My derby story isn\'t personal because I\'ve never been, nor particularly interested in going. But, my father went every year, initially on a train, with a sizable group of local high rollers (one of whom was a prominent horse owner and had an NBA franchise for a few years). The trip was arranged by a meat packing mogul, so they ate like kings, and drank like them, too. Poker games went all night, and they weren\'t nickel dime. They left Thursday night, pulled in Friday in time for the first post, and had some kind of private box. For a number of years, their neighboring box was occupied by Jimmy the Greek and Paul Hornung, and for the latter, sobriety never made it past the ticket taker. My father died in his sleep the day after returning from the Derby when he cashed on Spend a Buck, and had a very good Friday, as well. Losing him hurt like hell, but I could still manage a smile at the thought of him going out a winner.
