Zenyatta does her Secretariat impression

I've shared my passion for the remarkable mare Zenyatta in a previous post.  At the time, she had just won her 17th race in a row -- in her usual thrilling fashion -- to break the American record for consecutive victories.

Well, yesterday, she did it again, this time bringing her win total to 19.  She electrified the crowd with another late run to victory.  It was her final race in California.  She will only race one more time in her career, and that will be here in Louisville, November 6th in the Breeders' Cup Classic, one of the biggest races in the world.  Write it down.  After you watch the videos below, you won't want to miss it.

If she can somehow pull off one more win against some seriously good horses, Zenyatta will finish her career a perfect 20 for 20.  It would be an astonishing achievement to rival any feat, not just in horse racing, but in sports history in general.

Here's a short post from my horse racing blog, Horsepuckey, that I thought you'd enjoy, including the goose bump-inducing videos:

The stars are aligning for this year's Breeders' Cup - hopefully the people running the show realize the golden opportunity in front of them, between the movie, Secretariat, and the real-life racing star who is doing a mighty good impression of Big Red.

From the video below, it appears that perhaps they do.  The promo popped up on YouTube last night after Zenyatta's thrilling victory in the Lady's Secret stakes, her 19th win in a row.  The final race of her career will be one of the biggest races in the world, the Breeders' Cup Classic November 6th at Churchill Downs, where she will try to end her career a perfect 20 for 20. 

Astonishing.

If you missed the Lady's Secret, that's posted below as well.  When I bet on a race, I always get a little adrenaline rush as the horses approach the wire, maybe a few fast beats of the heart, if my horse is involved.

I didn't have a dime on Zenyatta's race, and my heart was pounding out of my chest right before she hit the line in her usual oh-my-god-I-don't-think-she's-going-make-it-this-time!!! fashion.

She's in a class all by herself as a champion racehorse.

I love her. I will miss her. I have run out of words to describe her.  Let's just roll the videos:

Where the hell am I?

Since I moved to Louisville a month ago, I've heard conflicting messages about where I actually live.

"Hey," they write on Facebook, "welcome back to the South!"

"Are you enjoying the Midwest?" others write.

There are few cities that have this particular identity crisis.  New York, Boston, Minneapolis, St. Louis, New Orleans, Atlanta, Denver.  If I ask anyone where these cities are, 99.9% of people are going to give the same answer.

Louisville, on the other hand, is in geographical purgatory.  It sits on the Ohio River, a half a mile from Indiana.  Who would say Indiana is in the South?  But Louisville is in Kentucky.  Who would say Kentucky isn't in the South?

To make matters worse, Louisville doesn't even exist, according to Google Maps.  Go ahead, type in Louisville and see what happens.


I love it.

What makes Louisville so cool is that you can't pin it down.  If I was plopped down randomly in my neighborhood, I would absolutely say I'm in the Midwest.  If I was dropped (off) in another part of town, I might say, I must be in the South.

I was at a bar recently where this subject came up.  Everyone had a different opinion.  A guy with a Northern accent who said he was from the South kept saying, this is the MIDWEST.  I had my first BRAT here!!!

Another person with a Southern accent said:  Awww, come own (that's not a typo, "come own" is what she said), Louisville's pretty Southern.

Obviously, there's a difference of opinion.  How about some empirical evidence?

My own personal studies have shown that cities in the South rarely, if ever, serve unsweetened iced tea.  You get sweet tea or you go thirsty.  The cities farthest from the South tend to only serve unsweetened iced tea.  In Louisville, you have places that only serve unsweetened.  You have places that only serve sweetened.  But a majority of places go out of their way to serve both, as if I arrived here after a post-iced tea war treaty was signed.

Clearly, that doesn't resolve the issue.

I'd say Southern vs Northern accents here is 60-40 in favor of Southern.  I'd say the food is 60-40 in favor of Northern.  I'd say the culture is 70-30 in favor of either one, depending on the neighborhood.

