Today is Derby Day, when anybody who has ever seen a horse dons fancy clothes, drinks a mint julep, and puts down a bet.
Today will be the only day that three-fourths of the people in the United States who will watch “the most exciting two minutes in sports” give a hoot about racehorses.
I’m one of those people. I’m a bit more interested in it now than I was, say, a decade ago, but I’m no expert. The only horse slated to run today whose name I even know is Brooklyn Strong. And that’s only because Paul Halloran and Jessica Paquette, the two closest people I have in my life who would qualify as “touts,” are high on him. And if they are, so am I, because I wouldn’t know the difference.
I’m the guy who bragged that I never set foot in Suffolk Downs until the place was ready to close. Now, I wish I’d gone there more often.
