The Long Shot & The Favorite: The Mid-Summer Derby's Dead Heat

As the familiar tune of "The Call to Post" sliced through the sunny, August atmosphere of Saratoga Racecourse, eleven glistening horses strode their way onto the vast, dirt oval that would soon become the boxing ring for the summer's premier horse race. It was the day of the "Mid-Summer Derby"; the mile and a quarter test of champions more commonly known as the Travers Stakes. A bustling crowd of 46,528 racing fans had gathered to take part in the fun and festivities, and to hopefully witness a slice of history.

When the horses filed into the usual, crooked line of the post parade, each pranced and tossed their heads in like fashion. The 33-1 long shot, Golden Ticket, was indistinguishable from Alpha, the solid favorite. If one were to examine the athletes with neither knowledge nor racing form, it would be near impossible to sort out the frowned-upon long shots from the highly-touted kings of racing. When stripped of their resumes and expansive pedigrees, all of the contestants were simply horses. Thoroughbred racehorses, fine-tuned and conditioned from a different combination of victories and defeats, but each with the same job to do: pose in the winner's circle with the Man o' War Cup.

Alpha, owned by billionaire Sheikh Mohammed, was marching into the Grade 1 event off of a decisive score in the Jim Dandy Stakes over fellow competitors Neck 'n Neck, Liaison, Atigun and Fast Falcon. He had finished twelfth in the Kentucky Derby, but before that had conquered both the Withers Stakes and Count Fleet. As a two-year-old, he had come second to future Belmont winner Union Rags in the Grade 1 Champagne Stakes, and at one time had been considered a potential threat for the Triple Crown. Every race fan knew his name, and no matter their opinion on his past achievements, the consensus was that Alpha was much the best in the Travers Stakes.

Golden Ticket, on the other hand, was slinking along in obscurity. The bay representative of Magic City Thoroughbred Partners had slipped by with one, meager victory in his nine race career. It had taken him six times to break his maiden, and his best achievement was a runner-up finish to Prospective in the Tampa Bay Derby. Golden Ticket was coming into the Travers off of a second place finishing in an allowance optional claiming event. A few weeks back, trainer Kenneth McPeek had entered Golden Ticket in an allowance race, which was canceled due to lack of entries. Then they took to sharpening the colt for a low-profile stakes, the Bernardini -- a race also ruled out by too few contestants. The only option remaining was to saddle the colt for a mile and a quarter romp in the Travers Stakes: the biggest race of the entire summer, and one nobody thought the colt could win.

As the group of eleven three-year-olds filed into the starting gate, trainers Kenneth McPeek and Kiaran McLaughlin exchanged a few good-luck wishes. The two men were long-time friends, having grown up together in the horse country of Lexington, Kentucky. Both wanted nothing more than victory for themselves; at the same time, however, they were well aware that defeat would be a great blow for either.

 A brief silence, and the gates clanged open -- the pack of horses bolted onto the racetrack, speedy long shot Speightscity quickly lurching to the lead. The first quarter blew by in a steady 23.51. The half was up in 48, with the same horses still roaming at the front. Alpha and Golden Ticket loped along close to the pace with Stealcase bridging the gap from them to Speightscity. As the field rounded the far turn, Golden Ticket swept along the rail to snatch the lead. With a 33-1 shot heading the field in a mad dash for the finish, it was looking like the Travers Stakes might result in a huge upset. In a flash came Alpha, to defend his favoritism. The bay colt charged alongside Golden Ticket, pouring on the pressure with each stride he took. Alpha lunged. Golden Ticket bobbed his head. In the very nick of time, the wire rushed to meet them.
"It's too close to call!" Roared announcer Tom Durkin. Thousands of race fans goggled at the scene, each struggling to decide whose nose crossed first.

Golden Ticket (right) and Alpha (left) hit the wire simultaneously 

Bewildered minutes passed as the photo was examined. The two colts jogged along the racecourse, ears pricked, nostrils flared. Their riders may have quivered with uncertainty; their owners may have been counting their lucky stars. In spite of all confusion, the bay twosome trotted along in certainty of their fate. They were horses, and so far as either was concerned he had just proven himself the alpha of the group -- he had beat the rest to the wire.

Many long moments later, the crowd burst into a smattering of wild applause. The winner of the 143rd Travers Stakes was ... a dead heat. The jaw-dropping photo reveals two horses -- one owned by the Sheik, the other by a partnership -- pouncing on the wire in complete synchronization.

The two winners could be no different.
Throughout the whole of his career, Alpha had been touted an up-and-coming superstar. There had been little doubt at any time that the colt's future glittered with prestige: Grade 1 triumphs and glossy headlines were all part of his birthright. Golden Ticket was his polar opposite; the obscure wonder horse who leaped onto the national scene with a single, scintillating performance. While Alpha had legions of fans to back him throughout the better part of his career, Golden Ticket was newly minted into the club of Thoroughbred superiority.

In the absence of I'll Have Another, Union Rags, Paynter, and Bodemeister, the 2012 rendition of the Travers Stakes may have been lacking in the star-power department. But in the deliverance of the first dead heat in the race's modern history, this gritty, little pack of three-year-olds more than made up for their drab resumes and uninspiring time. This year's Mid-Summer Derby succeeds where the blue-blooded world of Thoroughbred horse racing rarely does: it told a story of a hard-trying underdog, an up-and-coming star, and a dose of good racing luck. It told us that no matter where you come from or what the tote board reads, you always have a shot at tasting success: be you the homeless man on the corner of the street or the one in the new Ferrari.