by Joe Drape
No horseman likes to concede that they are running for second-place money, but the trainer of Texas Red, Keith Desormeaux, declared that American Pharoah was from “another planet.” Keith Mason, one of the owners of Keen Ice, was simply grateful to have a horse in a race with the Triple Crown champion. His colt finished third to American Pharoah in the Belmont and second in the Haskell Stakes earlier this month.
“I feel fortunate to be at a place like Saratoga to run against a horse like American Pharoah,” said Mason, an Atlanta lawyer. “The sport deserves something like this.”
When the gates opened at 7:00 a.m., there was a stampede to the clubhouse to secure box seats. Ten minutes later, those boxes were filled. By 8:00 a.m., so were the seats along the stretch. When American Pharoah took to the track at 8:45 a.m., people were standing six deep along the rail.
As the chiseled bay colt galloped, a hush descended on the racetrack. Binoculars were trained on American Pharoah. Cell phone cameras were held aloft to capture the moment. On the rail in the winner’s circle, Bob Baffert leaned sideways so he could watch his colt as well as the crowd behind him. He confessed that this was the greatest moment in his career as a horse trainer to see how a knowledgeable crowd had appreciated the work of art before them.
The reverence and awe shown American Pharoah washed over him. He thought about Seabiscuit and Secretariat and more recently the great race mare Zenyatta, who drew big crowds to racetracks while running her record to 19-to-0 from 2007 to 2010.
“People want their kids to see this horse,” he said. “It means a lot to them.”
Then the trainer got quiet. He saw something in American Pharoah that concerned him. This was supposed to be an easy gallop, but Jorge Alvarez was wrestling a bit with American Pharoah. The colt was on edge. In his barn after the gallop, Baffert paraded American Pharoah in a courtyard, to the delight of fellow horsemen and news media members. When it was time for American Pharoah to return to his stall, the colt—clearly enjoying the attention—put up a fight. He stamped his feet like a child before being gently nudged. As magical as racehorses are in motion, Baffert had felt most privileged to experience American Pharoah at rest for the past year.
“I think I know how it feels to be a Secret Service agent,” he said, “and to have to protect a precious package.”
Even though both were fully aware of this historic racetrack’s reputation for felling iconic horses, the next day Baffert met Victor Espinoza beneath an oak tree in the paddock and told him if ever a horse existed that could dance atop the Graveyard of Champions, he was about to get on him and join Whirlaway (1941) as the only other Triple Crown Champion to win the Travers. He had spoken with Alvarez after the previous morning’s workout and the exercise rider conceded that American Pharoah had been keyed up and had galloped far more aggressively than he should have. Baffert blamed himself. He had sent American Pharoah to the track with Smokey, which gave the colt mixed signals. American Pharoah thought he was going to the track for a timed workout. He then was frustrated at being made to only gallop.
American Pharoah looked even fitter than he did on the first Saturday in May at Churchill Downs. He was maturing. Baffert noticed that he was growing longer and his neck, shoulder, and hip were marbled with muscle. He was the picture of a perfect racehorse. So when the gates opened to the roar of more than 50,000 people and Espinoza throttled American Pharoah past the old wooden clubhouse a comfortable length ahead of the field, Baffert had no reason to suspect that the Spa was going to add another monumental heartbreak to its résumé.
Espinoza, however, was already concerned. The colt had warmed up poorly and began to sweat as the pair made their way to the starting gate. His mane was so drenched that Espinoza had to use his whip as a squeegee to get him dry. His colt was agitated, spent, and not ready to run. American Pharoah had never been like this before. He glided him into the clubhouse turn and hoped to settle into an unhurried run down the backstretch in the hope of getting the colt to relax. Instead, he felt Jose Lezcano, the rider of Frosted, beside him, determined to make American Pharoah run hard every step of the way. He put his gray colt right on Espinoza and stayed on Pharoah’s flank like a nightclub bouncer hustling an unruly patron out the door. Not only was this a change of tactics from Frosted, who had heretofore mounted late runs to finish fourth to American Pharoah in the Derby and second in the Belmont, but also Lezcano had never been on the colt before. He had inherited the mount on Frosted a little more than an hour before the race, and only because the colt’s regular rider, Joel Rosario, fell off a horse earlier in the card and was taken to Albany Medical Center with lower back pain.