Here's my final thought on this.  If you've lived in Louisville or spent a significant amount of time here, you're welcome to call it whatever you want - North, South, East, West, gateway to Mars.

If you've never visited, you will be welcomed with open arms.  But keep your opinions about where it is to yourself.  You have no idea what you're talking about.

There's only one label I've seen so far that makes sense to me.  I see it on bumper stickers and other signs around town.

Keep Louisville weird.

Amen.

The Bluegrass Duke vs Carolina

One of the pleasant advantages of going back to college is that I get the perks of being a student.  I can swim in the Olympic-sized pool at the University of Louisville for free (well, "free" after the ungodly amount of tuition I've paid).  I can work out in the university gym.  And I can get certain University of Louisville athletic tickets for about $15.


I'm taking advantage of all these perks while I have them, which includes going to this weekend's home game against the University of Kentucky.  Having graduated from the University of North Carolina some years ago, I'm familiar with intense in-state rivalries.  There's a school eight miles from Chapel Hill that I will refer to as the University of New Jersey at Durham, which is a well-known anti-christ to my alma mater.

I've always been of the opinion that Duke-Carolina is the most intense rivalry in college sports, but I must admit, I can already tell this Louisville-Kentucky thing is pretty damned nasty. 


It's different than Carolina-Duke in some respects.  I see students walking on the Louisville campus wearing UK T-shirts.  I don't recall ever seeing a UNC student wearing a Duke shirt.  It's a violation so unthinkable that a public stoning would not be uncalled for.  That might confirm my original contention about Duke-UNC.  But having talked to a few people here, I'm not ready to declare the champion just yet.


I met a guy who told me he grew up in Louisville, and that once I'd lived here for a while, I would understand that UK fans are complete rednecks and that Louisville fans are much more sophisticated.  His own family members, he said, are UK fans, despite all "#(#*$!!" logic.  Clearly, during football or basketball games, he has a hard time being in the same room with them.

Sounds very familiar.

Even in my classes, certain professors will not utter the name of the school an hour away in Lexington.  THAT OTHER school, they say.

Boy, does that ring a bell.

I'm trying to reserve judgment.  Obviously, since I'm a student at U of L, I should side with the Cardinals.  But in a congruent equation, UK would most likely equal UNC and Louisville would most likely equal Duke.  So there's a bit of a conundrum.  Besides, Louisville's basketball coach is Rick Patino, a slick-haired equivalent to Duke's Mike Krzyzewski, in my mind.

I've already had one friend (a Duke grad, no less) tell me he'd be disappointed if I pulled for Louisville in any respect.

The Louisville guy told me that there's even some racial undertones to the rivalry, in that Louisville is the most "urban" university in Kentucky and that UK took a extraordinarily long time to accept minorities.  Woah, man.  I'm not sure I want to get involved in that debate.

Kentucky has no professional sports teams, so I'm guessing that makes the rivalry even more important in the minds of the people here.  The Cincinnati Bengals or the Reds, the Indianapolis Colts or the Pacers are the teams of choice since they're not too far away, but they aren't in Kentucky, so it all falls to UK and Louisville to satisfy the state's (I mean, commonwealth's) pride.

Saturday, I will pull for the Cardinals and see how I feel afterward.  I'll probably be sitting with a bunch of 20-year-olds, so I'm sure that will bring back memories of Kenan Stadium in Chapel Hill, where as a freshman I recall a game against Louisville in which I slid down a hill of mud, drunk from Beam and Coke.


I better get a flask, just in case.

Horse heaven humidity

I've finally reached my destination -- Louisville, KY.

Holy mother of god, it is humid here.  I have to change my shirt after walking from the apartment to my car.  Welcome to the Midwest, you weather-spoiled Angelino.

I'm not complaining.  I've died and gone to horse heaven.  I was shopping at Kroger yesterday, and above me in the spice aisle was a banner commemorating War Admiral's win in the 1937 Kentucky Derby.  Above the bread aisle was Secretariat.  By the deli, a picture of the 1972 Run for the Roses, as they rounded the clubhouse turn.

