The Derby’s just around the corner. How lucky are you?

Luck is broadly defined as “the experience of notable positive, negative, or improbable events… occurring through chance rather than one’s own actions.” These events seem to happen all the time in one’s life, and they can be random or non-random.

From this perspective, an event’s being labeled ‘lucky’ or ‘unlucky’ simply describes the event’s positivity, negativity, or improbability. Those who have studied luck point out that one’s feeling of being lucky stems from the fact that many of these random occurrences have been positive in their life; thus, they feel lucky.

In gambling, for instance, the same holds true. But it’s also true that those same ‘lucky’ people tend to gamble more, thus increasing the opportunity for positive results. I don’t know if I am lucky or not, but I know that leaving myself open to opportunities has brought me some good fortune when it comes to being at the race track.

My good luck has not come in big dollar winnings, but simply in wonderful experiences. Like the time a friend of mine lucked us into a chance to meet Tom Durkin, the Hall of Fame announcer. We were able to watch him call a race in his box high atop the grandstand at Saratoga. He also posed for pictures with us, and we were able to observe and be touched by his gracious personality and kindness. He retired the following year and, to the best of my knowledge, never again was anyone able to be in that box with him. Now, was that luck, or something else? I doubt I’ll ever know.

Another time, just a few years ago, in fact, I was in the clubhouse at Keeneland Race Course having dinner with some friends who live in Lexington. As it happened, Penny Chenery, the owner of Secretariat and a woman regarded by many as one the great ambassadors of racing, was also there that afternoon. She, too, was kind enough to take a picture with me, and also gave me a signed photograph of Secretariat, two things which I treasure to this day. Luck or not, it was a fabulous racetrack experience for me.

In 1989, a week before the Kentucky Derby, I was at a horse show called the Kentucky Three-Day event, a type of marathon eventing show held annually at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington, KY. In this event, the horses first compete in dressage, then a series of cross-country events that involve them ultimately running several miles while also periodically jumping over logs, brick walls, and other fixed elements. After all that, these remarkable horses are then asked, in the show-jumping segment, to jump fences within the confines of the stadium. This is an Olympic event requiring the horses to do all three of these things and be timed while doing it.

As I was walking the open grounds of the cross-country course, I spotted a woman wearing a hat that had ‘Sunday Silence’ printed on it. Sunday Silence was a horse that was one of the two favorites for that year’s Derby, which was less than two weeks away. I asked her if she’d bought the hat at the Horse Park. She said no and asked me why I was interested. I told her I was going to the Derby and really liked that horse. She said, “Give me your name and address, and I’ll see if I can get you one.” Of course, I had to ask her if she had anything to do with Sunday Silence. She then introduced herself as Staci Hancock, one of the owners of the horse. Needless to say, I was very surprised at both her offer and her friendliness. And sure enough, the following week, three days before the Derby, a beautiful Navy blue baseball hat emblazoned with ‘Sunday Silence’ arrived at my home in Ohio. Along with it was a handwritten note wishing ME good luck at the race on Saturday. I know I was the only one in the infield with a hat like that, and I wore it proudly as her beautiful dark bay horse thundered down the stretch to win the 1989 Kentucky Derby. I sent her a thank you note when I got back home, and then watched as her horse went on to win the Preakness Stakes, the second jewel of the Triple Crown. I received a computer generated thank you letter from all the owners after that win, as well. Even though Sunday finished second to his great rival Easy Goer in the Belmont Stakes and didn’t win the Triple Crown, he, along with meeting Staci Hancock, will always rank as one of my luckiest experiences at the races. Sunday Silence went on to win the Breeders’ Cup Classic and ultimately was named 1989 Horse of the Year.

Many years later I saw Staci at Saratoga and reintroduced myself with a brief story about the hat. She said she remembered me. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, but her saying so was just another testament to her graciousness. After Sunday Silence passed away, knowing how much that horse meant to her, I sent her a sympathy card. Again, she responded with a handwritten note of thanks. Did I just happened to be in the right place at the right time? Was it luck, or was it simply one of those random positive events that sometimes happen in one’s life? I will never know, and it doesn’t matter: whatever caused it, I will have that wonderful Derby experience to carry with me for the rest of my life.