Lezcano was forcing the tempo of the race, making American Pharoah go 23.18 in the race’s third quarter mile and 23.60 in the fourth. Behind them, Javier Castellano was riding Keen Ice, another late runner, for the first time. Dale Romans, the colt’s trainer, had instructed him to change tactics as well.
“Let’s put him in the race,” Romans told Castellano before giving him a leg up.
At the half-mile pole, Espinoza knew he was in trouble. He asked American Pharoah for some oomph, but horse and rider could not separate from Frosted. The colt’s energy was not the same; he was running on fumes. Worse, Lezcano and Frosted banged into American Pharoah with enough force to knock him off stride, then continued to bounce the Triple Crown champion as if they were riding bumper cars as they dueled into the far turn. He was trying to rattle Espinoza as well as American Pharoah. He was trying to intimidate them and force them into making a mistake. It was perfectly legal and often employed in big races.
In the clubhouse, Baffert saw Espinoza struggling and American Pharoah sputtering and got worried. This was not his colt’s A game on display. “He didn’t have the power he usually has,” Baffert said. “His tank wasn’t as full as we’d hoped.”
As they turned for home, Lezcano lifted Frosted past American Pharoah, and horse and rider looked intent on turning the tables on their nemesis. American Pharoah refused to lose—he vaulted a half-length ahead as they neared the eighth pole to the full-throated roar of a crowd that sensed an upset had been thwarted.
Baffert understood American Pharoah had repelled the challenge on pure guts but doubted he could withstand another one. Closing fast were Castellano and Keen Ice. Castellano knew Frosted had softened American Pharoah up… but how much?
“When I got closer to him, and I didn’t see him take off, I knew I had a chance,” Castellano said. Keen Ice kept coming. He put a nose, a neck, and finally three-quarters of his body ahead of American Pharoah at the wire.
The final chart shows that Keen Ice covered the mile-and-a-quarter route in 2:1.57, or fast enough to earn his owners, Donegal Racing, an $850,000 first-place check. His backers scored, too, getting back $34 for a $2 bet. The history books, however, were going to tell an altogether different but epic tale about how a hallowed racetrack saw a brave performance from another Triple Crown horse but rewarded a winning one, Keen Ice.
Everyone in American Pharoah’s camp was stunned. Baffert staggered down to the track to check on his colt and talk to Espinoza.
“I’m not used to being in this position with him,” Baffert said. “It’s hard to digest right now.”
Zayat looked shell-shocked, and his family in mourning, as they made their way through the crowd to the postrace news conference. He didn’t wait for a question.
“You have to ask yourself is the show over?” he said. “Is it the time? My gut feeling, time to go out on a high note. My gut feeling right now, without being outspoken, is to retire him.”
Neither American Pharoah nor Baffert looked worn out or deflated the next morning. Outside his barn, the trainer smiled as he led his big bay colt, stopping to let a little girl feed him carrots. American Pharoah’s defeat did not stop people from wanting to catch one more glimpse of him. The colt stomped his foot once and then twice in appreciation. He was a happy horse. Baffert was disappointed but satisfied with his colt’s gritty p
erformance. He also made it clear that he didn’t want American Pharoah retired.
“He was valiant in defeat,” he said. “If he would have stopped running and finished fifth or sixth, you would have scraped me off the track. I would have been so mad at myself. You begin to feel like they’re invincible, and you forget they all get beat.”
They all do get beat at horse racing’s highest levels. Zenyatta suffered her only loss in her final start, at the 2010 Breeders’ Cup Classic. Only Personal Ensign, another great mare, managed to retire with a perfect 13-for-13 record at the sport’s elite level; she punctuated a spectacular career by capturing the Breeders’ Cup Distaff in her final start, in 1988. That is where Baffert wanted American Pharoah to say farewell—Lexington, Kentucky, on Halloween in the Breeders’ Cup Classic. He believed that the colt earned one more race to take on the best older horses in the world and to prove he was a horse for the ages.
