Insightful Look at Derby After a Barnstorming Tour

A colleague and I were talking quietly outside Halory Hunter’s barn two hours before the Kentucky Derby on Saturday when one of his security guards asked us to leave.

“The horse is getting nervous,” he said.

If Halory Hunter is nervous about two people having a conversation outside his barn, my colleague said to me, how’s he going to react at the track when confronted with the Louisville Cardinal marching band, Charlsie Cantey and her pony and more than 143,000 spectators?

That doesn’t mean the crowd is ill-behaved, just loud. In fact, police reported a mere 53 arrests Saturday, most for public intoxication.

One teenager was so drunk he couldn’t negotiate his way out of a portable toilet. As an emergency crew labored diligently on the door with a crowbar and an ax, a crowd gathered and began to chant, “Let my people go.”

I feared the worst for Halory Hunter.

But when I looked back over my shoulder, the horse was so relaxed that I thought he might be dozing. I realized it was the security guards who were nervous.

We arrived a couple of minutes later at trainer Bob Baffert’s barn, where nothing was real quiet except for the name of the horse that was about to win the race.

As post time approached, Real Quiet’s more highly regarded stablemate, Indian Charlie, was led out of the barn, followed by an entourage almost as large and colorful as the one that used to attend Louisville’s most famous native, Muhammad Ali.

Indian Charlie’s entourage included Indian Charlie, a.k.a Ed Musselman, the author of an acerbic tipsheet that circulates on Churchill Downs’ backside and the man for whom Baffert named the horse.

Next out of the barn came Real Quiet, who, according to Baffert, is a “beautiful horse from the side” but has a narrow face with bulging eyes that makes him look like a fish from the front.

Hence, his nickname, The Fish.

Real Quiet is accustomed to derision. In a now famous exchange, when Baffert called owner Mike Pegram to say he had bought the horse at a yearling sale for only $17,000, Pegram said, “What’s wrong with him? Does he have cancer?”

For bettors, Real Quiet wasn’t the way to go, someone explained to me, because of his poor breeding.

But the more I heard, the more I realized there were reasons not to bet any of the horses.

Indian Charlie was the favorite, which virtually eliminated him because no favorite has won since Spectacular Bid in 1979.

The second favorite, Favorite Trick, last year became the first 2-year-old since Secretariat to win the Eclipse Award as horse of the year. But he had the misfortune of winning the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile last fall at Hollywood Park, and no winner of that race has ever gone on to win the Derby.

He also has a new trainer this year, Bill Mott, whose most famous horse was Cigar. But Mott’s only previous Derby starter had finished 13th.

If you wanted to bet trainers, Wayne Lukas seemed safe with Cape Town. Lukas has won three Derbies, and, before Baffert came along to win three of the last four Triple Crown races, Lukas had won six in a row.

He invariably has good young horses, and if you’re looking for a tip for next year’s Derby, consider that two of his current ones, Yes It’s True and Tactical Cat, finished 1-2 in Saturday’s race at Churchill Downs for promising 2-year-olds.

Lukas attracted controversy last week for suggesting owners Madeleine Paulson and Jenny Craig had no business entering their horse, Rock And Roll, in the Derby.

The Louisville Courier-Journal pointed out the irony, considering that Lukas himself was criticized last year for entering Deeds Not Words, a horse that didn’t belong and proved it by finishing last.

The newspaper also mentioned Lukas’ sexism, based on his remark that Paulson and Craig decided to go to the Derby because they’d found matching hats on Rodeo Drive.

My complaint with Lukas is that he still hasn’t named a horse, as promised, for my late predecessor in this space, Allan Malamud.

If Indian Charlie has a champion 3-year-old named for him, so should Mud.

As he was led out of Baffert’s barn and toward his date with destiny, Real Quiet, with almost no entourage, could have been mistaken for one of the ponies accompanying Derby contenders to the track.

He was calm, even when the crowd on the backside squealed at the sight of Jack Nicholson, who, wearing one of his “Wait Till They Get a Load of Me” smiles, walked to the track with Rock And Roll.

When their paths crossed, Real Quiet stopped to let Rock And Roll pass first. The latest Derby champion might not be well bred, but he is real polite.