ESPN Horse Racing

ESPN's Kenny Mayne finds a par-3 unlike any other during his visit to South Africa.

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To check out more of Mayne's travels, go to our site.

A long, long time ago, when this project was just a bunch of phone calls and desperate emails to bosses, there finally came a day when one of the men on high told us to go make things happen. Just make it happen in a week. We needed someplace foreign and interesting, but also fairly local. Canada was close, but we're more ambitious than that. Plus, by picking London, the most expensive city in the world, they might look the other way if one day we bought an elephant in Thailand.

In England, the crew bought me a cricket uniform and I learned how to play that ancient (some might call it "boring") game. We also went to the Lion's Den, a very exciting stadium where the Millwall Football Club does business and its rowdy fans are reputed to do bad things. We took the risk and lived to tell the tale.

To read more about my trips, check it out here.

This story appears in the Aug. 22, 2011 issue of ESPN The Magazine.

The last fight I remember getting into was in seventh grade. Dennis Doran and I were below-average basketball players, and we were scrapping at the gym in order to make our mark in a pickup game. Things escalated from there. It wasn't much of a fight, something just short of when relief pitchers jog to the mound from the bullpen and pretend to join a brawl. But still.

So nearly 40 years later, a guy standing two feet away at a restaurant in Saratoga Springs, N.Y., is preparing to take a swing at me. What incensed him was that on TV just one week earlier, I'd had the nerve to say nice things about California's storied Del Mar Thoroughbred Club.

I tried to explain how I felt that it's okay to have strong feelings for both Del Mar and Saratoga, but this guy, as a devout Saratoga fan, felt violated. He backed off eventually -- he'd probably heard of my draw vs. Doran during the Ali-Frazier era -- but his wounds were apparent, because Saratoga is as much a feeling as it is a place.

There's something important going on there, and just by being in town during the 40-day meet, you are a part of it. The racing, which moves north from Belmont Park in mid-July, culminates in late August, when the top 3-year-olds in the country come to Saratoga for the Travers Stakes, aka the Midsummer Derby. As legendary Saratoga rider John Velazquez tells me, "This is where the best horses, best trainers and best jockeys come. And if you want to shine, this is the place."

I'd heard of Saratoga while growing up some 3,000 miles away in Seattle. It seemed a distant, mythical place. The kind of place where Seabiscuit raced. The kind of place Carly Simon referred to in song. Horse racing's Hall of Fame is across the street, for goodness' sake, so it had to be a big deal. And it's been so for a long time. The war between the states was raging when Saratoga opened in 1863, and the North deserved one hell of a track.

Editor's note: Kenny used all caps so as to be noticed.

NOT SAYING ESPN THOUGHT LITTLE OF MY HARD WORK THIS WEEK, BUT IF I'M NOT MISTAKEN, MY 12 LITTLE VIDEO HITS FOR THE 143RD BELMONT STAKES WERE FOUND UNDER "OTHER SPORTS." HOW WOULD I KNOW? I DON'T EVEN OWN A COMPUTER ANY LONGER. THE LAST FIVE BLEW UP, AND I'M NOT GOING TO SUPPORT A DYING INDUSTRY ANY LONGER.

DID SOMEONE SAY DYING INDUSTRY?

THAT'S WHAT THEY SAY OFTEN ABOUT MY SECOND-FAVORITE SPORT (TO TACKLE FOOTBALL, C'MON).

EACH YEAR, THE LAME STORY IS TROTTED OUT ONCE AGAIN … SADLY … EVEN BY THOSE WHO CLAIM TO FOLLOW THE GAME, THAT HORSE RACING NEEDS A TRIPLE CROWN WINNER SO AS TO SAVE ITSELF.

YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING HOW I AM TYPING THIS IF I DON'T OWN A COMPUTER. I MAKE FAST FRIENDS. FRIENDS FAST. PLUS, THE GIRL WHO REALLY OWNS THIS MACHINE IS A HORSE NUT. SHE'S HERE AT BELMONT PARK. SHE EVEN PUT OUT AND WORE A HAT. THAT'S DEDICATION. HATS ARE MEANT FOR THE KENTUCKY DERBY OR MAYBE THE PREAKNESS, WHEN THERE'S STILL HOPE FOR SAVING THIS SPORT.

BUT NOT NOW. NOT HERE. WITH THE SPLIT OF THE FIRST TWO LEGS (ANIMAL KINGDOM, THEN SHACKLEFORD), THERE AGAIN WOULD NOT BE A TRIPLE CROWN WINNER, AFFIRMED BEING THE LAST TO PULL IT OFF BACK IN 1978.

