Share Derby Stories

anyone willing to share their stories about their most interesting Derby
pre-post, successes, failures, mishaps, strange happenings, bizarre behaviors, romantic moments witnessed etc!!!

Monday after Derby I will be looking for the good stuff! Oh yea!

Good luck all!

anyone willing to share their stories about their most interesting Derby
pre-post, successes, failures, mishaps, strange happenings, bizarre behaviors, romantic moments witnessed etc!!!

Monday after Derby I will be looking for the good stuff! Oh yea!

Good luck all!

I was born on Derby Day 1958 and the closest I've ever been is Oaks. Go figure. One day, b4 I die, I really need to go to the Derby. That's my story, it sucks, but what else can I say.

I guess my most memorable Derby was when I worked as an aide to a friend (for a low hourly rate just so I could be at Derby) who was an organizer for a Chicago-based caterer at a 1994 Derby Day event hosted on the grounds of Churchill Downs. My pass allowed me to walk up pretty close to the track to watch the race. It was fun working with and talking to the catering staff, much of whom were hired in Louisville. Everyone was very friendly and even though everyone was working very hard, most seemed to have a good time.

Derby Day, 1991.
I was a busboy at Churchill Downs in Skye Terrace and the old Eclipse Room and was picked to work the President's Suite for Oaks and Derby days. I was given a laminate 'All Access' credential and was basically a gopher for whatever foodstuffs came to and left from the room.
I got to meet a lot of 'names', and being just a teenager, it was a cool experience. Rod Stewart, Rachel Hunter, and Ron Wood came to the room together. The two gents were quite obviously enjoying the festivities of the day and were in very jovial spirits, not to mention speaking with almost indecipherable, julep- thickened accents. After being introduced, and a little starstruck, I was asked if I could acquire a dish of vanilla ice cream for Ms. Hunter. I hurriedly obliged the request, trekked to a vendor near the grandstands, and brought back the ice cream.
The trio thanked me, peeled me off a very nice token of their gratitude, and Mr. Stewart kindly signed an autograph for me. The really cool part (to me, anyway) is how stoked I was to get the autograph simply because my best friend's Mom was the BIGGEST Rod Stewart fan, and I knew how much she would appreciate having it.
For just being a kid, that was a pretty sweet Derby.

We moved to the area in 2002. My husband phoned me from work a few weeks before Derby and said we'd been invited, would I like to go, knowing full well I'd be willing to open a vein for it. So I looked up the horses online, tuned in to the cable racing station. A week of favored horses, and I kept coming back to the same horse, War Emblem. I was about the only one who did.

And when the big race came, I didn't bet, just stood there after we'd all gaily belted out "My Old Kentucky Home," thinking of Butterfly McQueen and saying aloud, "Why hasn't anybody bet on this horse?"

We'd all risen to our feet even before the song, and as the horses shot out of the gate, the crowd swelling into the trademark, deafening cheer, it was War Emblem who started first and I kept repeating, "Well, that's it, it's War Emblem." I'd been saying it since the Derby breakfast, people looking at me as if I were out of my mind. None of the talking heads had bothered with him, and he was a long shot. By the time he shot across the finish line, a perfect stranger clapped me on the back and said, "Congratulations! Your horse won!"

Last year we were invited again, and because we were up in the upper stratosphere of the track, we had a birdseye view. I snapped a photo of a horse shooting across the finish line, but didn't have a clue who it was. All the way to the car I kept saying, "Who won?" And then the heartbreak of Barbaro.

The only Derby I have ever been to was when I worked a season as a hotwalker for a trainer (he did not train any Derby runners) and spent race day on the backside. You always hear about the crazy tales of the infield and the pomp of millionaire's row. Let me tell you, backside is a whole 'nother world. I'll probably never get to experience it again as I have had a 'real' job in the corporate world for many years now. But I will always remember the comraderie and friendliness of the true horse people.

About ten years ago (when I was actually still a performing musician) I was booked to play with a jazz quintet for the network covering the Derby then (forgive me, but I think it was ABC - just can't recall). Upon arriving at the Brown for the gig, the crowd for the dinner was nonexistent - no one showed except the on air talent and the production senior crew. We played about fifteen minutes of music, then were invited to have dinner with the executives who were throwing the party (seems like I remember Al Michaels was hosting that night?). As I recall, the hardest part of the evening was crossing Broadway from south to north to get to the gig (it was parade day), as I had been out of town and was coming from the airport.