day.
AFFIRMED HAD BEEN training well in the days leading up to the Santa Anita Derby on April 2. But Barrera had a big problem. Cauthen wasn’t going to be able to ride the colt this time. The stewards had suspended him for “not making the proper effort to keep his mount on a straight course” in a race on March 9. He had appealed the five-day suspension and had gotten a stay that allowed him to ride while the ruling was being reviewed. That had allowed him to pilot Affirmed in the San Felipe. But on March 30 the California Horse Racing Board upheld the suspension, which meant Cauthen wouldn’t be able to ride in the much more prestigious Santa Anita Derby.
Barrera needed a jockey fast. As it turned out, both Angel Cordero and Laffit Pincay were available—and their agents were both pushing hard for the mount. Barrera, not wanting to offend either of them, came up with a simple solution: they would decide the matter with a coin flip. He told Pincay’s agent, George O’Bryan, to toss the coin and Cordero’s, Tony Matos, to call it when it was in the air. Matos called “heads.” When the nickel landed, it was tails—which meant that Pincay would get the mount. Matos was furious, even though he had initially agreed to the coin toss. After a heated argument with Barrera, he stormed off. Pincay, however, was elated when his agent told him about the toss. He asked for the lucky nickel to hang on to as a keepsake. He would later have it laminated and stored in a safe to be brought out only on special occasions when he wanted to tell people the story of how he got Affirmed back, if only for one race.
On the day of the Santa Anita Derby, Affirmed was, as always, calm and relaxed. As Pincay rode him out onto the track, he thought that this time the horse was perhaps a little too relaxed, too listless and lethargic to be running a race that day. Pincay turned to the pony boy and warned him to watch out. Then he took his whip and slapped the colt once on the belly. “Just to wake him up,” Pincay explained. The startled colt jumped forward, now much more alert.
Apparently the technique worked. Affirmed shot out of the starting gate just a hair behind the leader. Midway down the backstretch, he surged into the lead and continued to pull away. By the time they crossed under the wire, Affirmed was eight lengths out in front of Balzac, the second-place finisher. Pincay was jubilant. “This horse has every chance to be one of the greats, like Secretariat and Sham,” he told reporters. “A horse this good makes you feel like a really great jockey because they do it all so easily.”
For his part, Barrera was happy that despite the fact that he hadn’t had anywhere near the sixty days he thought would be necessary to train the colt, somehow it had all worked out well. “He’s ready,” the trainer pronounced. “He’s right where I want him to be. I only had forty-five days to get him ready for this race because of the rain, and I was worried about rushing him. But he showed today that he’s the same horse he was as a two-year-old—probably better.”
Barrera had originally planned to ship Affirmed east after the Santa Anita Derby, but by April, he’d changed his mind. The colt’s final race would be the Hollywood Derby on April 16. That decision set the critics wailing. Over the past quarter century, no horse that had prepped only in California had gone on to win the Kentucky Derby, a reporter reminded Barrera. All seven of those who’d started the season in California—including Barrera’s own Bold Forbes—had gotten in at least one East Coast prep race prior to the Derby. Barrera saw the strategy as one that would minimize the amount of time his colt spent traveling. Flying east for the Wood Memorial in New York and then shipping south to Kentucky for the Derby would just be too much. Besides, Barrera said, it was clear that Affirmed liked the Hollywood Park track, having run fast there in the Juvenile the year before.
In the days following the Santa Anita Derby, everything seemed to be going according to plan, with Affirmed continuing his training in the mornings. But on April 8, as the colt finished up his morning gallop, he shied at something. He ducked out from underneath his exercise rider and bolted, tail flagging high in the air, the wrong way down the track. A panic-stricken Barrera took off after the riderless colt, lumbering in Affirmed’s wake until the futility of it all struck him. “All of a sudden,” he later recalled, “an idea goes through my head. ‘You must be crazy,’ my head says, ‘because no fifty-four-year-old man can outrun Affirmed. If you catch Affirmed, you won’t be catching no Affirmed, you’ll be catching a donkey.’ ”
When the colt spotted the gap in the rail, he skittered off the track and down the path to the backside barns. Barrera and a search crew combed the stable area and finally spotted Affirmed at Charlie Whittingham’s barn standing directly in front of Balzac’s stall—staring down the enemy he’d vanquished six days earlier. When Barrera walked up to Affirmed, the colt hung his head. “He knew he had done something wrong,” the trainer recalled. “He was afraid we were going to punish him.”
Throughout the winter and early spring, the Wolfsons had been reviewing tapes of Alydar’s races. The colt’s powerful drives to the finish line made Patrice a little nervous, though she wasn’t letting on to the press. When reporters asked her what she’d learned from the tapes, she shot back, “He can run.” Barrera, however, said he hadn’t watched a single one of Alydar’s races either on TV or on tape. “I saw enough of him last year,” the trainer cracked. “I have to worry about my horse. Horses are like women. You have to worry about your wife. You can’t worry about someone else’s wife.”