THING IS, WHETHER THERE HAD BEEN ANOTHER TRIPLE CROWN WINNER THIS YEAR OR NOT, THE ONLY IMPACT AFTER THE FACT WOULD BE THAT TIME MAGAZINE WOULD PUT THE ANIMAL ON ITS COVER. THE U.S. SPORTING PUBLIC WOULD NOT HAVE RUSHED OUT THE DAY AFTER TO THE LOCAL TRACKS, SO INSPIRED OVER THE FEAT.

LIKEWISE, WHEN SUNDAY COMES AROUND, THOSE WHO WERE GOING TO GO ARE GOING TO GO, THOSE WHO WERE GOING TO BET ON THEIR COMPUTERS OR THEIR PHONES OR IN LAS VEGAS ARE GOING TO DO THAT.

THAT IS TO SAY, THE THRILL IS IN THE CHASE. PRETTY MUCH LIKE ANYTHING ELSE.

WITH NO TRIPLE CROWN ON THE LINE SATURDAY AT BELMONT PARK, THE BEST THE RACING PR MACHINE COULD KICK OUT WAS THE OBVIOUS -- A RUBBER MATCH BETWEEN THE DERBY AND PREAKNESS WINNERS. NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT, BUT I MIGHT HAVE GONE WITH SOMETHING EVEN MORE SELF-EVIDENT. THE SELLING TOOL I WOULD HAVE USED IS: 12 HORSES ARE GOING TO RUN A MILE AND A HALF AT STORIED BELMONT PARK, SITE OF SECRETARIAT'S ROMP, IN SOMETHING CALLED THE BELMONT STAKES. IT'S A GRADE 1. IT'S WORTH A LOT OF MONEY. THOUSANDS WILL COME, MILLIONS WILL WATCH. AND SUNDAY, SOME OF THEM WILL COME BACK AND WATCH LESSER HORSES HERE AND AT LESSER TRACKS.

FOR SOME REASON, PROBABLY A COMMITTEE WAS INVOLVED, THE RACING GAME HAS FOR YEARS AND YEARS CONCERNED ITSELF GREATLY WITH ALL THOSE WHO DON'T CARE FOR HORSE RACING RATHER THAN CONCERNING ITSELF WITH THOSE WHO DO. (IDEA NO. 1 -- FREE ADMISSION)

I'M JUST ONE GUY HERE FROM KENT, WASH., BUT I DID GROW UP GOING TO A HELL OF A TRACK SOUTH OF SEATTLE. IT WAS CALLED LONGACRES. THE BOEING COMPANY BOUGHT IT ONE DAY AND TORE IT DOWN. BOEING DOES MAKE NICE AIRPLANES. IT WAS BOEING'S PROPERTY. BUT IN ALL MY YEARS GROWING UP NEAR SEATTLE, I'D NEVER HEARD ANYONE COMMENT ON BOEING'S LOVE FOR HORSE RACING (OTHER THAN HAVING A STAKES RACE NAMED FOR IT). IT'S A BIT LIKE HOW THE STARBUCKS GUY SOLD THE SONICS TO PEOPLE WHO AREN'T FROM SEATTLE. IN OTHER WORDS, TWO OF THE GREAT LOVES OF MY LIFE WERE SOLD TO PEOPLE WHO HAD ABSOLUTELY NO INTEREST IN CONTINUING THOSE PROPERTIES IN MY HOMETOWN. THEY HAD MADE INVESTMENTS, SURE. BUT THEY WEREN'T INVESTED IN THE IDEA OF MAINTAINING THOSE TWO GREAT TRADITIONS.

THERE ARE ALL SORTS OF HORSE RACE FANS WHO ARE FULLY INVESTED. SOME OF THEM INVEST TOO MUCH (PAY YOUR REAL BILLS FIRST, KIDS), BUT NEARLY ALL OF THEM HAVE AN UNENDING APPRECIATION OF THE TRADITIONS AND THRILLS THIS SPORT HAS TO OFFER. THEY'RE EVEN READING THIS RIGHT NOW, EVEN IF ESPN BURIED IT UNDER "OTHER SPORTS." HOW WOULD I KNOW? I DON'T HAVE A COMPUTER. PLUS, I WROTE IT. THIS STORY IS DEAD TO ME. BUT THE SPORT ISN'T. NO MATTER WHO WON, I WANTED MASTER OF HOUNDS TO CROSS THE LINE FIRST. Editor's note: Kenny picked at 6:05 p.m. ET.

LIKE ZENYATTA'S (YOU CAN GOOGLE HER) TRAINER JOHN SHIRREFFS TOLD ME A FEW WEEKS BACK, "WE NEED TO STOP LAMENTING THE FACT THE GAME ISN'T AS POPULAR AS IT ONCE WAS BUT KEEP IN MIND IT'S BEEN GOING FOR FIVE OR SIX HUNDRED YEARS. WE'RE STILL GOING."

