Hollins Reunion

Stepping back on the Hollins University campus ten years after saying goodbye was, to say the least, surreal. For two days the outside world peeled away at the edges and tucked itself behind the corners of Front Quad, and the perfect world I inhabited for four of the best years of my life sprang from memory into the present tense. It hit me over and over – walking into West, distracted by conversation with friends I had not seen in years, and finding myself standing in front of the door of my old room. Strolling over to Moody for lunch and seeing a cluster of old classmates lounging on the front steps. Sitting in the rocking chairs of Main, watching the rays of a setting sun gloss that vibrant green grass with a shade of gold – the ultimate Hollins paintbrush. Everything that should have felt remote after ten years’ time felt familiar and natural – this is a place that remembered us, and now welcomed us back with open arms.  

  

Spending those few days with people that I loved in a place that had such an impact on me then, now, and every day of my future, was like taking a deep breath. Take a moment away from the busy humdrum of life to think about where I came from, where I’m going, and what it all means. I came to Hollins looking for an education, a means to an end, a springboard to get me out there to make my mark on the world. But what I got was so much more than that. Hollins became a symbol, a spirit, an ingrained experience that touched every facet of my life. Ten years later it still shapes the way I see and interact with the world.

The friends that I made the first day I set foot in Tinker 3C are people that I can pick right up with where I left off, even if years have gone by without the regular conversations we enjoyed as students. There was something so “Hollins” about us, a closeness that transcends anything that any of my non-Hollins friends experienced at other universities of any size in any place. Even today, despite the distance between us, the different trajectories our lives have taken, the inevitable lapses of communication, there is not one of these women who to this day does not know me better than I know myself. I was told once that the definition of a “best” friend was someone you could call in the middle of the night for help with no questions asked. There are women I went to school with here who I could call from across the country, even if we hadn’t talked in years, and if need be they would hop on the next plane. I know this because it’s what I would do for them – no questions asked. To me it’s a unique and treasured byproduct of an all-women’s institution - we learn more about ourselves and each other than most people ever dream of.  

That same environment that builds everlasting friendships has a similar impact on our education. Those today who scoff at liberal arts miss the point of what they are for – we are not here to be spoon fed information that we can then regurgitate to earn a paycheck. We are not aiming for a narrow circle in the center of a target. The professors at Hollins pride themselves on teaching us to think, to gather information, dissect it in a way that is meaningful and use it to form arguments and opinions. We are trained to listen and seek out different perspectives, but we are also prepared to stand up and vehemently defend values and beliefs that we earned though that painstaking process. 

Our minds become our greatest asset – here we are given the tools to create any future we want for ourselves, a goal that every professor on campus reflects. Their devotion to us, their passion for what they can offer and how it can get us closer to that goal is unparalleled.  Day in and day out they leave a lasting, powerful impression on their students – the kind of impression that drives you to greater things. I had no interest in economics, but someone told me I had to take a course with Juergen Fleck, and I remember it to this day. I was neither a history major or minor, but I took three courses with Peter Coogan because I wanted to learn everything I could from him, no matter what the subject was. Little did I know that when I took a seat in a cavernous room in Dana for my first Creative Writing course with Pinckney Benedict, my life was about to change.

Not only were these professors impassioned about education, but they were impassioned about educating women. At Hollins there was no talk about breaking glass ceilings, because here they don’t exist. Here we were emboldened to find out what we wanted and to go get it. When you are taught over and over that there are no barriers by people who believe it, they are that much easier to walk right through when you find them in the real world.

The notion of all-women’s education is a more difficult sell today than it ever has been, and that’s a shame. I firmly believe that were it not for that aspect of Hollins life, my time there would have nowhere near the resonance that it does, and I’m not alone. During the Parade of Classes generations of Hollins women laughed and cheered with one another, echoing eight decades of the same joy. From class lounge to class lounge we were greeted with an instant familiarity and understanding of Reunion’s significance. For these few days all of us, from the class of 1948 to the class of 2011, existed in a time warp – transported back to those blissful days at Hollins when we became the women who, generations later, are still going places.

