CUP of COFFEE
Everyone Into the Pool With a Superhorse I was sifting for gold, waiting for the one which felt right. I pulled out the he first Saturday in May, slip and opened it up. 1977. Flag Officer. Dad organized a Who the hell is Flag Officer? Kentucky Derby pool at My dad shrugged his shoulders, his the barn every year, drawing names youngest son learning the vagaries of out of his Irish tweed cap. Exercise racing, gambling, disappointment. riders, hotwalkers, grooms, the Two Labrador Retrievers, Babsie and blacksmith, the feed man, all in with Puddles, wagged their tails, ignorant a chance, the closest they’d ever get of my dismay, my disgust. to a Derby winner. Five bucks a “This one’s for Mom,” I said, horse. Dad always spotted me the reaching back into the hat. money and I always drew for my Run Dusty Run. mom, distracted, and my sister, Second choice. Trained by Smiley Photo © by Vicky Moon disinterested. Adams, the seven-time winner had a Sean Clancy The folded slips of paper swam shot if Seattle Slew stumbled. around as my dad shook his hat from the tack room “This one’s for Sheila.” at Brandywine Stable, the private training facility And there it was, scratched across a slip of paper at Delaware Park. My dad’s cursive scrawl of each and etched into my soul. Derby starter was on each slip, some even spelled Slew. correctly. There was one slip you wanted in 1977. I looked at dad. Only he and I would ever know. Seattle Slew. Undefeated. The odds-on favorite. A “That was mine…that was mine…that was bona fide superstar. mine. Come on, Dad. Please, Dad. Sheila’s sleep“Is he still in there?” I asked Dad. ing. She doesn’t even know who Seattle Slew is, He nodded, smiled, an affirmation of possibility. I she’ll never know…” knew I would find Seattle Slew in the confetti of hope. Dad didn’t budge, standing his ground, another “This one’s for me, Dad.” lesson delivered with a father’s decisiveness. I was I reached in, fished through the slips of paper as if mad at him and proud of him all at the same time. By Sean Clancy
T
Crestfallen, I shuffled back to the house, Babsie and Puddles keeping their distance. “Sheila got Seattle Slew.” My mom smiled, “Good for Sheila.” Of course, Seattle Slew won the Derby, overcoming a bungling start, slicing into a stalking spot in a matter of strides and in the clear for good as the field went under the wire the first time. Slew’s trainer, the late Billy Turner, a former steeplechase jockey, had called his jockey, Jean Cruguet, a “cold competitor” before the race. Cruguet was ice in a cauldron. The “alleged superhorse” as Howard Cosell put it before the race, emphatically became the superhorse, tacking on the Preakness and Belmont Stakes to win the Triple Crown five weeks later. The $17,000 freak, the first undefeated winner of the world’s most famous race. Run Dusty Run closed ground but chased in vain, a gallant second. Flag Officer got hot and dirty, finishing 10th. Sheila pocketed $75. How long did it take for me to get over it? I’ll let you know. And now here we are, 45 years after Seattle Slew (and Sheila) took the money. I’ve watched every Derby since, from the confident Affirmed to the confounding Medina Spirit, a victory that is still in question after a failed drug test. I have yet to win the hat pool. This year, we’ll watch the Derby at Hill School’s 45th annual auction, “A Day at the Races.” Perhaps, they’ll have a hat pool. Don’t tell Sheila.
Country ZEST & Style | Spring 2022
75