THAT WE ARE. WITH RULER ON ICE THE WINNER OF THE 143RD BELMONT STAKES. NEXT YEAR WILL COME THE WINNER OF THE 144TH BELMONT STAKES. MAYBE HE'LL HAVE WON THE TRIPLE CROWN. MAYBE SHE'LL HAVE DONE SO.

I'LL WATCH IF I AM THE LAST ONE.

TRADITIONALIST.

BALTIMORE -- With no TV to do this week, I spent a lot of time around the Preakness Stakes barn. There was plenty of information to be had. The difficulty, of course, was determining which of it to use.

I am walking out of the track in better shape -- not financially. I don't have to tell my wife to choose plastic for flooring when we move, but neither are we paying for upgrades with any investments made Saturday.

I am doing better thanks to the trainer of Mr. Commons, John Shirreffs. He took pity on my limp Friday (an arthritic condition from a fracture-dislocation, plus eight surgeries) and brought me into his barn. First he applied some liniment (just like I was a slower and smaller version of Zenyatta), then he brought out the magic machine -- not "a machine." Those are illegal horse zappers. This was for therapy only. And it worked. God knows what it does but I trust John Shirreffs. Something about electrons and cells. I think he said that. I took it for the night and walked it back to John trackside at 6 a.m. Saturday. Walked it back pain free.

Pain came later.

Back at the barn mid-card, I checked in with Dale Romans. "I'm alive on the pick four," I told him. "Your horse is a single, right?"

The pick four is simple as it sounds: Pick four winners in a row. The favored way is to single a horse (or more) along the way, leaving money management space to play multiple horses in other legs and catch a large price.

So, I asked Romans if his horse was good enough to be a single choice. I was speaking, of course, of heavy favorite Paddy O'Prado in the 11th race. But Romans responded "Shackleford?" And he didn't seem to be kidding. He didn't seem to be kidding at all when I asked, "Are you kidding?" I knew that because he said, "No."

That's the kind of information I like to use. In stories. Later. Long after it would have made me 12-1 money.

I was already using the obvious animal. The Derby winner Animal Kingdom made sense and missed by a half-length. Mucho Macho Man seemed logical but was good only for sixth place. All week I was looking for a bigger-price horse and Romans had given it to me, singly. He was the only one who said it quite that way. But he did nothing for my ankle. Shirreffs doesn't enter Grade 1 races to get his name in the paper. Certainly not for the mere Internet. He had to be here for a reason. I mean, how did he know my ankle sucked? I played his horse a bit. He came home in eighth place.

I'm going home with a wealth of knowledge. We can take money out of a machine and feel better about how some of mine was distributed to others.

Pain free, guilt free, I am walking out of here -- in the direction of Belmont Park. Even Dale Romans can't say that for sure.

You want to end your day filling out forms. The government kind. Always bring your Social Security card to the track because you'll need it to cash trifectas and superfectas like the ones from today's Kentucky Derby.

But I was filling out forms at 9:30 a.m. I'd hit the front end of the Oaks/Derby double, thanks to Bob Baffert's Plum Pretty on Friday. Minutes later, I wanted to brag to Hank Goldberg of my position in racing except I had no ticket to show. It was in the garbage, I believe, under plates of press box food. My pal Rolly Hoyt slyly moved the can around the corner and out of view of the scribes so I could dig through. Having worked in the garbage industry in my youth, I liked my chances. As I pulled tickets from the inside of ham sandwiches, I felt no humiliation. In fact, the only embarrassment was that I'd worked on the can away from the other members of the working media. Each and every one of them would have dug through a landfill in order to secure a ticket with a chance at being worth something north of $1,000.

Before any pride surfaced I learned there's a way to recover a lost ticket other than digging through a garbage can away from the view of people who would also dig through that same can were they alive to five horses in the Kentucky Derby. The good people of Kentucky informed me a visit to Guest Services would begin the process toward recovering my investment. Only the Guest Relations office had closed.

At 9:30 it was wide open. Forms filled, I was nearing complete recovery. Master of Hounds, Mucho Macho Man, Midnight Interlude, Soldat and Nehro were my five. When once I was deep into a barrel of trash, I was now just nine hours from world domination, a winner of the Oaks-Derby double.

Johnny Velazquez was low Friday as well. Not trash bin low, but low. His runner, Uncle Mo, the runaway winner of the Breeders' Cup Juvenile here at Churchill last November, had scratched. This was a horse many once believed to be a true Triple Crown threat, something not accomplished since Affirmed did so in 1978. Uncle Mo hadn't looked like that 2-year-old phenom this spring and now an unexplained illness had Velazquez without a mount.

But longshot Animal Kingdom needed a rider. Robby Albarado was injured this week and the Animal Kingdom connections called on Velazquez to step in.