“No regrets,” Baffert said. “I’m glad we brought him.”
He refused to blame Lezcano’s tactics for the ride.
“I found the ride a little bit odd, and it probably did both of them in, but that’s horse racing,” Baffert said. “If you can’t beat him one way, try another. We almost did it.”
American Pharoah was beaten, but he hardly embarrassed himself, and the applause that greeted him as he was led off the racetrack Saturday evening was a testament to the awe and the respect he has stirred in horse lovers. Later Saturday night, Bob and Jill Baffert were greeted with a standing ovation when they were seated for dinner at the Wishing Well, a local institution.
In fact, after sleeping on it, Baffert called it the most “positive loss” of his career. He had a plan: get the colt home to California for a couple of weeks of rest and then train him up for the Breeders’ Cup Classic for a final and potentially history-making race.
“I can do it,” Baffert said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CALIFORNIA DREAMING
October 31, 2015
When he returned to California, Bob Baffert knew he had to give American Pharoah a break from training. He had done this long enough to know that you learn more about your horse when you lose. In American Pharoah’s debut, Baffert discovered his colt was anxious when bombarded by sounds. He needed earplugs. In Saratoga, Baffert learned that American Pharoah needed his routine. Sending Smokey, the pony, to the racetrack with him for the public gallop was not the only mistake he had made. Baffert was mad at himself for putting American Pharoah on a flight to Saratoga that was stopped in Kentucky to pick up other horses. It was too much commotion for the colt. It was too much time in the air. He had upset American Pharoah’s rhythm and had paid for it.
Now he needed to shut him down. Baffert needed to completely reboot him. He began by allowing American Pharoah only light jogs, short and easy spins on the racetrack. Then, he eased the colt in with some controlled gallops. Mostly, Baffert fed him. American Pharoah needed to have his nerves calmed and some weight put back on his frame.
The goal was the Breeders’ Cup Classic on Halloween eight weeks from now. At $5 million, it was the richest race in North America and the one that annually attracted the best horses in training from around the world. It would be the first time that American Pharoah took on older horses, which was a significant step up for any three-year-old. The colt’s elders were physically more developed, mentally more experienced and battle tested. In the previous thirty Classics, three-year-olds had won it just ten times. The Breeders’ Cup was founded in 1984 with races in many divisions as a sort of series of championships to determine who was the best sprinter or turf horse, the most accomplished two-year-old, the champion filly and mare. The Breeders’ Cup had not penetrated the consciousness of casual fans as deeply as the Triple Crown races, but it offered two afternoons of the finest racing in the world that were eagerly devoured by horse aficionados around the world. Of the thirteen races, the Classic, at a mile and a quarter, was the Breeders’ Cup’s marquee race and had been previously won by a who’s who of great horses—Sunday Silence, A.P. Indy, Cigar, and Zenyatta.
For the first time ever, the Breeders’ Cup was being held at Keeneland Racecourse, 147 acres of bluegrass and limestone in the heart of America’s Thoroughbred breeding industry and the home of one of the world’s most prestigious auction houses. This was the home track of the sport’s blue blood breeders and owners. It held a race meet for three weeks each October and three weeks each April, and it was the place to be for everybody who was anybody in the Thoroughbred horse business. The irony of a former quarter horse trainer from Nogales, Arizona, bringing a Throughbred owned by an Egyptian American owner—a relative newcomer—to plunder one of the sport’s most revered cathedrals was not lost on Baffert. He knew that many of the same people for whom he had bought millions of dollars of horses on behalf of his clients might be rooting against him.
Zayat had rethought his post-Travers sentiment and decided not to retire American Pharoah as Baffert knew he would. The trainer had known the owner too long and had watched him speak before he thought things through. Zayat cried. He screamed. He lived life’s drama to its fullest. Baffert also knew that Zayat had fallen hard for his horse for reasons other than the money and the fame. One afternoon earlier in the summer, Baffert watched Zayat lie down in the stall with American Pharoah, who nuzzled and licked him. It was captured by Justin in a photograph that went viral on Twitter.