I've never enjoyed a trip to Kroger so much in my life.  As I put the groceries in the car, I could see the Twin Spires of Churchill Downs.  They're directly across from the University of Louisville campus, where I will spend much of the next year.  Pinch me.

I wandered through the beautiful campus buildings and picked up my student ID, feeling like a clueless freshman because I stopped at almost every map kiosk.  Sure, I was about the oldest person eating free pizza at the student government welcome event, but no one seemed to wonder why the gentlemen with gray hairs on his temples was so interested in the student body president's initiative for swapping textbooks.  Besides, I now have a student ID to prove that I am indeed a 40-year-old 5th-year freshman.

I stopped by the Equine Business building, where I will be doing my studies, and there on the wall was a mathematical analysis of the probability that a claiming horse will return a profit for its owner.  E=CRTV3x*+& or something like that.  I guess I will learn it soon.  I am one happy horse geek.

Louisville is a cool town with a well-recognized arts scene, fantastic restaurants and some of the friendliest people on earth.  In the Highlands area, there are five Irish pubs within two blocks of each other.  None of them are chains, and I am digging it.

At one local pub, I ran into an assistant for successful thoroughbred trainer Michael Maker and struck up a conversation.  That wouldn't happen in LA. And I've only been here two days.

I'm still searching for the blue grass, though.  I have looked everywhere, and I don't see any grass that is blue.  It's green, just like everywhere else.

But make no mistake, the ground here is special, a tie that binds horses and bourbon together.

Kentucky's grass sits on a bed of limestone, and when limestone seeps into the water, it makes the finest bourbon whiskey and the strongest horse legs imaginable.  Near Lexington, you'll find multi-million dollar horse farms and distilleries, sometimes on the same property.  They know all about the secret of Kentucky.  I took these photos on my last trip here:

 

 
The last photo is a tree at Buffalo Trace, a fantastic distillery that sits on an old buffalo roaming route and where bourbon has been made since 1787.  The tree is covered in bourbon mash from the distilling process, basically.  It doesn't harm the tree.  Just turns it black.

Blackgrass.  Bluegrass.  Greengrass.  It's all beautiful to me.

Monotony, Kansas

Greetings from Lawrence, KS.

Lawrence holds a special place in my heart.  My wife, Megan, lived here at one point.  And Lawrence is home to the Kansas Jayhawks, a formidable basketball school that is a distinct rival to my alma mater, the UNC Tarheels.  In fact, I saw a shirt in a store window that said:  Kansas.  Home of North Carolina Basketball.  If you know your college b-ball history, you'll get that reference.  It should get under my skin, but I'm simply amused.  Two of North Carolina's greatest coaches, Dean Smith and Roy Williams, have roots as Jayhawks.

Lawrence is also home to the Free State Brewery, which kicks ass, and is worth stopping for.  I enjoyed a couple of Ad Astra ales before coming back to the motel tonight.  Lawrence is an excellent college town that is similar to Chapel Hill, so I feel at home here.

I visited a friend in Denver last night and drove 550 miles today through eastern Colorado and western Kansas.  Here's a picture.  Just imagine any place in Kansas and this is a photo of it:

I spent the day wishing a tornado would appear on the horizon to take me away to a better place or at least give me something to look at for a few minutes.  Alas, I got a couple strikes of lightning and that was it.

---------

When I moved to California, I drove the Southern route on I-10 with my cat, Sweetpea.  She was a royal pain in the ass, starting our cross-country voyage by puking all over my stuff and otherwise being difficult.  While I was living in LA, Sweetpea died at the age of 16.  Despite her proclivity for being a pain in the ass, I was overwhelmed with grief, and I kept her ashes.  After a while, I didn't know what to do with them, so her remains ended up in our garage.

