Belmont's just a race with a bunch of studs

I stood in front of the winner's circle at Belmont Park, ready to scribble some history into my notebook. A record crowd showed up, 120,139, all there for the same reason, that June day in 2004, to see if a horse from Philadelphia Park could capture the last leg of the Triple Crown.

The whole sport was rooting for Smarty Jones. I stood next to a young Belmont Park jockey, dressed in a dapper gray suit. As he talked to his girlfriend on his cellphone, I scribbled down what he said: "They haven't thrown me out yet. Oh, honey, I wish you were here."

When a horse wins the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness Stakes, there is only one rooting interest, unless you happen to be connected to one of the other horses. When American Pharoah gets to the paddock early Saturday evening and takes a couple of spins around the limestone walking ring, NBC's cameras will do what they did for Smarty - they'll ignore the other horses, keeping their sights on history.

With Smarty, it was particularly nuts, since the horse had a story for the ages. Philadelphia all but adopted him, but he wasn't just a local story. When Smarty missed winning the Belmont by a length, getting passed in the final 10 strides of the 11/2-mile race, The New York Times still put the news above the fold on the front page of the next day's paper. And it wasn't exactly a slow news day. Ronald Reagan had died that Saturday.

If American Pharoah, who has the goods to get it done Saturday, gets it done, history will be scribbled into notebooks and tweeted out instantaneously, and the cameras will stay on him through the winner's circle right back to the barn. But that's what it will be, a piece of history, not to be forgotten. As for the tired idea that horse racing needs a Triple Crown to spark a comeback in the sport itself, here's the thing - it won't matter.

Win or lose, American Pharoah, will end up at a Kentucky stud farm. The papers already are signed. That's a paradox of the sport, apparently no way around it. The best racehorses are too valuable to race in their prime.

Imagine if LeBron James and Stephen Curry were both to be retired after this NBA Finals. That's what you have here. (In truth, LeBron would be long retired by now. Tom Brady would have won one Super Bowl, etc.)

The logistics of horse racing do not diminish this weekend's stakes. I've been at Belmont Park for three missed attempts at the Triple Crown, starting with Funny Cide in 2003. The horse that beat him, Empire Maker, actually had been the favorite in the Kentucky Derby and had finished second at Churchill Downs, so his Belmont victory wasn't a great surprise. Funny Cide's wins at the Derby and Preakness had been the page-turning story line, a gelding owned by some buddies from Upstate New York who traveled to races in a school bus. It was a great tale. It just didn't last to the finish line at Belmont Park. We had to chase Funny Cide's curmudgeonly trainer back to the barn in the rain to get his thoughts. He talked but didn't break stride as he did it.

It's a long haul for the humans, this Triple Crown deal. Nobody ever handled it better than Smarty Jones' trainer, John Servis, who kept explaining things as if he was talking over a beer at a barbecue. It was a remarkable thing to witness, grace under pressure defined.

The horse doesn't know the stakes, of course. The pressure isn't what has prevented a Triple Crown since Affirmed outdueled Alydar in 1978. There's no question it matters that modern-day horses aren't used to racing three times in five weeks, and the other top contenders at this Belmont skipped the Preakness after missing at the Derby. But that's the way it should be. For the owners and trainers of those horses, they are not trying to stop history so much as make a little piece of their own. Winning the Belmont Stakes matters. For many, it will be the highlight of their lives. If that makes it harder for American Pharoah, as it did California Chrome last year and others before, it should be hard. History isn't easy no matter how it is scribbled.

Nevertheless, Pharoah has the stage this weekend for a little less than 21/2 minutes, and the drama just before will be the highest level. Maybe that jockey will be back at the winner's circle. I scribbled down a little more what he said as Smarty came down the stretch, along with a horse named Birdstone.

"Oh, no," the jockey told his girlfriend. "Oh my God!"