Desormeaux’s Long Ride Brings Him to Winner’s Circle

When Kent Desormeaux launched his career in Maryland, most people who watched him ride expected that he would one day win the Kentucky Derby. But neither his admirers nor the jockey himself could have imagined what a circuitous, agonizing route he would take to reach the winner’s circle at Churchill Downs.

Between his phenomenal performance as a teen-ager and his victory with Real Quiet in the Derby, Desormeaux’s fortunes had soared and then plummeted. His erratic riding had alienated trainers and enraged bettors. His self-confidence eroded. But he started to make a professional comeback last summer, and with his triumph on Real Quiet, he is back on top of the racing world again. And all of this has happened to him by the age of 28.

The native of Louisiana’s Cajun country arrived in Maryland in 1987 as an apprentice jockey and quickly began to dominate racing in the state. He possessed not only the physical strength and enthusiasm that come naturally with youth, but also a sense of tactics as keen as any veteran rider. During Desormeaux’s first year in Maryland I wrote: “Watching the 17-year-old at this stage of his career is a bit like having a chance to see Bobby Orr in Junior-A hockey in Canada or Larry Bird on the playgrounds of French Lick, Ind.”

After he won a record 598 races in 1989, Desormeaux had accomplished all that he could in Maryland, and he set out for California. Competing against America’s best jockey colony, he honed his skills further, and before the end of 1990 he had won his first riding title at a California race meeting.

Sometimes his skills seemed uncanny. At the 1993 Del Mar meeting, front-runners had won most of the races on opening day. In the next day’s first race, Desormeaux was riding a speedster named Astrometric Star who was breaking from post one -- seemingly an optimal spot. Yet he put his mount under restraint, dropped back, swung to the outside, circled the field and won. By the end of the day it was evident that the rail was deep and tiring, and that the best way to win was with an outside move, yet Desormeaux had somehow sensed this before the first race. Day after day, his judgment and execution were flawless. Competing against great riders such as Gary Stevens and Chris McCarron, he dominated races in California just as he had done in Maryland. Considering his youth, he seemed destined to become the most successful jockey of all time.

Instead, Desormeaux’s riding deteriorated. Once an unrelenting competitor, he would give up on horses when he concluded he couldn’t win, often sacrificing a chance to finish second or third. He made inexplicable tactical moves. As his riding changed, so did his personality: His self-confidence turned into arrogance. “You didn’t bother to give Kent instructions before a race,” said Jeff Siegel, co-manager of the Team Valor racing stable, “because you knew he wouldn’t listen.”

In other young athletes, erratic performance is often the result of drug use or wild living, but in Desormeaux’s case, it was all a matter of attitude. “I became a little too big for my britches,” Desormeaux admitted. “I didn’t need anybody to tell me anything. It was simply immaturity. When I wasn’t riding horses all the way to the wire, I forgot about the public. And I had forgotten that we need trainers (and their support.)”

Desormeaux alienated trainers who had been his principal clients. Richard Mandella, operator of one of California’s most powerful stables, gave up on the jockey after he committed several several costly gaffes. Aboard Kotashaan in the Japan Cup, Desormeaux misjudged the finish line, stopped riding for six crucial strides and cost his mount a victory in one of the world’s richest races.

By 1996 Desormeaux’s name had dropped toward the bottom of the top 10 in the jockey standings at most California race meets. He fired his longtime agent, Gene Short, who had been with him since the early days in Louisiana, but he eventually realized that his problems were of his own making.

“When I went from leading rider to falling off the end of the map,” he said, “that was a slap in the face. I began to realize I’m not as good as I thought I was. I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere till I realized who was putting me here. The trainers here can choose from 10 other riders who aren’t going to mess up a race.”

In early 1997, Desormeaux started making a conscious effort to reverse his fortunes. “I was trying desperately for months to prove myself,” he said, “and I was giving 110 percent -- to no avail.” One prominent trainer finally granted him a fresh start. Bob Baffert told Desormeaux the thyngs he expected of him -- riding every horse to the finish line, for example -- but the easygoing, wisecracking trainer did it in a way that established a rapport with his jock. “He gave me brotherly, friendly criticism,” Desormeaux said. “He had a perfect way of coming across, and I heard him loud and clear. I worked my tail off.” Baffert recognized the effort: “He showed me he wanted to be No. 1 again.”

Baffert had revved up his whole stable for the 1997 Del Mar meeting, and Desormeaux rode the wave of his success. He shot to No. 1 in the jockey standings, and everybody started taking notice. “He was riding each race like it was the Derby,” said Team Valor’s Siegel. “He’s riding aggressively; he’s patient when he needs to be; he’s riding with confidence.”

Since then Desormeaux has been doing everything right. He rode one of the country’s best horses, Formal Gold, to several major victories last fall; he led the jockey standings at Santa Anita during the winter; and he got to Churchill Downs with Baffert’s colt Real Quiet. After he made a perfectly timed move on the turn, swooped past the leaders, and held on in the stretch to win America’s most famous race, he was letting out whoops of joy all the way to the winner’s circle.

“There just aren’t words to express the feeling,” he said. “It’s the Kentucky Derby -- and my life has changed.” In fact, it has not changed so much as it has gone back on course.