In the moving process, I realized Sweetpea was in a canister in the garage, so I decided it was time to get some closure.  During this trip, I've slowly spread Sweetpea's remains across the West.  When I reached Bozeman, MT, I saw they were having their annual Sweetpea Festival to celebrate the blooming of a rare flower, and I knew it was fate.  I let Sweetpea's final ashes go in a beautiful spot on the Yellowstone River near the entrance to Yellowstone National Park.

I was fine until the last ashes floated onto the wind, and then, I became emotional.

Today, while I was driving through Kansas, I was listening to David Sedaris tell the story of his cat.  Like me, David was overwhelmed with grief and kept the ashes.

And like me, he wasn't sure what to do with them.  Eventually, he realized his cat hated the outdoors, so he spread the kitty's remains on the living room carpet and then vacuumed them up.

His mother wrote a check for the procedure, and at the bottom of the check, it said:

For:  Pet Burning.

I laughed so hard, tears were streaming down my face.

Again.

Big skies and bikers

My travel blog continues from northwest Nebraska.

I'm in the only town of substance for miles around here.  Every once in a while, the town's college basketball team makes the NCAA tournament, and people say -- Chadron State?  Where the hell is that?  Well, here it is, in Chadron, NE.

Yesterday, I drove east from Billings, Montana and stopped at the Little Bighorn memorial -- the site of Custer's Last Stand.  I wasn't planning to stop, but I'm glad I did.  Here lies the remains of 220 American soldiers who were defeated June 26, 1876 by Native Americans trying to defend their land.  It was one of the few victories against the US government.

Custer's gravestone is here, but he is buried at West Point.

The ranger told the story of the battle with so much passion, you'd think it happened last week.  He explained how the Lakotas never wanted a fight, even though they far outnumbered the soldiers.  The tribes couldn't afford to lose their warriors -- the men who provided and protected.  It would take a generation to replace them, while a new US soldier could be trained in five or six months.  The whole thing was very moving and made me ponder the senseless behavior of our government. 

Later in the day, I stopped at Mount Rushmore, seemingly a monument to American brilliance.  But  the faces of our leaders are carved into land that was once sacred to the Sioux.  The US government just took it from them.  The carvings are pretty extraordinary, but I found Little Bighorn more compelling.  Here's Rushmore from the parking lot:

Some photos without my car in them:

Not far from Mt. Rushmore is Custer, South Dakota.  Custer is a good 60 miles from Sturgis, site of this week's gigantic biker rally.  It doesn't matter.  Bikers are EVERYWHERE around here.  It's good people-watching.

Hey, I thought you were buried at West Point?

Here are some high-speed photos, and by that I mean they were taken while I was driving 80 mph (or less):

Why they call it Big Sky country.  Wyoming:

If you look behind the biker's head, you can see the carving of chief Crazy Horse:

A storm brews over the grasslands of Nebraska:

Greetings from Wyoming

Yellowstone National Park is stunning beyond words, so I'll try to use as few words as possible and stick with my large photos and a few comments and stories.

Yellowstone sits on a volcano.  It could erupt at any time, and when it does erupt, it will spew ash over half of the United States.  Scientists believe it has erupted three times so far and is due for another explosion any century now.  Until then, we get to enjoy its immense beauty.

The ground beneath Yellowstone is literally boiling.  It creates strange geological wonders you won't find anywhere else.  Like this:

This is not snow:

Double, Double, Toil and Trouble.  A boiling sulfur cauldron:

Now that you've been warned that Yellowstone sits on a volcano, do you see anything wrong in this picture?

Apparently, some people don't understand the words DO NOT ENTER.  Ranger Betty told me that every year, Yellowstone transports people to the Salt Lake Burn Center because they do stupid things like this -- walk on ground that could collapse at any minute and burn their legs to cinders.

