I held off posting this until the baseball run was done, so, better late than never.

I was not going to take in another Derby but this would be a memorial for Derby Joe.

UK daughter left Lexington with the first shift at 3:30 a.m. to get to the gates by 5:00 a.m. though they are not opened until 8:00 a.m.

But they were trained by Derby Joe to follow this drill to secure a position at the fence at the 3rd turn.

The Mayor of the Infield, who drives 8 hours to get there, has slowed up over the years but was still next to us at the front.

He made 41 in a row before illness prevented him from making the 2018 Derby and he passed away too young late last summer.

My daughters had known him their whole lives.

So, UM daughter trusted neither me nor her husband nor her father-in-law nor his friend to be able to get to the right parking area to be near the first shift.

The favorite spot of years past was no longer accessible.

First good sign of the day: Starbucks muffed someone's order so we got free sandwiches with our coffee.

UM daughter relayed the text from her Mom, part of shift one, that she found free street parking.

Near the man doing cocaine in the park.

Our response was that he was not likely to remain there for the hour plus time it would take us to get there.

Mom said he looked pretty well set up for the day, in a small rectangular lot park at the end of the street, laying out lines on top of a decorative concrete barrier.

We found a paid lot a block away.

The owner was wearing a Louisville hat and allowed as how Cardinal fans were expecting the death penalty for all their hoop shenanigans.

Wearing Michigan gear, as always, I told him that if the Ohio plated car had flat tires when the owner returned, it would have nothing to do with me.

As I walked away I heard him yell “Go Buckeyes!” and turned back to shout “Go Cats!” to which he responded by putting up his dukes in a faux fighting pose.

No longer did you shove cash into a slot to buy an infield ticket.

They had real booths and real physical tickets, unlike my last trip in 2011.

And no lines, another big improvement.

We got inside as the first race was about to begin, 10:30 a.m., and easily found our crew.

Joe's widow and some other friends and relatives had joined our group, with folding chairs surrounded by police barricade tape to demarcate our territory.

We had a tarp to string from the fence for the forecast rain, but the security guards and gendarmes periodically told us to remove it.

We held it over our heads during some of the precipitation.

Next good sign: someone wanted to use some of the yellow tape and paid for it with a mint julep – up to $15 now - and no commemorative glasses sold on the infield.

 

Perusing the program on the drive over, I saw Mr. Crow in the 3rd race.

We had just given a bottle of Old Crow to a neighbor for his 70th birthday.

Check.

That horse showed, not enough to come out ahead on win-place-show.

Kneedeepinsnow, had to go with that one.

Ten to one shot came in a winner!

Youvesaiditall. My father-in-law worked for Budweiser.

Finished out of the money.

Hoffa's Union was running the 13th race, Derby is the 12th.

I was an extra in the movie, so had to bet that one.

Led around the 3rd turn and then fell off the pace.

Clouds and thunder came and went.

The weather report was featured on the big video screen across the track from us.

We managed our bets and drinks just fine.

Another good sign: UK daughter's boyfriend's birthday; they asked what he had to do to get a drink. Do a cartwheel was the response.

So he did and was rewarded with a free mint julep.

The infield crowd tends to decline in sobriety as the day wears on.

Derby Joe had all the winners memorized with the year they won.

His nephew carried on Joe's tradition of betting people in line at the bar tents that he could name the race winner for every year.

Joe won free drinks that way and his nephew lost count of how many he won. Did not drink them all himself; he shared.

(Read the sign again)

I had just finished Robert Hariss's marvelous trilogy of historical novels on Cicero, so for the Derby I went with Roman historian Tacitus and Code of Honor.

The Twin Spires betting app gave me ten free dollars, so I used most of it on my $2 bets on the Derby.

Very muddy, sloppy track by then.

Our group was ecstatic with the DQ, which moved my 2 up to second and third. Joe's nephew had $20 to show on the winner, which still paid about 20 to 1, and both my daughters had the winner.

Now for the somber part.

Joe's widow had brought some of his ashes, per his request, and spread them with the mud and covered them by the fence at turn three.

Words and tears were shared.

Joe's nephew shared a quote from Joe that I had not heard but captured his joie de vivre and enthusiasm:

“If you ever lose the kid in you, you'll never have anything worth losing again.”

With all the delays for officials replaying the race, it was an hour before we left after Hoffa's Union let us down.

As we packed up, I mentioned to one of our rookies that the infield was less crowded and less rowdy than usual. Perhaps the rain dampened things down.

I said “Normally you see people puking and – oh, like that guy over there.” and I pointed to a gentleman about a hundred feet away who had pulled up and bent over right next to a garbage can to unload a Niagara Falls of regurgitated adult beverages.

The Derby is still the Derby and people are still people.

If you ever make it to the infield, stop by the fence at the 3rd turn and try to look through it as would a child.