For all the worry Affirmed put Barrera through on the day of the escape, there wasn’t even a scratch on the colt. On the morning of the Hollywood Derby, he was his usual mellow self. Barrera was starting to show some wear, but that didn’t stop him from holding forth on the intensifying rivalry. Standing outside his stable office that morning, he told reporters, “I hate the word great. Everything must be great these days. Great, great, great! If a man walks down the road with a pumpkin and you stop him and say, ‘That’s a good-looking pumpkin you have,’ he’ll get mad at you. But if you say, ‘What a great pumpkin you have there,’ he’ll stop and talk. I don’t think there are too many great pumpkins and there are damned few great racehorses. But let me say this: Alydar is a great racehorse. Affirmed? He is far and away the smartest horse I have ever trained. The first time I saw him, I didn’t look to see how big he was or how good-looking he was. My eyes went to his eyes and I said, ‘There is something about you that I do not understand. You’re smart.’ I wasn’t wrong, either.”
Barrera knew that Affirmed’s intelligence might be the one thing that could lead to the colt’s undoing. Most of the time Affirmed would push himself only when he could see his rival up close, refusing to waste energy running fast when there was no one to challenge him. Once he had passed all the other horses in a race, he’d start to ease off and loaf. Barrera was afraid that the colt’s loafing might leave him prey to sneak attacks like the one practiced by Alydar and Velasquez in the Champagne. When it came time to give Cauthen his final instructions for the Hollywood, Barrera told his jockey to keep the colt focused. The trainer was hoping that Cauthen would keep Affirmed in high gear even after they’d left their rivals behind. “Don’t take no chances,” Barrera said. “Go to the lead and don’t let nobody get ahead. Use the whip. Don’t let him start fooling around when he get the lead.”
Cauthen followed Barrera’s directions to the letter. Affirmed sprang out of the gate immediately in front of Radar Ahead. The two colts ran head-to-head for the first six furlongs, with sizzling fractions: the first quarter in 222/5 seconds, the half in 45 flat, and three quarters in 1:092/5. The first three furlongs were so fast that Radar Ahead’s jockey, fearing both colts would run out of steam before the end of the race, yelled over to Cauthen, “We still got a long way to go.” The speed proved too much for Radar Ahead, who started to drop back as they went into the far turn. Driving around the turn, Affirmed opened up the lead by a length, which turned to two lengths in the stretch. He’d run a mile in 1:35. With no rivals in sight and another eighth of a mile to go, Affirmed started to slow down, even though Cauthen hit him a dozen times, just as Barrera had instructed. Though Affirmed won the race by a length and a half, he had slowed so much in the stretch that his final furlong clocked at a sluggish 131/5.
At the postrace press conference, Cauthen talked about the colt’s disposition and his need for company to make him run—and his unwillingness to speed up when there wasn’t any competition, whip or no whip. “When he’s hooking a horse, you don’t have to hit him; he fights back then,” the jockey said. “But when he’s in front by himself, he sort of eases himself up. Beating the heck out of him doesn’t do much good.” Barrera defended his jockey, telling reporters that Cauthen had used the whip precisely as instructed. “I know what kind of horse I’ve got,” the trainer said when asked why Cauthen had continued to hit Affirmed even after they’d taken the lead. “We didn’t want to get into any trouble. We didn’t want anyone to get close to us.”
Affirmed and his team were now ready to head to Churchill Downs for the biggest challenge of the colt’s life. On the Saturday after the Hollywood, Affirmed loaded up on a plane bound for Kentucky. It would give Barrera two weeks to get his colt adjusted to the new surroundings and the Derby track.
AFTER ALYDAR’S WIN in the Florida Derby, Veitch had to decide which race would be the colt’s final Kentucky Derby prep. While the Wood Memorial at Aqueduct on April 22 had some advantages, he was leaning toward running in the Blue Grass Stakes at Keeneland Race Course on April 27 even though that was just nine days before the Derby. “It will be springtime in Kentucky, and there will be grass for him to eat,” he reasoned. “In climate, it will be more similar for him at Churchill Downs.”
More important to Veitch, however, was the proximity of the Blue Grass Stakes to Calumet Farm. By this time, both Lucille and the Admiral were in their eighties, frail and crippled by arthritis, relying on wheelchairs to get around. They hadn’t been able to attend any of Alydar’s races and had been relegated to catching them either on the radio or on TV. At Keeneland, though, the Markeys might have a chance to actually watch the race in person. The track’s staff had offered to cordon off an area near the rail, about halfway down the stretch, so the Markeys could be driven there and watch the race from the comfort of a car.