I encountered other absolutely asinine behavior at Yellowstone.  Early on in my drive through the park, I spotted a bison a few hundred yards away on a plain.  I pulled over to grab a shot with the zoom.  While I was doing this, two other cars pulled over, and the families inside sprinted toward the bison, leaving the doors to their mini-vans wide open.  

When one of the families returned to their car, I said to the guy:

"That wasn't the brightest thing in the world."

"What?"

"You running after that bison with your kids.  Last summer I saw a bison charge a family just like yours (lying).  A couple weeks ago, somebody was eaten by a grizzly bear out here (not lying)."

"Oh, yeah, I heard about that."

All over the park, there are signs warning people not to approach the wildlife because bison do charge and grizzly bears do eat people.

The stupidity of tourists is unavoidable here, but thankfully so is nature's grandeur.  Exhibits A, B & C:

At some points in the park, the wildlife comes to you.  In Hayden Valley, the bison seem extremely comfortable with humans:

This bison and elk couldn't have been more than 20 feet away:

I did stop at Old Faithful, but I couldn't wait around for it to spew.  Apparently, Faithful didn't get my itinerary ahead of time, so I was only able to watch it cough:

I left Yellowstone on 212 East, which is considered by many to be the most scenic highway in America.  I won't argue with them.  It is breathtaking:

The road itself is amazing.  It's not for the faint of heart.  It reminded me of a Formula One course on the edge of a cliff.  Check out the road:

When I reached the top of the canyons on 212 East, it was 52 degrees and magnificent (although the photos can't nearly do it justice):

The only words I have left -- it was worth every mile I drove to get here.

Beer and Potatoes

My cross-country travel-blog continues from Bozeman, MT.

I started the day in Salt Lake City, where I downed a couple of fine beers before crashing early last night.  Yes, you can buy real beer in Salt Lake, and the microbreweries there are quite good.  I sampled a tasty porter from Wasatch and ales from Unita, Desert Edge and Hoppers.  Utah still has fairly strict alcohol laws.  In state-run wine stores, you can only buy "near-beer" (3.5% alcohol), but in taverns and restaurants, full-strength beer in all its glory is available.  I was happy to find a collection of microbreweries I had neither tried nor heard of.

I made a quick stop on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, the magnificent body of water you see above.  Then, I spud northward to Idaho.  I realize Idaho is known for its potatoes, but I didn't think it would look like them.  The hills around Pocatello resemble giant potatoes with chives sprinkled on them.  Take a look!  Otherwise, southeastern Idaho isn't much to write home about.  But as you get closer to Montana and Wyoming, the terrain changes in spectacular ways.

I won't make it to the Grand Tetons this trip, but you can see them off in the distance of this photo.  Even from far away, they look HUGE.  I stopped briefly in West Yellowstone, the gateway to the national park.  I chose not to stay there because it is swamped with tourists and insanely expensive for what you get.  Instead, I tacked on an hour or so and headed even further north to Bozeman, a rugged, outdoorsy place -- home to Montana State University and lots of rodeo.  I feel like I'm driving a toy car around here.  At every stoplight, I see a truck that is bigger than the biggest truck I've ever seen.  These aren't trucks.  They are TRUCKS.

I've been doing a lot of driving (1300+ miles in 3 days).  Seeing America like that gives it a different perspective than if you stay over in one place for a couple of days.  If you keep moving, you feel how distinctive each state is, and how they bleed together into one enormous country.  The reddish crags of Nevada and Arizona give way to the blue and green peaks of Utah, which roll into the yellow and brown potato hills of Idaho, which give way to the cedar and pine forests of Montana.  It's a visual rollercoaster -- albeit a really, really long and slow one.

I passed through a bit of Yellowstone, and I can already tell it's a special place.  The fly fisherman were wading into the quiet streams, while further north, bus loads of whitewater rafters were tackling the rapids.  The forests are breathtaking.  I can't wait to see more of it tomorrow.

Today's soundtrack included Johnny Cash, The Jayhawks, Jay Nash, Keith Wasserman, Kings of Leon and KT Tunstall among others.