Two Minutes

Saturday's Derby was not what we anticipated.

Sarah and I had done our homework: Big Brown, Colonel John and Pyro were the favorites. Big Brown had only won three races prior to Saturday, but they were all on dirt tracks. There would be one filly racing, Eight Belles. We even found out that all 20 horses came from the same bloodline. We conjured up a (mostly) Southern meal to celebrate, complete with Mint Juleps and everything. Four o'clock rolled around and we turned on the TV, unveiled the appetizers and thoroughly immersed ourselves in the drama-laden pre-race coverage. By 5:00, we had placed our bets (figuratively speaking), made our commentaries and finished our appetizers. We held our breath and waited.

There is a reason they say that the Derby is the most exciting 2 minutes in sports. For those 2 minutes, those horses are all that matter. You've met the trainers, owners and jockeys. You've heard about the horses' challenges and victories; you know who has a chance and who has the long odds. You've picked your favorite and you watch as it runs with all it has along the final stretch, hurtling toward that wreath of roses. For those 2 minutes, I'm convinced that anyone can be a horse racing fan.

We watched. We watched as Big Brown pulled from behind in the fourth turn to gain a wide lead in the final stretch. We watched with pride as Eight Belles (toward whom we were most partial) maintained a steady 2nd place. We watched as Big Brown won, clinching his first victory in pursuit of the Triple Crown. And we watched as the camera panned over to a collapsed Eight Belles and then discovered, to our great dismay, that she had broken both front ankles and had to be immediately euthanized. Within 2 minutes, she had gone from potential victory to ultimate defeat.

And so, perhaps it is only appropriate that the mint in our juleps was a bit wilted and our biscuits were rather flat. We still had a great feast in honor of the Derby and in anticipation of a potential Triple Crown winner. One down, two to go Big Brown. We'll be cheering for you, but we won't forget our sweet Eight Belles.