Veitch decided Alydar should ship to Keeneland right away so that the colt would have a chance to acclimate to the weather and the track. Both felt at home, just a few miles down the road from Calumet. Veitch would visit the colt often during the day. Sometimes he’d just lean back against a post near Alydar’s stall, taking the colt in, wondering what it was that made this horse so special, what gave him such a will to win. Over the years, Veitch had seen his share of well-conformed colts that just didn’t have the heart to go into battle and claw their way to victory. This colt had something special, something you didn’t often see in a racehorse, no matter how well-bred he was or how well put together. Maybe it was the colt’s macho personality. Though Alydar knew his name and would often come to his door to beg for a lump of sugar, he wasn’t a pet. He wouldn’t tolerate people hugging him or hanging on him in any way. He would run anyone who tried that out of his stall. Veitch would sometimes describe him simply as “all horse.”
One night, as the day of the Blue Grass drew near, Veitch stopped by the barn for his 8 P.M. check. The evenings had been chilly, so the trainer had opted to put a night blanket on Alydar to keep him warm. When Veitch looked in the stall, he saw that the colt was resting, eyes closed. Noticing that Alydar’s blanket had slipped a little to one side, Veitch opened the stall’s lower door, ducked under the webbing, and walked over to the colt’s flank to pull the blanket straight. He had barely touched Alydar when the colt startled awake, let both hind hooves fly, and then wheeled around, lunging at the trainer with teeth bared. Veitch dove under the webbing and escaped, heart racing but uninjured. As the trainer leaned on the barn wall, catching his breath, Alydar poked his head over the webbing. Recognizing Veitch, Alydar—the attack already forgotten—was now asking for a lump of sugar.
As Veitch’s thumping heart slowed down, he reviewed what had just happened. The colt had probably been sound asleep when the trainer ducked into the stall. His touch had awakened Alydar, and the colt immediately had gone into defensive mode without checking first to see what was there. “That was my fault,” Veitch thought. “I was stupid. I should have gotten the night watchman to come in and hold his head while I straightened out the blanket.” The trainer straightened up and walked over to the colt, pulling a sugar cube out of his pocket. He opened his palm, and Alydar took the cube gratefully. All was right with his world once again.
On the day of the Blue Grass, Keeneland officials contacted the Markeys and asked if they would like to come and watch the race in person. When the couple said yes, a car was sent to Calumet to collect them.
At the track, the driver pulled the car across the clubhouse lawn and angled it alongside the rail. Once it was parked, a few feet off the rail, the Markeys eased themselves out of their seats—just in time to see Alydar coming up in the post parade. Velasquez steered Alydar over to where the Markeys were standing next to the rail, she in a dark purple dress with white gloves covering her hands and wrists, he in an ascot, a tan jacket, and a brown houndstooth ivy cap.
As Velasquez pulled the colt up to a stop, a delighted Lucille, peering through thick glasses, whispered excitedly to her husband, “I can see him! I can see him!”
“Hello, Jorge,” the Admiral said.
“Hello, Admiral and My Lady,” Velasquez answered. “How do you feel?”
Without waiting for a response, the jockey continued: “Here’s your baby. Don’t he look pretty?”
“He looks wonderful,” the Admiral said. “So do you, Jorge.”
With that, Velasquez turned his mount back to the post parade and headed over to the starting gate. When the bell rang, Alydar stood flat-footed for a split second, then broke slowly, falling into eighth place with just one horse behind him. On the backstretch, Raymond Earl opened up a five-length lead, while Alydar moved up into fifth. When they hit the turn, Velasquez asked Alydar to kick into high gear, and the colt surged past the others and came up to challenge the leader. With a quarter mile to go, Alydar flew to the front and opened up a six-length lead, speeding ahead as if the others were moving in slow motion behind him.
As the big colt thundered past the Markeys, his lead widening with every stride, Lucille started pounding a white-gloved fist in the air, yelling, “Come on! Come on, Alydar!” When he flew across the finish line a whopping thirteen lengths in front, Lucille brought her hand down over her mouth for a second and then, as it dropped under her chin, she turned to the Admiral with a huge smile, the emotion so strong that she couldn’t utter a word.
After the trophy was presented to Veitch in the winner’s circle, it was brought to the Markeys’ car and handed to Lucille. On the ride home to Calumet, she grasped the gold cup tightly in one hand while clasping her husband’s hand in the other.
As the Markeys were excitedly savoring the win on the way home, Velasquez was putting it into perspective for reporters. “We are ready now for the big Run for the Roses,” he proclaimed. A reporter asked him if Alydar was “the best one” of all the Derby hopefuls the jockey had ever ridden. “One, two, and three,” Velasquez shot back. “But he’s not the champion yet. He’s got to beat Affirmed. And that’s not easy.”