For those who came to Reunion, it was great to see you. For those who could not, we missed you and thought of you. For the professors who got us here, thank you. For those who work hard every day to make Hollins great, know that it was and still is worth it. I'm blessed to have been apart of it as a student and now as an alum. Consider this my RSVP for Reunion 2018.

Kentucky Derby 2013

For what it's worth, here is how I see this year's field:

1. Black Onyx (Joe Bravo, Kelly Breen) 50-1

Won the Spiral at Turfway over a weak field, but could have been a nice super longshot (especially in the exotics) but that was before he landed the 1 hole. Too bad, because he’s a pretty, pretty boy.

2. Oxbow (Gary Stevens, D. Wayne Lukas) 30-1

Ran a nice race in the Rebel but was 5^th in the Arkansas Derby. Gary Stevens says he learned a lot and plans to ride him differently on Saturday. Pros: Gary Stevens has returned to the Kentucky Derby, and he’s riding for D. Wayne Lukas. Sound familiar? Cons: Hasn’t gotten a great clocker’s report from Churchill, and the 2 hole means he could get crushed out of the gate.

3. Revolutionary (Calvin Borel, Todd Pletcher) 10-1

Won the Louisiana Derby in a close one over My Lute. Has looked good at Churchill all week. He’s one of the Pletcher Circus and will be down on the rail with Calvin Borel. Because of Calvin, he’ll get mugged at the windows.

4. Golden Soul (Robby Albarado, Dallas Stewart) 50-1

Ran 4^th in the Louisiana Derby. A win by him would be about as shocking as Mine That Bird in 2009, but after that happened I learned not to say “This horse can only win if the other starting gates don’t open.”

5. Normandy Invasion (Javier Castellano, Chad Brown) 12-1

I will admit, I am totally biased to this horse. That said, he’s looked great at Churchill, Chad Brown is as hot of a trainer as can be right now, and I believe this is his first Derby. He was a steadily closing second in the Wood Memorial to undefeated Verrazano and ran against a slow pace. He might have to do that again here, so the question is whether he can stay out of traffic and get a clear run. He’s my pick. Unfortunately he’s a “hot” horse for a lot of people, so that 12-1 is probably an overlay.

6. Mylute (Rosie Napravnik, Tom Amoss) 15-1

He was a nice second to Revolutionary in the Louisiana Derby, and could very well be a nice live long shot. I think the 15-1 will go up, unless everyone backs him because of Rosie Napravnik, who has come out as a racing celebrity in addition to being a damned good jockey. Reports from Churchill indicate he looks great and is ready to go.

7. Giant Finish (Jose Espinosa, Anthony Dutrow) 50-1

This horse is only running because his owner declared “You only live once.”

8. Goldencents (Kevin Krigger, Doug O'Neill) 5-1

I ignored the Santa Anita Derby winner last year and he won, and I’m ignoring him again this year. If I have to see Rick Pitino in the winner’s circle I might throw myself off a bridge. What sucks is the lack of speed in this race will probably set him up really well.

9. Overanalyze (Rafael Bejarano, Todd Pletcher) 15-1

Wanna go out on a limb? Of Todd Pletcher’s army he might be the best value. Not a lot of buzz about the Arkansas Derby winner, who many think is too slow. But he ran a 99 Beyer as a 2 year old and beat Normandy Invasion in the Remsen. He’ll be higher than 15-1 by the time the gates open (probably a lot higher), and it’s not impossible he could pull it off.

10. Palace Malice (Mike Smith, Todd Pletcher) 20-1

Finished up the track in the Louisiana Derby after a bad trip then wheeled around to be second by a neck in the Bluegrass to Java’s War. I have not had good luck with Bluegrass form transferring to the Derby (with the exception of my bro Dullahan). Hard to know how good he is and whether he likes dirt. I know he’s a Curlin, but his female family screams turf.  Of Pletcher’s mob I’m least interested. Though it’s a fun name, and hey, Mike Smith.

11. Lines of Battle (Ryan Moore, Aidan O'Brien) 30-1

I know pretty much nothing about this horse. He comes from overseas, and haven’t heard anyone say much of anything about him.

