Moving day

Big Brown here. Well, I've enjoyed the relative peace and quiet here at Churchill Downs during the last 11 days since the Derby, but now it's time to head for the Preakness. My plane leaves today for Baltimore, and I'll be at Pimlico, they tell me, by 7 o'clock Wednesday night. I'll be flying with hopeless longshots Tres Borrachos and Racecar Rhapsody, who should stay in Louisville to run in a non-winners-of-1 allowance. I assume I'll be flying first-class and they'll be in the cargo hold, but you never can tell.

I'm not looking forward to being mobbed again by media creeps. Even my collaborator, Mr. Ed, has been getting on my nerves lately, asking dumb questions. Will you predict that you'll win the Triple Crown? Do you think you'll race as a 4-year-old? You ought to see them bug my trainer, Mr. Rick, crowding around him and shoving microphones in his face as if he's Moses who just came down from the mountain with the 10 Commandments. It's just a horse race, you clowns. Get a little perspective on the universe.

I guess it's good I'm feeling a little aggravated and feisty, because it's time to put on my game face. I'll be all business from here on in.