My Old Kentucky Home
The first time I crossed the state line into Kentucky from Tennessee was in the spring of 1987. Bill Curry had taken over at Alabama and informed all of us that our services were no longer needed. Getting the boot at age 35 was tough enough. Not having a contract or severance pay added to the misery.
There were a few “old heads” from the Alabama staff who had worked with Howard Schnellenberger when he was Coach Bryant’s offensive coordinator and had won 3 national championships in 5 years. Sam Baily, Clem Gryska, Jack Rutledge and Gary White come to mind. After contacting Howard, he invited us up for an interview. The good news? He offered me a position on the football staff. The bad news? It paid $260 a month as a graduate assistant.
Around Christmas, our running backs coach left and I was hired full time. We loved Louisville, the people, the rabid fans, the administration and the players. Schnelly decided that U of L needed to be seen in all Kentucky high schools like Denny Crum had done in basketball. Since I was the low man on the totem pole, I got sent to the backwoods of the Bluegrass state: far eastern Kentucky. Louisa, Hazard, Harlan, Paintsville, Prestonsburg, and Pikeville. If Kentucky got an enema, this is where they would stick it.
Being from Alabama, the staff members called me “country.” When I got back from recruiting that area, I told them point blank: “Don’t you ever call Alabama country again.” I had been to all 67 counties in Alabama and nothing was more backwards than those coal mining towns I visited. The potholes caused by coal and logging trucks would swallow a small car. I will never forget one of the recruits who brought his lunch from home, offered me a squirrel sandwich, wrapped in wax paper.I declined and ate guess-a-meat instead.
This area was made famous by the Hatfields and McCoys and the Dukes of Hazard, not their football players.
When Howard left for Oklahoma after the ‘94 season, we got let go and I headed back to Alabama to work with my brother in his financial planning firm.
This isn’t about football or living in the Bluegrass state. It’s about the reason I am currently in this state: to attend my 39th consecutive Kentucky Derby. I never knew how everything in this area revolves around the Derby. I saw Winning Colors win the roses in 1988 and I was hooked.
When I met my wife, Susan, in March of 2010, she said one of her bucket list goals was to someday attend the Kentucky Derby. This weekend will be her 17th consecutive. If you see her on TV, she will be the one with a hat the size of a satellite dish.
Here are a few basic facts about this weekend:
Today, is the running of the Kentucky Oaks. This is the championship race for the fillies and there will be 14 horses entered. Fortunately, the woke crowd can’t enter a colt that identifies as a female. The winner receives a garland of lilies. Everyone in attendance will be wearing something pink for breast cancer research and awareness. Before one of the races, there is an emotional walking parade on the track for cancer survivors. Other walkers will walk and hold signs in memory of the women (and men) who passed away from this disease. This will be the first time that the Oaks will be run at night under the lights so they can get primetime TV coverage.
On Saturday, the 152nd Run for the Roses takes place at Churchill Downs. Only 3-year-olds are eligible to compete. By the way, all thoroughbreds have the same birthday: January 1st. All 20 runners were born in 2023. There are a few things that create extra challenges in the Kentucky Derby.
First, none of these horses have ever raced at this distance of a mile and a quarter (10 furlongs). The noise created by 150,000 screaming fans along with the longest finishing stretch in the nation causes many young colts to falter. Inexperienced jockeys sometimes go to the crop too soon and wear their horse out. To make the race balanced, all jockeys and their racing tack, must weigh 126 pounds or less.
The traditions on Saturday are everywhere. The official drink is the mint julep (Woodford Reserve bourbon, simple sugar, crushed ice and a muddled mint.) Two of these and you will be feeling your oats (pun intended.) This is one time that the dress code is simple: anything goes.
Big hats, colorful dresses, seersucker suits, cigars, loud jackets, and outfits that cost more than a month’s rent. On the infield, it’s one big festival party. Since the thousands on the infield don’t have seats, many of them never even see a horse all day, except on the big screen. Like everything else, corporations found that they could sell out big comfortable tents in that area for a prime amount.
On Derby Day, Muhammed Ali Airport in Louisville will be one of the busiest in the nation with private jets coming in from foreign countries, Hollywood and every big city in the nation.
My pick for the Derby? Number 18 (Further Ado), #8 (So Happy) and #1 (Renegade) if he doesn’t get pinned against the rail from the inside post.
Grab a julep, light a cigar, sing my “Old Kentucky Home” and cheer your favorite horse on. After the call for “Riders Up” and the singing of “My Old Kentucky Home,” it’s finally time for the greatest two minutes in sports.
It won’t be long before hearing those famous words:
“And They’re Off.”
Talk Derby to me.