Big Brown feuds with Curlin

I saw the video of Curlin strutting into Churchill Downs’ paddock on a red carpet Saturday, a few hours before I became racing’s new cult hero. Mr. King of the World, there’s a new sheriff in town, and the name is Big Brown.

Unlike Curlin, I had no problem becoming the first horse since 1915 to win the Derby in my fourth lifetime start. That was too much to ask of the magnificent chestnut, who was third in the Derby last year and so far back you had trouble finding him. He didn’t have to come from post 20, either, and he wasn’t hung out wide for a mile like I was. Hey, I give him props for winning the Preakness and the Breeders’ Cup Classic, but I love reminding Mr. Horse of the Year that he lost the Belmont to a girl. When he goes to stud, you think the mares won’t be whispering about that?

So I called Curlin on his cell Saturday night and offered to swap my Derby DVD for his. He whinnied, called me a young punk and hung up, but I got back at him big time. His barn at Churchill isn’t far from mine, so I got all my stablemates to chant “Rags to Riches, Rags to Riches” just before Curlin’s bedtime.

OK, so I’m getting a little full of myself, but when you’re an undefeated Derby winner, you’ve got a license to strut, babe.

(Tomorrow: Big Brown runs down the Preakness field.)