Hovdey: Maybe 11th time will be the charm

Beginning in 1987, when Jack Van Berg took Alysheba to the brink of winning the Triple Crown, I have been to Belmont Park for 10 tries and left there with a fistful of programs worth considerably less than they might have been. So, here we go again.

What lingers from that first disappointment was not necessarily the sight of Alysheba and Chris McCarron trailing home fourth, far down the track from the freakish performance of Bet Twice. It was the scene at the Garden City Hotel later that night, where McCarron had rented a special room downstairs for a victory party.

While the rest of the hotel rocked, I stopped by to pay my respects. McCarron was there with his family, including big brother and fellow jockey Gregg, along with a couple of bored waiters. Asked years later how long it took him to get over the disappointment, McCarron replied, “I’ll let you know when I do.”

I was back at Belmont for Silver Charm’s 1997 Triple Crown attempt, still aglow from a Preakness squeaker over Free House and Captain Bodgit that ranks as one of the true classic thrillers. That night, in a Mount Washington eatery not far from Pimlico, owner Bob Lewis had asked each one of his guests to say a few words about the day and what it meant to them.

Bill Nack, Secretariat’s biographer, rose to remind everyone that since the time of Sir Barton, there always had been at least one Triple Crown winner grazing somewhere in a field as a living reminder of the remarkable achievement, even when the gap between Triple Crowns stretched to the 25 years between Citation and Secretariat.

“Now, Secretariat is gone,” Nack said. “Seattle Slew is 23, and Affirmed is 22, so who knows how much longer they’ll be around? Here’s to Silver Charm and to keeping the flame of the Triple Crown alive.”

Nack’s eloquence pretty much stuck a fork in Silver Charm’s chances, although he beat every horse he could see in the Belmont before Touch Gold ambushed him on the far outside. A popular horse had lost, Lewis caught the flu, and David Hofmans, who trained Touch Gold, walked the streets of Garden City the next morning in anonymity.

“Maybe it’s a good thing they don’t know who I am,” he said.

The lingering memories of Real Quiet’s near miss in the 1998 Belmont include owner Mike Pegram’s seminar on the efficient packing of an Igloo cooler with Coors Light instead of Bud, of the Bob Baffert barn’s insistence on referring to the Derby and Preakness winner as “The Fish,” and the fact that they were beaten a lip by a horse with hives (Victory Gallop) trained by a guy on crutches (Elliott Walden).

By the time Charismatic arrived at the 1999 Belmont as the Derby and Preakness winner, an edgy impatience had settled over the scene, and many of the same characters were in play. Lewis couldn’t believe his luck that he was back after only two years with a shot, while his trainer, D. Wayne Lukas, once won six straight Triple Crown races with four different colts. I watched the race with Bill Mott, whose frustrated reaction to the near miss of his runner Vision and Verse quickly turned to anguish at the sight of Charismatic pulling up lame. I made my way quickly to the track and watched Charismatic load into the ambulance, a three-legged billboard for the cost of the Triple Crown.

Forgive me if the War Emblem experience of 2002 is a blur. I think that is the year I discovered the pleasures of the Malverne Cinema, an old-timey neighborhood movie house not far from Belmont Park that specialized in offbeat indies and sleepers (I think I saw “Insomnia,” which was not as good as the Norwegian version but did have Robin Williams).

Funny Cide, in 2003, put me in touch with my inner Barclay Tagg, which was fine until it rained all day on Belmont Stakes Day. The race was reduced to a survival of the conditions, and the winner was Empire Maker, the grandsire of American Pharoah.

One year later, it was at some point between the Preakness and the Belmont when my car radio picked up “Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me” on NPR and the guest was the trainer of Smarty Jones. Who knew John Servis would know that much about that year’s plague of cicadas? Then Smarty Jones was beaten by Birdstone, and hours later, his trainer, Nick Zito, was still apologizing for spoiling everyone’s fun.

The most recent brushes with a Triple Crown have been fraught with physical peril. I watched Bobby Frankel do what he could to help his pal Rick Dutrow through the Big Brown ordeal in 2008, but nothing could fix the colt’s bad foot. On the day before the 2012 Belmont, I was enjoying a pastrami sandwich from Stadium Deli down at Jones Beach when I got a call that I’ll Have Another was scratched because of a tendon.

Then last year, as night fell on the Belmont backstretch, I got a peek at California Chrome’s bandaged foot where he had been stepped on at the beginning of the race. There was only one conclusion: It takes a brave young horse to try for the Triple Crown and a great young horse to win. When it happens, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.