Culture

He’s just one of dozens of cameramen, photographers, and journalists who jockey for position near the Stakes Barn on Pimlico’s backstretch on the eve of the 131st running of the Preakness Stakes, the third jewel in the Visa Triple Crown.

They await the arrival of Kentucky Derby-winner Barbaro, who, two weeks prior, had thundered across the finish line in the fastest final quarter mile since Secretariat in 1973, and had done so by six-and-ahalf lengths, the largest margin of victory in 60 years. Going into the Preakness, he’s a 1-1 favorite.

“When’s the horse getting here?” asks another cameraman, to which a track official replies, “Listen, it’s a horse.We’re trying to keep it simple.”

Barbaro is en route from the Fair Hill Training Center in Cecil County, where he’s been trained by Michael Matz, a former show-jumper, Olympic medalist, and true hero— in 1989, he saved three children and an infant when a United flight they were all aboard went down in an Iowa cornfield.

Heroes sometimes show up when you need them.

Around 2:30 p.m. on Friday, Barbaro arrives, and all eyes are on this big, magnificent animal. With his veins pulsing and massive blocks of muscle twitching, the dark bay colt looks like the heavyweight champion of the world. This is the horse that many are predicting to be the first Triple-Crown winner since Affirmed in 1978, the horse who will join an elite group that began with Sir Barton in 1919.

Quoted in the previous day’s Baltimore Sun, jockey Jeremy Rose, who rode Afleet Alex to victory in the 2005 Preakness, says of Barbaro: “He’s an absolute monster. Unless something catastrophic happens… everything is in his favor to win the Triple Crown.”

Less than 24 hours later, the catastrophic happens.

By the time Pimlico's gates open at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday, the horses running in today’s 13 races, including the nine vying for the Preakness’ Woodlawn Trophy and a chance to wear a blanket of black-eyed Susans, have already had their workouts and returned to their stalls.

Thousands of spectators file into Pimlico. From the grandstand to the infield, the party at “Old Hill Top” has begun. The weather is perfect, and it looks like a beautiful day for racing.

Despite all the festivities, despite the media frenzy of lights and cameras and mobile satellite dishes, there’s a serenity to the backstretch, where the business of tending to and preparing horses for racing goes on as usual, not just for those running today, but for the trainers who stable their horses at Pimlico throughout the year.

An hour before the first race, inside Barn A, far from the hoopla, the grooms muck out stalls, horses snort and clop their hooves, chickens cluck and roosters crow, and pigeons flutter about as a black and- white cat slinks around a corner. Just outside the first stall, trainer Casey Randall sits in a wooden office surrounded by tack hanging on the walls. In his faded jeans, sweat-stained ball cap, and muddy boots, he strikes a sharp contrast to the pageantry of the fancy springtime dresses and flower-adorned hats that move through the grandstand.

“This is typical of a race day,” Randall says, referring to the quiet surrounding the barns. “The morning work is done. You try to keep your horses in a routine, and part of that routine is a quiet time so they’ll rest.”