12. Itsmyluckyday (Elvis Trujillo, Eddie Plesa, Jr.) 15-1

This horse has a lot of buzz on the backside. A lot of people like him, but he’s not caught a lot of “mainstream” attention, and therefore might be the best bang for your buck. He won the Holy Bull down at Gulfstream but got run down by Orb in the Florida Derby. Also ran back to back 100+ Beyer speed figures at Gulfstream before the Florida Derby. If he’s not the only horse to do that this year, he’s one of the only ones. Classy horse, likes to lay just off the pace. This post position should suit him well. 

13. Falling Sky (Luis Saez, John Terranova II) 50-1

This is probably the horse we’ll see on the lead. We last saw him running 5^th to Overanalyze in the Arkansas Derby, and before that he was third to Verrazano and Java’s War in the Tampa Bay Derby. He’s a nice horse but 1 ¼ miles is probably not for him. Takes a pretty special horse to wire the field, but even in a year that will be favorable to front runners I don’t think he’s the next War Emblem.   

14. Verrazano (John Velazquez, Todd Pletcher) 4-1

This was your Derby favorite until everyone developed an obsession for Orb. Despite being undefeated I’ve hardly heard this name at all this week, which is good news for people who like him as he might actually wind up being an underlay. He won the Wood Memorial after duking things out with Normandy Invasion and Vyjack down the stretch. No reason not to like him. I’ll probably overlook him. Hey, I overlooked Gemologist last year and it didn’t hurt me. Who’s Gemologist, you ask? Exactly.

15. Charming Kitten (Edgar Prado, Todd Pletcher) 20-1

My standard “Always Bet the Kitten Horse” rule does not apply at the Kentucky Derby. This horse’s first two starts this year were on turf, including a win in his daddy’s race (the Kitten’s Joy) back in January. He then switched to Polytrack when he ran 3^rd in the Bluegrass. Hasn’t run on dirt. Neither did Animal Kingdom, you ask? Yeah, well, that was Animal Kingdom. I picked Animal Kingdom. Not picking the Kitten.

16. Orb (Joel Rosario, Shug McGaughey) 7-2

This is your Derby favorite. He’s drawn raves from the backside this week, and won the fight for “best workout.” He’s undefeated in all 3 starts this year, including the Fountain of Youth and Florida Derby. This is impressive in itself, but even more so when you factor in he’s a stone cold closer and was running against a speed bias in all 3. Joel Rosario is so hot is pants are on fire, and I don’t mean because he’s cute. Also, Shug McMcGaughey has been on cloud 9 ever since his arrival. Shug doesn’t run unless he believes he’s got something (anyone remember Easy Goer? I do, because I have a poster of him and Sunday Silence framed in my bathroom). This is a favorite I can get behind.

17. Will Take Charge (Jon Court, D. Wayne Lukas) 20-1

It’s amazing how I’ve totally changed my attitude towards D. Wayne Lukas. He used to irk me the way Todd Pletcher irks me now, but these days when I see him at Churchill on Derby week I just grin. I like his other horse Oxbow better, but how many times has Lukas won the Derby with his more lightly regarded entry? Most of them? Right.

18. Frac Daddy (Victor Lebron, Kenny McPeek) 50-1

I don’t know much about him, other than he was second to Overanalyze in the Arkansas Derby and up the track in the Florida Derby and Holy Bull. Pass.

19. Java's War (Julien Leparoux, Kenny McPeek) 15-1

Here’s your Bluegrass Winner, who was also 2^nd in the Tampa Bay Derby to Verrazano. He closed from dead last to steal the Bluegrass at the wire. I think he needs to step up here to make some noise, but it could happen. Post position sucks, but if he can drop in at the start and find a way to save ground that might help him, but if he has to circle the field once he makes his move that might be too much to overcome. Ken McPeek and Julien Leparoux are my Keeneland homeboys, so I’ll be happy if he can pull it off.

20. Vyjack (Garrett Gomez, Rudy Rodriguez) 15-1

Yuck. This is a nice horse who was going to be overlooked anyway, but especially now that he got exiled to the 20 hole. He was a very close third in the Wood Memorial to Verrazano and Normandy Invasion and is a really nice hose, but he likes to lay closer to the lead. He’ll have to break well and gun it to get in position, which might mean doing too much too early.

