This Side Up: The Tough Get Going

I'm pinning my faith in Happy Jack. Not to win, obviously, even after a Derby so outlandish that it still confounds the handicapper's genius for rationalizing the most unaccountable events with the invincible benefit of hindsight. As a Calumet homebred by Oxbow, however, you can certainly envisage this fellow proceeding to the GI Belmont S. and so ensuring that at least one horse has contested each leg of the Triple Crown–which would, dismally, be one more than was managed last year even by a crop containing Oxbow's outstanding son to date, who has meanwhile confirmed toughness to be his genetic trademark.

Of course, those of us outraged by renewed proposals to desecrate the Triple Crown heritage will be hoping, far ahead of Happy Jack, either to see Epicenter (Not This Time) show that he has soaked up his remarkably generous exertions in the Derby; or Secret Oath (Arrogate) make it equally plain that this kind of Classic schedule remains within the compass even of modern Thoroughbreds, if only they are bred and/or trained the right way.

As things stand, it feels an affront to both these splendid creatures that their showdown on Saturday, one wholly worthy of the 147th GI Preakness S., should have been so unceremoniously displaced from the top of the week's news agenda. Regardless of whether Rich Strike (Keen Ice) can ever again remotely approach what he did at Churchill, a single, freakish performance should not qualify him, overnight, to subvert the legacy of so many generations of horsemen.

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In fairness, it's not as though his connections set out to start some national debate. They just made a decision about their own horse, and what they figured might work best for him. True, if weighing their decision on bigger scales, they might perhaps have been a little more cognisant of the broader responsibilities–to their sport, with a rare opportunity of engaging the attention of the world beyond–that arguably accompany such a literally fantastic gift from the racing gods. As it is, we have to conclude that they were concentrating on one horse, standing there in his stall. And that's absolutely their prerogative.

But when other people start using that decision as a pretext to review the whole future of the Triple Crown, then you have to ask yourself whether the challenge to all logic, when Rich Strike suddenly materialized along that rail at Churchill, has incidentally prompted us to discard all sanity as well. Because while Eric Reed and Rick Dawson certainly had a pretty interesting start to their month, I am not sure how far they have advanced up the line of horsemen eligible to turn so much of our history on its head.

Sure, there are a whole bunch of other Derby participants sitting out the Preakness. By this stage, however, that feels wholly consistent with the prejudices of modern trainers, in either observing or merely perceiving some inadequacy in the kind of animals we're breeding today. Some of these guys are either automatons themselves, or think that their horses are. As with every question asked by a Thoroughbred, targets should be determined by the flesh-and-blood differences between individuals–and not reduced to a formula, according to the number a horse might have run, or the date on a calendar.

What a drab convention of the faint-hearted, if the schedulers were to yield meekly to such timidity! Thank goodness for D. Wayne Lukas, who has reliably redeemed both the caliber and the narrative of this race. The real torment–for those grateful to him for this, the latest of so many services to our sport–is that we might actually have had a filly on the Triple Crown trail but for the ride that blunted her blade when she tested the Derby waters.

As I've remarked before, the Triple Crown schedule doesn't just maintain the historic integrity of the way we measure the breed. It's how horsemen of the past keep us honest. And while this may not be the most truthful age in the story of civilisation, we have no excuse for lowering our own standards when our livelihoods depend upon a creature as transparent and trusting as the Thoroughbred.

Which, as it happens, is exactly why we can't let training be all about pharmacy–and why people also have to be honest about why they might be trying to emasculate the policing of medication. There's a virtuous circle here. For one thing, a horse is never going to be in greater need of time between races than when a rival has called on artificial reserves. Conversely, it's the horse bred and raised and trained with a clean conscience that will ultimately give us a genetic package worth replicating.

And that conscience comes into play long before the appointment of a scrupulous trainer. It is also required of those whose spending and/or advice at ringside currently, somehow, makes commercial poison of the most wholesome paternity. Calumet may have let a Derby winner slip through their grasp but at least they are prepared to stand against the tide. And that's another reason to hope that Happy Jack can disclose something of the quality that for now remains no more evident than it was in Rich Strike this time two weeks ago.