This Derby had been described as being wide open. Just like a bunch of them. Just like the one in which Barbaro won by 6½ lengths. But this time people meant it. The players didn't seem to know what to make of it because by the time the gates opened, it seems the fans had voted more than wagered. The female jockey, Rosie Napravnik, good as she is, had drawn all sorts of support from people who like female jockeys. Pants on Fire, once 20-1, closed at 8-1. Calvin Borel, good as he is, and winner of three of the last four Derbys, took action to make his 20-1 horse Twice the Appeal an 11-1 proposition as well.

Animal Kingdom received support, I guess, because of the TV show, Animal Kingdom. Wait, that was Wild Kingdom.

He moved from 30-1 to 20-1 at the close. This was his fifth lifetime start and his greatest accomplishment to date had been a Grade 3 win at Turfway Park, close by Northern Kentucky Airport, if you ever miss a flight. But other than that there was little to recommend. Animal Kingdom had never raced on dirt. Turf and fake dirt, sure. But not the kind of dirt God had intended animals to run on while humans gambled. Stupid, digging-through-garbage humans.

One of my five was Nehro. And turning for home it appeared the trash experience and the time spent filling out the 1040-style Customer Services form was well worth it. Corey Nakatani had my horse moving toward the lead in deep stretch. Five times the $2 Oaks/Derby double would be mine, to say nothing of complementary plays in the exacta and trifecta arenas.

But John Velazquez had no interest in any of that. Johnny V had never won a Kentucky Derby, and he'd lost his best chance to date at winning one when Uncle Mo scratched. But now he had Nehro measured. He had my tickets in the trash, something that'll be long forgotten at Pimlico in two weeks. For, as Nick Zito often says, "you can't even lose if you don't enter." He did, with the favorite, Dialed In, and finished eighth. But then, Dialed In only won the Florida Derby.

Animal Kingdom won the damn Spiral at Turfway Park. Plus there was that TV show. To say nothing of Johnny Velazquez, whose Friday was long forgotten on Saturday.

Me? I'm about to throw more tickets in the trash. There's no shame in betting the 12th and 13th races after the Derby. I'm fully entered in this Triple Crown. The Preakness is just two weeks away.

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LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- Thoughts from Churchill Downs, Saturday at 9 a.m.

• Breeders' Cup bosses probably don't want a jockey fight in every race, but in their hearts they know they owe Calvin Borel a consulting and/or promotional fee. If people didn't know about the Breeders' Cup before, they do now.

• If the stewards are always supposed to make a ruling that results in the fairest thing possible, maybe there should have been a refund for anyone holding tickets on Life At Ten in the Ladies' Classic. She ran like Life At One Hundred Ten. Her jockey, Johnny Velazquez, gave no assurance in the warm-up that she'd perform any better. Those who suffered for owning worthless tickets on her yesterday ought to be blessed with good fortune today.

• Looking forward to our annual discussion with Britain's ambassador of racing, John McCririck. He'll liven things up as only a jockey fight can.

• I'm likely rooting for but betting against Zenyatta. Blame is most logical to upset. Why logic has any place in this argument, I have no idea. No matter the results … their coats will be shiny. I left mine at home. It's 32 degrees. Time to get hot.

LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, Wednesday, 9:20 p.m. PT -- Another Santa Anita Breeders' Cup would have been so convenient, racetrack conditions aside. But I'd fly overnight via Charlotte to be a part of this. I would take a four-stop, Southwest Airlines-seating Zone 5 flight just to be in on this. It's the Breeders' Cup, damn it! It means so much that I am blogging about it on a hand-held Google machine and still making the effort to put the apostrophe after the S in "Breeders'."

A misplaced apostrophe is the least of our identity problems. I ate lunch today at my new favorite barbecue spot, The Smokin' Joint. The manager asked how I liked the food, then said, "I don't know if you're into sports, but on the weekend we show all the games." I told him I don't live here and said I'd be at the BC. He asked, "What's that?"

Those who get it really get it. We get that these are far and away the two best days of the year in racing. Maybe the two best days period.

But the shared experience means so much more. So until that BBQ manager, who asked me whether I like sports, comes on board with us, it will be a lot like the first few days after someone buys a new album. (You remember those.) You make your friends listen to it. You want them to get it with you. I recall doing this in the early 1970s when my dual loves of racing and Stevie Wonder were just beginning. Oddly enough, Wonder was being shown in concert on the same big screen that will show sports this weekend while BBQ is served. I should have told that BBQ manager to listen to my music. Listen to Jeff Beck tear it up for Stevie. Maybe we could have been in agreement on our appreciation of the music I listen to. And maybe we could have agreed that when they show a lot of sports there this weekend, a race or two will get high consideration. We'll cover the placement of apostrophes over ribs another day.