They rightfully call the Kentucky Derby the greatest two minutes in sports, a mere snapshot of America’s oldest sport. In 1956, however, another American original, the writer John Steinbeck, tried to quantify this annual Calvary charge in the lyrical language it deserved.
"During Derby Week, Louisville is the capital of the world," he wrote. "The Kentucky Derby, whatever it is — a race, an emotion, a turbulence, an explosion — is one of the most beautiful and violent and satisfying things I have ever experienced."
Last year, for example, 153,563 people gathered beneath Churchill Downs’ iconic twin spires on Derby Day and bet $21 million. Throw in the wagers that came in from far-flung tracks, off-site betting parlors and online, and $155.9 million was bet on Derby Day, $104.5 million alone on America’s greatest race. It costs NBC $7 million annually for the rights to the broadcast, and last year 16.3 million viewers watched the tiny gelding, Mine That Bird, romp home first to capture the blanket of roses.
More than $127 million was paid out to those holding winning tickets for Mine That Bird. There weren’t many of them: The gelding went off at stratospheric odds of 50-1, which meant he paid $103.20 for a mere $2 bet.
So you own the horse that won the Derby: How much is that worth?
As for the rest of us, we need sustenance to spend a whole day gambling with both hands. Last year, 142,000 hot dogs, 18,000 barbecue sandwiches and 1,892 sheets of Derby pie were consumed. Best of all, Churchill Downs needed 7,800 liters of bourbon to serve 120,000 Mint Juleps.
This isn’t exactly Steinbeckian … But as they have been saying down here in Louisville for 136 years: Happy Derby!