Kenny McPeek | Coady

This, after all, is an unpredictable game. Who could have imagined that Kenny McPeek, having last winter looked as though he might come up with a Derby trifecta of his own, would roll up here with none of those horses–instead buying a $150,000 wild card for a horse that won, you guessed it, two weeks ago at Churchill?

Obviously Creative Minister (Creative Cause) is unlikely to have endured as taxing a race then as the three who do accompany him here from the Derby. As such, he arrives as a kind of compromise between those making a quick turnaround and the ambush party headed by Early Voting (Gun Runner). Whether that proves the best or worst of both worlds remains to be seen, but I do know one thing. We gain nothing by trying to make things “easier”. In the old axiom, it's when the going gets tough that the tough get going. We need to find out who those horses are, and reward the horsemen who produce them.

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This Side Up: Don’t Make Them Like That Anymore

Well, I guess it's precisely because the protagonists aren't used to the limelight that everybody has so enjoyed their arrival at center stage. But they have quickly learned that once there, with everyone hanging on your every word, you had better know your script.

In the excitement of his success, under one of the most remarkable rides in GI Kentucky Derby history, connections of Rich Strike (Keen Ice) told everyone that they had the previous morning been reconciled to instead contesting the GIII Peter Pan S. at Belmont this weekend. But they are now claiming that they were actually targeting the GI Preakness S.–and that spacing out his races was always their priority.

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Their strategies and pretexts for ultimately missing the Preakness are entirely their own business. Nonetheless it's vexing that those who want to spread out the Triple Crown series, having been effectively muted by American Pharoah and Justify, now feel emboldened to put their heads back over the parapet. Colleague Bill Finley masterfully disposed of this myopic and really rather decadent lobby in Friday's edition, and I would merely add that the Rich Strike decision is particularly disappointing in view of the miles he has on the clock. Because however little else he brought to the Derby, he did have more “bottom” (eight starts) than any other runner bar the obvious herbivore Tiz the Bomb (Hit It a Bomb) (nine).

By modern standards, runner-up Epicenter (Not This Time) had also laid fairly solid foundations, especially compared with the raw Zandon (Upstart) who seemed to hit a wall after the race had set up perfectly. True, he graduated from a race that nowadays serves the prejudices of modern trainers to the extent of granting them an extra week, but remember the GII Louisiana Derby also trades that concession for extra distance. The race produced four of the first six past the post last year, and once again it has proved a major bonus to have run a mile and three-sixteenths before the first Saturday in May.

Rich Strike was nowhere near the Derby's hot pace | Coady

Epicenter's perseverance, after contributing to the pace meltdown, indicates courage as exceptional as talent. Whether he can himself absorb such an exacting effort inside two weeks remains to be seen. Here, after all my complaints about the two-dimensional nature of the modern Derby, was a horse ideally equipped to boss the kind of procession we have seen so often since the points system eliminated sprint speed–only to hit the first pace implosion since Orb in 2013 (paradoxically, the first year of gate points).

Be all that as it may, we can't pretend that Rich Strike would have been an especially obvious fancy had he instead rolled up for the Peter Pan. Just try to restore his spectral presence, from that parallel world he fleetingly inhabited eight days ago, into the field that does assemble at Belmont on Saturday–potentially, in some cases, with a view to instead beating him back at the same track next month. Really, the exercise doesn't feel so different from the moment he suddenly appeared along the rail at Churchill: the ghost runner, the puzzling silks in the post parade, the impostor who seemed merely a ceremonial, three-dimensional representation of the horse scratched by D. Wayne Lukas.

So much for my hunch that the Coach might yet have a say in the Derby, despite having reserved what may yet prove the best sophomore of the crop to the company of her own sex. In the event, it became a tale of two substitutes, his brilliant filly's proxy Ethereal Road (Quality Road) crucially ceding his spot to this interloper.

