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"  Attending the Kentucky Derby is a sweaty, mud speckled, festooned carnival of contraction. Objectively speaking, there is no draw. You can&amp;#039;t get near the rail \u2014 too many Joes in their once yearly parade of seersucker, that ocean of big hats, the sickening cling of bourbon in the air and on the breath of frat boys in pink button down shirts. Yuck. If it rains, and it often does, forget it. Your white bucks are shot, your seat is perpetually taken by some denim wearing rube from a ragged Yankee swamp like Syracuse, and the wetness in the air keeps any part of you from feeling elegant, tucked in, managed, in what should be a celebration of Spring. To say things are cheek by jowl at Churchhill Downs on Derby Day, is to do a disservice to the description of any gathering of the porcine. It is impossibly so. And yet. And yet. The day matters. It marks an arrival of hope, a rite of spring, and constitutes the New Years Day of Sports \u2014 since it is brief, and because horses, like athletes, are mystically puzzling. And because the build up is so vast, while the race itself is so brief that men have missed it for the cause of a cigarette. The day can be unpleasant, yes, as can any picnic or pastoral. We must bet against the nature of the season, and hope for no more a sunny day, a good tip. The costumes harken summer. Every year, it&amp;#039;s something: the last stand for bow ties, boat hats, wicker canes, white belts, once-a-year money clips, doughy with 20&amp;#039;s. None of it can possibly matter, and yet everything does, because everyone there leans forward in expectation. There is hope, both modestly human \u2014 just a sunny day! \u2014 and greedy for something ageless \u2014 a brilliant effort, or two of them \u2014 eight! \u2014 by animals, with motivations which seem inexplicably akin to our own. Horses want to win. The race is a promise. And it is so brief. Marking the imperfect nature of Spring, with its mud and tender lawns, and harkening the ruddy summer. And yes, while being there is crowded, and watching it may seem just a snap of the fingers, the Derby means something. Everyone dresses up, everyone has a tip, and everyone, every horse, has a chance. The beginning of things. Once again. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/sports/a22480/tom-chiarella-kentucky-derby/?click=news>