American Pharoah Wins Triple Crown

Emotions are still reeling from the 147^th running of the Belmont Stakes, an edition of the race that will go down in history as one of the most famous of the modern era – or at least of this decade – after American Pharoah galloped to a thrilling victory. Thirty-seven years is a long time to go without a Triple Crown winner, something that racing needed desperately. So desperately, in fact, that debates over the grueling setup of the series were sparked.

Dozens of people claimed that the Triple Crown is too difficult, the rules too unfair, and the feat impossible. They clamored for alterations such as more time in between races to allow horses to have their normal four to five week breaks and insisted that any horse running in the Belmont should have previously run in, at least, the Kentucky Derby or Preakness Stakes.

Dozens of others remained adamant that the way the races are set up is the way they should remain. The feat would lose its meaning if it were made easier, for the Triple Crown is not for good horses – it is for great horses.

This year, among the skepticism surrounding modern day racing, greatness arrived in a plain brown package. Tall, handsome, and unmistakable due to his short tail, American Pharoah carried the hopes of a nation on his back as June 6^th quickly approached. His trainer, Hall of Famer Bob Baffert, and jockey Victor Espinoza had both been down the road before – just last year, Espinoza rode fairytale horse California Chrome in his quest for the Crown – and both were acquainted with the crushing disappointment that comes with every short-coming.

For the Zayat’s, the family that owns the colt, having a Triple Crown hopeful was a new experience.

For me, having a horse like this as a Triple Crown hopeful was also a new experience.

2014 saw American Pharoah run only a handful of times, but it was clear that he was at the top of his class. After spectacular runs in the Del Mar Futurity and the Front Runner Stakes, he missed the Breeders’ Cup Juvenile and was the clear victor of the Champion Two-Year-Old Male Horse Eclipse Award.

When it was announced that his return would come in the Rebel Stakes at Oaklawn Park, I was thrilled. How often does Arkansas host the debut of such a high caliber horse? Not that often. I kept my eye on the forecast the entire week leading up to the race, dreading the rain that seemed inevitable. This was a California horse that had never run on a muddy or sloppy track. Surely he would dislike it and would never fire. I knew just from the walkover that I was wrong. His walk oozed confidence, and his eyes were calm as he took in the crowd that braved the weather to stand along the rail. When the gates sprang, he jumped to the head of the pack with ears pricked, a front shoe twisted, and his gills out in full force. He never looked back as he dominated the field.

Next up was the Arkansas Derby, his final prep before the Kentucky Derby, and the first in which a different tactic was used. Espinoza held American Pharoah in a stalking position and still easily took the race by open lengths. My phone buzzed constantly following the victory.

“Was he as impressive in person as he was on my TV?”
“What a freak.”
“Holy. Cow.”
“WOW.”

Baffert and Espinoza both stated that the colt wasn’t at the top of his game in the Kentucky Derby, where he gave some fans potential cause for concern due to the narrow win margin and the amount of times he was struck with the whip. From my living room, the race looked rather easy – but I admit that I was initially concerned about the Belmont distance, based on that performance. The Preakness was his race to lose, and the moment the downpour began at Pimlico, I was confident in him.  His gills were back.

American Pharoah Gallops Into History

Then came the hard part: The three week wait, the constant debates, the doubt and the confidence in equal measures. In previous years, I have wanted a Triple Crown so badly that I have convinced myself that it would be won. My first disappointment came with Funny Cide. I cried when Smarty Jones lost. I was confident that Afleet Alex would have won, had it not been for his poor Derby. Barbaro won his Triple Crown in the heavens. Big Brown’s loss was met with a moody silence, and I’ll Have Another’s scratch brought forth barely any emotion. My heart was heavy with California Chrome’s loss last year, and I wasn’t sure I could handle any more frustration or tears this time around.

But this year was different. My assurance was solid. I was afraid to verbalize that I thought American Pharoah would win, terrified that it would jinx him, but the feeling was there. Belmont Day passed by in a blur, and before I knew it, the horses were in the paddock. From my vantage point alongside my friends on the rail, right in front of the wire, the screen at Belmont was unobstructed. The throng in the paddock was so deep that at times I could barely see the trademark blue shadow roll, but I recall one moment very vividly. American Pharoah stood in his stall in the paddock, people all around him, with his ears pricked forward and his eyes bright. He was the very image of confidence, of perfection, and I knew that this was the horse we had been waiting for.

Among yelling and screaming and cheers of, “Let’s go, Pharoah!” the field left the gates, and there was a moment where I didn’t breathe. There’s nothing in the world that can compare to standing only feet from thundering hooves, and nothing more breathtaking than the sight of a racehorse doing what it is born to do.

As the horses settled into place, I saw that American Pharoah was up front and he looked as though he were barely trying to stay there. He looked content, as if he were merely toying with the others. All around me, I heard whispers of disbelief. Before I knew it, the field was coming into the far turn and American Pharoah was actually drawing away. The crowd began to roar, and if I had had any hope of hearing the call down the stretch, it was lost then.

I was hypnotized by the way American Pharoah moved, even as I joined in the screaming and yelling. Unlike most horses, he doesn’t seem to pull himself around by his shoulders, an action which can easily tire the animals – especially when distances are increased. He propels himself more with his hind end and elevates his withers. He simply seems to glide over the track, and the very way he does it is effortless. If any horse has wings for feet, it’s him.

First, people said he wouldn’t win the Derby. Then there were people who said his breeding wasn’t conducive to distance.  Not only did he prove them wrong, but American Pharoah was the only horse to run in all three races this year. If that doesn’t make a statement, then I don’t know what does.

No matter what happens next, I’m eternally grateful to a bay colt with half a tail – a colt that brought a nation together.

Story and Photo by Ciara Bowen for EverythingEQ.com