AE Fear the Kitten (Alan Garcia, Mike Maker) 

This horse only runs if someone scratches. Same Kitten rule applies.

Conclusions:

Easy Money*:

·        Orb

Smart Money:

·        Itsmyluckyday

·        Normandy Invasion

You’re Buying Dinner Tonight

·        Mylute

·        Oxbow

You Can’t Pick Everyone (Also known as, I Don’t Care For Todd Pletcher Even When He Has Good Horses)

·        Verrazano

·        Java’s War

·        Overanalyze

·        Revolutionary

*This is a lie. There is no easy money. It’s the Kentucky Derby.

Bonus handicapping!

Kentucky Oaks*:

Easy Money

·        Dreaming of Julia

Smart Money

·        Midnight Lucky

·        Close Hatches

You’re Buying Dinner Tonight

·        Rose to Gold

Can’t Pick Everyone

·        Beholder

·        Unlimited Budget

*This is a REALLY good field.

Rachel Alexandra

There are few horses that have possessed the grace and devastation of the dark bay filly with the broken blaze that so enchanted the Sport of Kings in 2009. From her tapered head and piercing eyes to her lissome motion, there was nothing about Rachel Alexandra that did not stand out. Foes fell at her feet like humbled courtiers, and those who did not do so willingly were crushed beneath her, for under her elegant exterior was a warrior who took no prisoners and stood alone on top of the world. 

To any who have allowed her memory to fade, you need only recall the roar of the Saratoga crowd as she fought off crushing fractions and the desperate lunge of Macho Again, the chasm she left between herself and Summer Bird on a muddy day at Monmouth Park, the awe of the Churchill Downs crowd when this elegant filly glided home a world away from the rest of the field.

Rachel was electrifying.

Her three year old season, called by some the best in history, inspired the racing world like no horse since the great Ruffian. In fact, for the first time Ruffian’s name was whispered in the same sentence as another. Rachel Alexandra seemed like Ruffian reborn, the filly that was not satisfied with merely beating her competition; when they tried to best her she spat in their eye, and several were never the same again.

Lifetimes are spent waiting for athletes like her. Racing fans of today pour over history, watching the greats of yesterday and wondering when they will see a legend come to life, when they will be present to see history written by the pounding of hooves. Rachel Alexandra was the horse I had waited for since I learned about the great John Henry as a little girl. I wanted my hero; I wanted my champion. She came.

Rachel left the racing world so suddenly she quickly became an afterthought. Many were critical of the management of her four year old season, and her luster seemed to tarnish in the wake of another great filly whose torch would burn just as bright. But deep in the heart of the Kentucky bluegrass her legacy is just as potent as it was that September day at Saratoga, and on October 20^th I got to see it.  

Stonestreet Farm lies along the fabled Old Frankfort Pike that winds through Fayette and Woodford County. Along this simple country road are strewn some of the titans in thoroughbred breeding:  Three Chimneys, Lane’s End. Stonestreet may not be so auspicious but it is just as beautiful, and it clearly understands the legacy of its most famous resident. A few times a year they open their gates to racing fans and provide access to this remarkable champion, and today is one of those days. Just inside the visitor’s entrance is a comfortable country house, and inside the love and reverence for their filly seeps deep into the walls adorned with her photos and memorabilia. Her trophies are proudly displayed on a table while a flat screen television plays endless replays of her racing career. Stonestreet’s pride in Rachel extends to her fans – waiting for us is a warm reception, a table of refreshments, a placard to sign. This is the fourth session they have hosted today, but no one seems anything less than delighted to see us.

The weather is cold, rainy, with a biting wind that promises winter is far closer than October would lead you to believe. But no one here feels the gloom. When a farm van comes to pick us up, we flock to it like excited kids anxious to be first in line. The barns are what you come to expect in the royalty of the Kentucky bluegrass – equine palaces with stalls that would dwarf your own bedroom, piled high with thick straw, each stall bearing a plaque with the name of its tenant. But it takes time to notice this, because when we arrive the breath catches in our throat.

There she is.

