Jay Hovdey

Not since Dan Quayle's vice-presidential debate with Lloyd Bentsen has a bar been set so low. Rachel Alexandra may need a race (headline in my paper). Rachel Alexandra will be only 80 percent (quote from Jess Jackson). Rachel Alexandra's return has been compromised by her long layoff, unseasonably wet weather, fluctuations in the Dow Jones. Heck, to hear it, Rachel Alexandra will be lucky to get around out there today in New Orleans without stopping at the half for nap.

Wanted: First Lady of California Horse Racing Job Description: Give flesh and blood to the fantasy that the sport is run by something other than floundering guys in suits and ties. Qualifications: The grace of Barbara Walter. The energy of Trudy McCaffery. The indomitability of Marje Everett. The passion of Susan Rowan. Laden as it is with testosterone, horse racing has never been a comfortable place for talented women to flourish. Right now, the California's most influential handful among the majority gender include Marsha Naify and Madeline Auerbach (chairman and vice-chairman of the Thoroughbred Owners of California), Marie Moretti (director of the Del Mar Thoroughbred Club), Leigh Ann Howard (president of the California Thoroughbred Breeders' Association) and Bo Derek (California Horse Racing Board commissioner),

Can you hear it? Can you feel it? Can you smell it? That's Oscar buzz, filling the air, and everybody seems to care. Never mind that this was the worst year for movies since movies were invented--including the year "Oilver!" won for Best Picture. So grim was the list in 2009 that instead of quality, the Academy went for quanitity and nominated 10, yes 10, movies for Best Picture. The winner will be anounced Sunday night, and how that ultimate winner was chosen is more complicated than fill

"I'm not threatening." This is what Frank Stronach said, and I tried hard to believe it. But when a man of wealth and power makes demands, in so many words, and then mentions consequences if those demands are not met, "threatening" is usually one of the words that comes to mind, along with "duck," "cover" and "yikes!" Now that the bankruptcy of his racing company is about to strip him of all but a few precious assets, Stronach seems grimly determined to make those remaining assets a success. In all cases, however, the climbs are uphill. In Florida, Gulfstream Park's fortunes appear to be irrevocably linked to a casino business that was mounted in an increasingly saturated gaming market and in a sprawling mall launched in an economy full of dread. In California, where there is no cas

In a perfect world (a good movie, by the way, with Eastwood and Costner), that heady array of 3-year-old stakes run last Saturday would have been packaged and gift-wrapped on some kind of network (come back, Bravo!) for both efficient consumption and maximum impact. Instead, those sitting at home and tuned to the racing stations got them spread out all over the course of the afternoon, some live and some delayed, depending on whether or not your cable/satellite was TVG and/or HRTV friendly. This is the world in which racing fans live. Keeps them on their toes, if nothing else. Beyond the ever-shrinking borders of racing, however, the rest of the sports hungry planet was feasting on Winter Olympics and late winter basketball (go Clips!), along with the Premier League football appetizers as the World Cup looms. Apologies to Pletcher, whose 3-year-olds mopped up in the Fountain o