“An incredible moment,” Zayat said. “It was just total love, total passion.”
Baffert had fallen hard for the horse, too. He had been around some of the best racehorses there were and had never had one like this. American Pharoah had a security camera in his stall and sometimes, when he was away from the barn, Baffert dialed the livestream up on his phone to watch the colt and wonder what he did to deserve him. “He ships, he flies,” he said. “There’s no excuse. He just goes. He shows up. I’ve had horses that were maybe, on a given day, they were as fast as him, but they had a small window. His window has been wide open the whole time.”
Silver Charm, Real Quiet, War Emblem, and Point Given—Baffert believed he had something to do with their success. He had brought them along, figured them out, and put them in a position to succeed. He thought Bode could have trained American Pharoah. He meant it when he said it. The colt had different mechanics, was so efficient with his stride, and so determined in competition. American Pharoah was a gift from the heavens and Baffert wanted to share him. He wanted to send him out as a horse for the ages.
Zayat wanted Baffert to consider a prep race at Churchill Downs, the D. Wayne Lukas Classic on September 26. It was a mile-and-an-eighth race, and the racetrack had agreed to offer a $1 million purse if American Pharoah showed up. Baffert instead persuaded him to allow him to let American Pharoah down for a month and then train him up to the Classic. It was a similar schedule he had employed to get the colt ready for the Rebel Stakes and his Triple Crown campaign. Baffert did agree to send the colt to Churchill Downs in October to complete his final training.
One of the positive outcomes of American Pharoah losing in the Travers was that the traffic through Baffert’s barn virtually disappeared. No more lurkers trying to catch a glimpse of the Triple Crown champ. The Baffert barn had the horse back to themselves, even though they knew their days with the colt were numbered. American Pharoah’s stall was near Jimmy Barnes’s office, and he was the first horse Barnes checked in on each morning and the last he said good-bye to. He could not imagine the day the colt would be gone for good, or who might inherit his stall. Barnes knew it had to be a good one but that he would never find a better one.
Martin Garcia resumed his duties on the back of American Pharoah and at the other end of Baffert’s radio. Over fourteen months, Garcia had ridden the colt nearly thirty miles in workouts and knew better than even Victor Espinoza what he was capable of. Zayat and Baffert had thanked him publicly after each race and he had been compensated, along with all of American Pharoah’s team, with a percen
tage of the colt’s purse winnings. Did he ever stay up at night and wonder why it was not him who was aboard the horse for his historic Triple Crown campaign? He had and had come to terms with the role he had played.
“It is what it is,” he said. “Maybe with me on him, none of this would have happened.”
The month-long vacation Baffert had planned for American Pharoah was cut short by a week. He had become aggressive in the morning and clearly wanted to return to work. Baffert brought him back on September 21, and again six days later—two easy breezes to clear his lungs out. Garcia was aboard him on the morning of October 3, 2015, when Baffert got the first signal that his plan to burnish the legacy of American Pharoah was on track. It was just after 6:30 a.m. and the sun was colliding with the San Gabriel Mountains, bathing Santa Anita in the sepia tones from another era. It was the third time Garcia had been on the colt since the Travers but the first time that he felt like the American Pharoah of the spring. His bay coat shimmered and was soft to the touch and the colt felt serene and strong beneath him. Garcia and American Pharoah clicked off a swift five-eighths of a mile in :59.80, but it was the gallop out that was more telling. For the first time in months, the colt was relaxed and reaching out with his stride, asking to do more. They galloped out three-quarters of a mile in 1:12.40 and seven-eighths in 1:25.80.
The real American Pharoah was back. Baffert had booked him on a flight to Louisville in two days, but he changed his plans. He had the colt the way he wanted him. He did not need to get on another airplane yet. The weather in California was beautiful, and Kentucky was getting cold and wet. Routine. American Pharoah had one here.
“I got to trust my gut,” Baffert said.
Besides, Baffert wanted to keep him close for a few more weeks. He knew once American Pharoah went to Kentucky, he was never coming back.
“I got to trust my gut,” Baffert said.