As a young child in the late 1950's, "a trip to Belmont" meant a ride in the family car to my grandmother's garden apartment on Belmont Avenue in Haledon, NJ. In the 1980's, "a trip to Belmont" meant a visit to Little Joe's on that same street to get my hair cut. For six years during the '80's, "a trip to Belmont" meant that I had completed 95% of the morning commute to my first professional CPA job.

But in 2015, "a trip to Belmont" meant "one of the highlights of my life".

My father was a reporter for the Paterson News in the 1960's. He loved horse racing and so did his co-worker and bowling teammate Ron Rippey. Ron was a great handicapper who four decades later would win the $500,000 National Handicapping Championship in Las Vegas. For my father and Ron, a "trip to Belmont" meant what it means to me today: a day at the race track.

But in 1973, "a trip to Belmont" didn't mean that to me yet. It meant going home to see Secretariat compete in The Belmont Stakes only hours after taking off my cap and gown from Paterson Catholic High School's graduation ceremony. I remember watching that race on our old rabbit-eared black and white TV. I recall hearing the phrases "moving like a tremendous machine" and "a record that may never be broken", and the words "amazing", "unbelievable", "tremendous", and "sensational".

As a naive teenager, however, I probably didn't realize how significant that day had been, and perhaps not even five years later because Seattle Slew and Affirmed had already duplicated that Triple Crown feat in back-to-back years. Maybe it had seemed all too easy and commonplace, just as it may have seemed easy and commonplace in the 1940's when there had been four Triple Crown winners and in the 1930's when there had been three. But as with almost everything else, regardless of age, you may not fully appreciate it while you have it and you won't thoroughly miss it until it's gone. 

Decades later, I eventually realized how special another Triple Crown winner would be. Fate had decided to allow horse racing fans to suffer through numerous disappointments. They had been teased too many times. On a dozen occasions, hopeful throngs had assembled at Belmont Park with a fervent desire to celebrate the next Triple Crown champion. But they had always left dismayed.

In 2015, however, hope was once again renewed in the form of American Pharoah after his impressive Derby and Preakness victories. So when the opportunity to potentially witness history presented itself, I secured a ticket with my friend Jim through Kenwood Racing and immediately became emotionally invested in ending the 37-year Triple Crown drought. 

Jim is a great handicapper; he grew up in the Preakness section of Wayne, NJ which has ties to the origin of the Preakness Stakes. He graciously shares his annual Derby analysis with his friends. This year's edition stated that there would likely be a gathering at Belmont Park in early June to witness an historic effort by American Pharoah.

Jim has been a lightning rod for great sporting events in the past: to name a few, he was in Yankee Stadium when Reggie Jackson hit three home runs in the World Series, and more recently for Derek Jeter's 3000th hit, a dramatic home run. So knowing that Jim would be in attendance for American Pharoah's Triple Crown attempt increased my gut feeling that something special could very well happen.

There was also a personal spiritual handicapping component to my optimism: my mother who had passed away four years before would always bet #5 because she had 5 children who she loved more than Life itself.  When the post positions were drawn on the Wednesday before The Belmont Stakes, American Pharaoh received #5. It was an omen. There would be no doubt which horse mom would be cheering.

I awoke on the morning of the Belmont Stakes with great confidence that the day would be special. I drove with Jim to the limousine rendezvous point at the home of one of the partners of Kenwood Racing named Jack. Our other companions were Robb (another partner), Dave, Joe, Barbara, Don, Tom, and Chris. In an informal vote held during the ride to Belmont Park, 7 of 9 (not to be confused with the Star Trek Voyager character "7 of 9") agreed that American Pharoah would be victorious.

From our grandstand seats at Belmont Park, I surveyed the race track and admired its beauty. I could feel the element of electricity already. I have never stood in Times Square on New Year's Eve but I imagine that the crowd behavior is similar: bathed in expectancy. But suddenly I experienced a bit of dread. There was indeed a distinct difference between the two events: in Times Square the number on the ball is guaranteed to change when it reaches the end of its journey. The after-party is assured. But here, there was of course no guarantee of an after-party or anything else for that matter. Just risk, the nature of horse racing. That sudden thought provided some pessimism which would continue to pop up every so often.

I tried to disregard any negativism and instead sought to revel in the splendor of the day. The first ten races were a showcase of many of the greatest horses in America, and with each passing race the buzz of the crowd was noticeably increasing. The hours seemed to fly by and soon the tote board showed 56 minutes to post for the 11th race, The Belmont Stakes. The ball was dropping; the emotional countdown had begun.

When American Pharoah arrived on the track for the post parade, he was greeted with a standing ovation of admiration. Most fans never sat down again. They just wanted to gaze; they didn't want to miss a moment. With a few minutes to post, the field crossed in front of our mid-stretch seats. The cheers reached a new height as American Pharoah entered the starting gate to our right and the volume would continue to increase with each passing furlong. More decibels were added to the collective roar as the field approached the top of the stretch. The crowd was in an absolute frenzy by now. When it became evident approaching mid-stretch that American Pharoah would hold onto the lead that he had nurtured the entire race, the initial eruption was spine-tingling. When he crossed the finish line moments later, the second eruption shook the stands and my video camera. You would have sworn that a jet plane was landing. The experience was mesmerizing and unforgettable.

The crowd continued to cheer and applaud for minutes thereafter as if they wanted the moment to last forever. And we did, because for 2 minutes and 26 seconds, humanity seemed to be united at Belmont Park and across America in a common cause. We were all together on the same page. It didn't matter how rich or poor we were, how black or white we were, how conservative or liberal we were, or how male or female we were.

Like Bob Baffert, my only regret was that my parents were not there with me to experience history and share one of the highlights of my life. But they were indeed watching; my 89-year-old wonderful father from his wheelchair at Saint Joseph's Home in Totowa, NJ, and my greatly-missed mother who had the best seat in the house in Heaven, or perhaps an even closer one on the shoulders of her #5 horse: American Pharoah, the 2015 Triple Crown winner.  

PS.

I recorded the race from the top of the stretch until the finish and continued recording for a few minutes thereafter. That video has been uploaded to youtube with the link to it provided below. It gives you an idea of what it was like to be there and have impending history pass directly in front of you before it officially arrived. I still get chills when viewing it and re-hearing the incredible roar of the crowd, and I hope that I never lose appreciation for, or forget, what I felt that day.

Many thanks to Kenwood Racing!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WufjEAkb6ic