Kentucky Derby: Stop and smell the roses

There is an old saying that if you have not been to Churchill Downs on the first Saturday in May, “you ain’t been nowhere and you ain’t seen nothin’.’’ This sentiment harkens back to a time when the Kentucky Derby and the sport of thoroughbred racing were embedded deep within American popular culture. That era, as evoked in “Seabiscuit,’’ has been receding into an irretrievable past. Yet for all the changes in Americans’ entertainment tastes, and despite the economic woes of the racing industry, something of the old romance of America’s great race will be rekindled at the moment this year’s field of three-year-old thoroughbreds parades to the post for today’s Derby.

The grandstand at the historic track in Louisville will be jammed to the rafters and festive throngs will be milling about the infield. In the clubhouse, old wealth will rub shoulders with the nouveau riche. Celebrities and plain folks will be rooting for their Derby selections with equal zeal. For that most exciting two minutes in sport, spectators at the track and TV viewers alike can feel something of the exhilaration their forebears felt watching Citation or Secretariat come pounding down the homestretch.

There may be no Secretariats in this year’s crop, and a single race, even the Derby, can hardly provide a magical cure for the dwindling attendance at American tracks or the continuing decline in the yearly foal crop. But the spectacle itself remains what it has always been: a sporting metaphor for all the other contests of life, a complex test of the bettor’s analytical capabilities, a fleeting aesthetic experience shared by multitudes.