Talk Derby to me

I've returned from the Kentucky Derby. I think. Maybe next time, I won't drink as much. Actually, we got back fairly early yesterday. I did have a good time, but I suppose I thought the Derby was going to be a little bit more than it was. I had several good friends around me, so that made the weekend more enjoyable, but i can easily see how it would be a different experience in the stands vs. in the infield. Just a few observations:

- Just never stay in a Microtel hotel. Seriously. I don't care how much cheaper it is. The place is a dump. And never, NEVER try and cram nine people into a Microtel room. It's wrong ... it's wrooooong.

- We bought tickets for the infield. Actually, I think they would've sold infield tickets to anyone in Louisville that wanted to go. They just kept cramming people in there. It really did feel like a cattle-call.

- Once we were in, I felt like I was at the state fair, not the Derby. People everywhere ... most without any shirts on. Numerous vendors hawking merchandise, food, and yes, beer. You couldn't see the track at all, so if I hadn't looked back toward the spires, I would've had no idea there was an actual grand stand.

- Speaking of the grandstands, those people dress nice. They dress really nice. Understandable. They are in the big money seats. I'd dress nice too ... if I had money enough to buy a suit like that. Anyway, the infield is a different culture. More like a rock concert. People getting piss-ass drunk and doing stupid things. But then you have these people ... people who come into the muddy infield with NICE clothes. Suits, dresses, Kenneth Cole shoes ... I mean, who does that? Word of advice ... if you go to the Derby and are in the infield, just wear shorts and a t-shirt. It is too hot and there is too much potential for getting your nice clothes dirty. This isn't rocket science.

- I couldn't see the track, but I could see the horses. Well, at least their heads. And the heads of the jockeys. As we stood at turn three during the day, you could hear the horse power but good luck trying to watch them run. Most of us were regulated to watching it on the several jumbotrons which were set-up at the turns.

- So you sit in the beating sun all day. You place bets on the horse that has the worst odds or the coolest name. You drink beer and have at least one Mint Julep. You are there, taking in the atmosphere of the big day and 15 minutes before the big race, you leave. What? Yes, people started leaving before THE Derby race. It makes no sense. They wanted to beat traffic? Not a good enough excuse. If you are there for damned 8 hours, you can waste a little more time. Stand your ass in the infield with the rest of us idiots who can't see anything and watch the tron to see if your horse actually has a shot. Don't leave early.

- As you exit the infield, you have to pass through one of the two tunnels they have from the main gates to the grass. As you pass through the tunnel closest to the 4th turn, you look up and there they are ... all of the rich people. They look down on you, literally and figuratively. They are the blessed few who found their way into the grandstand. They are rich, and they know it. It was just a strange feeling to be walking under them, as they looked down at us. A parade of the commoners. Well, at least I know where I stand. As I left the Derby, I realized I could cross one more cool event off my list. Would I do it again? Sure, but I think I'd rather sit in those rich seats. At least I'd get to look down at the commoners and remember where I came from.

I'm off to Atlanta this weekend, serving as a NCAA site rep for regional tennis at Georgia Tech. I'm excited to be able to be a part of NCAA tennis this year, even though the championships are in California. That is all thanks to Brickhouse, who hasn't forgotten me ... even though he's all big time at Georgia. It should be a good trip, and I get to spend some time with the little lady. That is always a good thing.