Big Brown here, and I'm kind of bored, waiting for my date with destiny that's only 4 1/2 hours away. Here's a good one: On the same day Icabad Crane is running against me in the Belmont, a horse named Washington Irving raced in the Epsom Derby over in England. Washington Irving didn't lose by a head -- he was up the track -- and neither will Icabad.
Enough with the literary references. I'm told that the animal-rights protestors on Hempstead Turnpike outside Belmont Park today had a sign that compared me to Barry Bonds. I guess just because it's "clear" that I'm going to "cream" the competition, they hate me. OK, a little Winstrol (it's legal in New York, by the way) has entered my system, but I wonder if any of those holier-than-thou folks are taking prescription drugs that also are legal.
Now I want to weigh in on the greatest issue of our times: Whether Joba Chamberlain should start for the evil Yankees or pitch the eighth inning. I can't remember a team babying such a huge guy so much by limiting him to a pitch count. What if my trainer said I would only run 1 3/8 miles in the Belmont because he's limiting me to a furlong count? Humans are a weak species. Too bad horses don't run the world.
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