She is larger than life, just as queenly in retirement as she was on the track. She stands quietly, not a hair out of place, alternately posing for the flashing cameras, dozing and laying her ears as a reminder that we serve at her pleasure. Motherhood has softened her only a little – she still looks every inch a champion. You can feel the awe in her admirers as they creep timidly towards her for a chance to touch her, as if the tactile experience will somehow make her real. It does – her rich, dark coat is pillowy soft. She tilts her head toward me as I run my fingers across it, acknowledging me with patience and grace. As I touch the base of that broken blaze she snaps once, just a reminder, then stands quietly under my touch. Her handler constantly smooths her forelock, speaking to her softly whenever she shows a hint of irritation. Never once does he scold her or raise his voice. There is kindness in his face as he shares her with us, and I am grateful.

We cannot get enough. When the time comes to depart, we are reluctant to go, hoping to stretch those last moments out, committing them to memory, etching them in stone. When we get back onto the van it is like stepping outside a fairytale that had become real, if just for a few moments. In the office we are presented with a small gift and heartfelt thanks for our support. Before it is time to return to that cold, cloudy day, I gaze at the television and watch the Kentucky Oaks, again losing my breath as Rachel pulls farther and farther away from the field, a final impression left by this exquisite filly that entered history before my very eyes – a long time dream spectacularly fulfilled.

Zenyatta

Evening fell slowly at Keeneland, plunging an already freezing day into a dark, frigid night. Even so, a steady trickle of fans, including myself, reluctantly let go of the warm interior of the sales pavilion to stake out a position around the brightly lit walking ring, willing to shoulder the cold for as long as it took to see the horse that had captured the heart and inspiration of people around the world. Patiently we waited, ignoring the involuntary quivering, the runny noses, the appendages that felt like broken glass. We talked to one another, knowing that if nothing else, there was one thing we had in common, and right then, it was the only important thing. It would all be worth it, just for a glimpse of Zenyatta. 

As the cold deepened the crowd began to build, and the soft murmur of excitement became more audible. Soon the folks at Keeneland, who went out of their way to accommodate these determined, faithful fans, made steady announcements about her progress. She had landed. She was on the van. She had reached the grounds. She was in a stall and would be coming to the ring shortly. Each time, the crowd stirred a little more, sparking the announcer to implore everyone to keep their emotions in check when she arrived. That would be a tall order. Everything about Zenyatta brings out the starry-eyed dreamer in anyone who meets her, and it’s hard to keep that to yourself.  

Finally, outside Barn 15 cameras began to flash. Suddenly there she was, striding into the glow of the walking ring lights as regal and amazing as your wildest dreams. An audible gasp rippled through the crowd like a shiver running down your spine. Her coat gleamed, not a hair out of place, dappled and sleek despite the cold. If she felt it, she did not show. She stepped lightly, quickly, occasionally stretching out her legs into her familiar and beloved dance, stopping occasionally to survey the crowd, all people who had come from opposite ends of the country for one thing: her. Every time she paused, raised her head, pricked her ears you could hear the crowd cry softly with delight, scarcely believing their eyes, forced to believe their hearts. 

On the second pass, John Shirreffs took the lead rope from Mario Espinoza and escorted his Queen around the ring, taking his time in spite of the cold, bringing her close enough to the rail for her many onlookers, myself included, to reach out and touch this dream, this fantasy, turn her for a split second into warm, fluid reality. She was here, in front of our eyes, for just those few moments caught between her captivating career and her transcendence into legend. This was Zenyatta, and she was magnificent. 

Never has this sport seen something like this mare. The greatest names of the Turf, Secretariat, Man ‘O War, John Henry, Seattle Slew, Ruffian, Foergo, Kelso, and so many more…they astounded us with their brilliance, their athleticism and might, their perfection of a creature that poets and writers have vainly attempted to capture for centuries. But Zenyatta? She was more than those things. Talk about her greatness, how she stacks up to those fabled names that are now all but myth, is largely irrelevant. She is above those things. What she has done is reach out to the hearts of fans, old, new, and some not even fans at all, and gifted us with the embodiment of hope, the thrill of performance, the essence of the horse, not just as it relates to horse racing, but so far beyond it. What is Zenyatta? She is.

I saw her tonight, in her last bow to the public, and I will remember it forever.