Watching Smarty Jones’ record-breaking domination of the Preakness field this weekend made the second jewel in the Triple Crown look like KG playing in a pickup game at the Y.
Or like watching him get beat up by Anthony Peeler, but that’s another column.
For the majority of the sports world, this week in racing gave us another great story. The little horse that could from Philly took down the snooty racing elite and staked a strong claim that he deserves to be the first horse to win the Triple Crown since Affirmed in 1978.
And make no mistake; this horse has the best shot in recent memory—much better than Funny Cide did last year. He’s fast enough to stay out of trouble, but not so fast that he can only run from the front. He’s shown maturity and an ability to use his speed tactically; plus, he’s peaking at the right time. Even the much-derided clustering of Triple Crown events (three in around a month and a half) works to his advantage. He’s the hottest horse going right now, and the more races he can run before he cools off (and the competition catches up) the better.
Most importantly, there is no Empire Maker lurking to knock Smarty Jones off, as there was for Funny Cide last year. The 3-year-old field right now is weak. Extremely weak. The most talented horses are hurt or lack seasoning. The Cliff’s Edge is still suffering from running the Derby basically barefoot. Rock Hard Ten is an absolute monster, but was running in only the fourth race of his life. He held up the Preakness while a gaggle of overweight stewards were trying to force this 1500 pound work of art into the gate—perhaps the best unintentional comedy moment of the race, barring John Servais’ declaration that Smarty Jones had just “won for America.”
Does this make him a legitimate target in the war on terror? Should Homeland Security keep tabs on his whereabouts? And if I bet against him does that mean I should expect a knock on my door from one of John Ashcroft’s boys? But I digress.
Has there ever been the potential for reality TV madness that Smarty’s 89-year old owner brings to the table every time he shows up on camera? Does it make me a bad person to admit that I had the Preakness in the “when will Smarty Jones’ owner keel over and die on national television” pool? My friend Bill’s theory is that his oxygen tank is really filled with nitrous—which would explain his Don Vitoesque response to Bob Costas in the post-race winner’s circle interview. Given the look on Costas’ face, one can only imagine what an elderly (understatement) horse racing veteran who has just won millions of dollars would say to one of Bob’s obligatory questions. I’m guessing the rules of decorum and appropriateness don’t matter much to a guy in his position.
On the flip side, I may be able to win my money back if Smarty wins the Belmont. In the new pool, I’ve got the old man jumping out of his wheel chair and triumphantly declaring “I’m Rick James, B—ch!!” and walking off into the sunset cackling.
But maybe I’ve been spending too much time watching Chappelle and Viva la Bam, trying to forget my Preakness losses and what could have been.
On to the real questions—will Smarty win the Triple Crown? And should he be bet on?
Barring something unforeseen (spiking his feed, sniper fire) Smarty should win the Triple Crown. Unless a horse substantially improves—and by improves, I’m talking a Bob Beamon jump in performance—I will be surprised if he does not win the Belmont.
As for betting, that’s a different story. If you were feeling adventurous, the Preakness offered a lot of value. Mutual prices are a straight market—if 90% of the pool is in favor of one horse and another one wins, then all that money gets split among the winning tickets.
So when a horse like Smarty Jones, who had some question marks against him going into the Preakness, gets bet down to less than even money, all the wise guys start to get greedy. Especially considering that this is one of the four days of the year that the pools are already over inflated because of all the casual fans who turn out for Triple Crown events; choosing a betting strategy that relied on Smarty failing to win promised a juicy payoff.
Which brings us to this year’s villain—Ken Desormeaux, Jr., jockey of Imperialism and honorary Steve Bartman of the Preakness. Going in, Imperialism looked like the only horse that could beat Smarty—Lion Heart had proved he couldn’t hold the lead into the stretch and Rock Hard Ten was too unseasoned. Imperialism had had a rough trip in the Derby, but in all his previous races since being switched to 21-year old trainer Kristen Mulhall, he had hit the board and was gaining on the winner. Pimlico, despite conventional wisdom, had been running against front-runners all day, setting the race up for a closer.
And Imperialism was one heck of a closer. His M.O. was to sit back in virtually last place and save his energy for a furious closing kick—which made even his losses impressive. There’s just something about watching a horse come from virtually last place and pass horse after horse after horse in an all out sprint for the wire.
Originally, Imperialism wasn’t even going to run in the Preakness, but Desormeaux (and the owner) convinced Mulhall that he could win. Furthermore, Desormeaux argued that the only reason he hadn’t won the Derby was because it was his first race with the tricky horse—not only could this horse only run from the back, but he was nearly blind in his right eye and couldn’t chase down what he couldn’t see. In each of his losses, this horse had gotten stuck inside and couldn’t see his rivals very well—it was up to the jockey to insure that didn’t happen. In short, Desormeaux argued that Imperialism got into trouble because he gave him a bad ride, but this time would be different.
So Ken begs, Kristen relents and we have ourselves a risky strategy for the Preakness, but one that promises riches should Imperialism upset Smarty Jones.
What does Ken do? He takes a page out of the Grady Little playbook. He forces the horse to do the one thing everyone knows this horse cannot do—he breaks early and sends Imperialism up nearly to the front, rather than letting him coast along until he’s ready to start running down rivals. By the time they turn for home, Imperialism is beat, Smarty Jones takes off, and the only horse that could (possibly) have kept up was too tired to join in pursuit.
Thanks Ken. You single-handedly turned the Preakness into a romp. For another horse.
Well done.
Long story short, don’t bet against Smarty Jones in the Belmont.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Chris McIntosh is a graduate student at the University of Chicago and an occassional contributor to SportsFiends.com.