Nobody in the modern era has put more “bottom” into a horse than Lukas, and the taxing race she endured under a fairly witless ride in that GI Arkansas Derby experiment not only set up Secret Oath (Arrogate) to dominate a vintage field for the GI Longines Kentucky Oaks but will also, surely, steel her for her imminent next encounter with colts.

The 2022 Kentucky Derby winner | Coady

The defection from that showdown of a fairytale Derby winner does deprive our sport of an opportunity to redeem much of the public distaste we have collectively invited over the past two or three years. The Preakness had offered to bring together two very different phoenixes: one rising from the pyre of age and fashion, his genius gleaming bright as ever; the other literally from the flames, an inferno having consumed 23 horses in as harrowing a nightmare as any horseman could imagine.

But the Rich Strike team are clearly going to follow their own narrative. Everybody else presumed that he didn't really belong in the Derby; and now they have decided, contrary to the outside consensus, that he doesn't belong in the Preakness. Again, it's their prerogative to do as they please. But the Triple Crown gods had cast them in pretty compelling roles, and I'm not sure anyone should want to start meddling with a plot of such momentum and coherence. They can flatter themselves that he was only primed to seize his moment last weekend because of their own calculation, but they do have to credit somebody up there with an assist.

Everything we do with horses, of course, combines luck as well as judgement. That's certainly true of breeding, and it may be no more than a striking coincidence that both Secret Oath and Rich Strike appear to have hewn their physical competence for the Classics, these most demanding examinations of the adolescent Thoroughbred, from genetic foundations assembled with an exceptional eye on reinforcement.

Secret Oath is pegged down at every corner by the great Aspidistra. Damsire Quiet American is famously inbred as close as 3×2 to Aspidistra's son Dr. Fager, in both cases moreover through a mating with a daughter of another matriarch in Cequillo. Secret Oath's second dam is by Great Above, a son of Aspidistra's Hall of Fame daughter Ta Wee. And Arrogate's grandsire Unbridled also brings in Aspidistra, as fourth dam; besides being (like Quiet American) a son of Fappiano, himself out of a Dr. Fager mare.

As we discussed in Tuesday's edition, Rich Strike's pedigree is also conspicuous for doubling down on venerable influences. His sire is a grandson of his own damsire, Smart Strike, while his third dam is by a full-brother to Smart Strike's sire Mr. Prospector. Keen Ice himself, meanwhile, duplicates the broodmare sire legend Deputy Minister 3×3. And his fourth dam Chic Shirine is by Mr. Prospector.

Keen Ice at Calumet | Sarah Andrew

Keen Ice's family–tracing to the 1962 Epsom Oaks winner Monade (Fr), imported by King Ranch–was developed through five generations by Emory Hamilton. We would have no Rich Strike, then, without the parallel human and equine dynasties going through her mother Helen Groves, that wonderfully vital connection to the Old West whose unique spark was finally extinguished this week at 94. They simply don't make them like “Helenita” anymore. In fact, I'm not sure they can have done previously, either.

I doubt that the fearless cowgirl would be terribly impressed by anyone turning down the opportunity to emulate Assault, who won the Triple Crown for King Ranch in 1946. She never forgot that Preakness Ball, full of demobbed servicemen and an infectious optimism, as a 19-year-old college student.

Assault, incidentally, won the Dwyer S. two weeks after the Belmont. That was his sixth win in nine weeks. (Nothing compared to Citation, of course, who two years later also landed the Triple Crown in winning 19 of 20 sophomore starts.) Sadly, infertility prevented Assault passing on that constitution, but that's what we're looking for in Triple Crown horses, and that's why it is set up as it is. It's how their predecessors keep the horsemen of today honest.

Last year not one horse lined up for all three legs. That may reflect on modern breeding, or merely the perceptions of modern trainers. Either way, it's obvious what needs reform–and, even more obviously, it isn't the Triple Crown.

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