“THE LONGEST SHOT” and “AT LONG LAST, THE LIONS ROAR”

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792. BELMONT STAKES

JUNE 8, 2002

BELMONT RACEWAY

QUALITY OF PLAY—6.85

DRAMA—8.22

STAR POWER—6.65

CONTEMPORARY IMPORT—8.50

HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE—7.15

LOCAL IMPACT—6.46

TOTAL: 43.83

“THE LONGEST SHOT”

War Emblem was a monster three-year old horse in 2002, a clear favorite to win the Kentucky Derby, which he did wire-to-wire. He then followed that up with another cruise to victory at the Preakness Stakes, knocking off the second leg of the Triple Crown with contemptuous ease. So there seemed little doubt that, at last, we would have a horse win the Crown for the first time in a quarter-century, since Affirmed did it in 1978.

Owned by Saudi Prince Ahmed bin Salman, Emblem had been injured as a two-year old, and was bought for the prince by legendary trainer Bob Baffert, who saw something in the black colt. He certainly saw speed, along with testiness. War Emblem was known around the stables as “Hannibal Lecter,” because he tried to bite everyone who came near him, regardless of species. If anthropomorphism is your thing, this horse was a conceited, temperamental diva. The key to every race Emblem ran was the start. If he got out normally, he raced to the front and was impossible to run down. But he had a tendency to snort and fuss in the gate, and would often bang and clang, impatient to run free. A slow start as the result of a fouled start was not something Baffert ever wanted to see.

New York racing fans were eager to see War Emblem clear the gate and run to the tape for an historic victory, so much so that a record 103,222 people came out to Belmont Park on Saturday, June 8, 2002 to witness history. One person wasn’t there, however—Prince Salman, who had been in Louisville and Pimlico but didn’t make it to the Belmont, perhaps jittery over his reception in the City where 19 of his countrymen had attacked the World Trade Center with hijacked aircraft less than a year before. It was an ill omen, perhaps, if anyone was seeking one. 

There were other decent horses in the field, including Proud Citizen, runner-up in the Derby and a show at the Preakness, and Perfect Drift, third at Churchill Downs. One entry in the 11-horse field few were talking about, or had even heard of, was Sarava, a dark bay sire of the great Wild Again with a modest racing history. “Sarava” is a common greeting in Brazil meaning “I wish you good luck,” but that had been in short supply in the stallion’s racing career. 

He went to Europe but was winless as a two-year old, and after a return to the Great 48 under new trainer Ken McPhee Sarava didn’t even bother to enter the Derby or Preakness in his three-year old summer. But McPhee knew Sarava could handle the mile and a half distance, so they brought him to New York for the final leg of racing’s greatest series. He was an unknown quantity, so went off at 70-1, but savvy handicappers noted that his rider was Hall of Fame jockey Edgar Prado. 

The excitement built to a deafening crescendo at just past 6 PM, when the bell sounded and the gate rose to begin the 134th running of the Belmont. Ironically, Sarava bucked and balked before entering the gate; War Emblem was likewise his usual high-strung self before the start. But at the bell, Sarava went off clean, while War Emblem stumbled out, nearly scraping a knee on the dirt and running skittishly thereafter. Jockey Victor Espinoza did all he could, but the front-running thoroughbred never threatened the leaders. He disliked being amid other horses, and fought his jockey at every maneuver. “He doesn’t like getting dirt kicked in his face,” was McPeek’s take. War Emblem would finish a crushing 8th, nearly twenty lengths behind the winner. It was the fourth time in six years that the winner of the first two Crown races had stumbled at the Belmont—in this case, literally. 

Since it was apparent this race would not end in a Triple Crown coronation, the crowd began to scream for the long shot—Sarava. Prado kept Sarava on the outside for the long backstretch, then pounced at the mile mark. He took the lead at the turn—“A huge upset is brewing!” noted the race announcer, Tom Durkin—and battled nose-to-nose with Medaglia d’Oro (“Gold Medal”) to the wire. Sarava managed to hold off the more fancied horse with the distinctive three white socks, and captured the race by a nose. 

“Sarava has won!!!” screamed Durkin. “The biggest long shot in the history of the Belmont Stakes at 70-1!!” Medaglia d’Oro came in a valiant second, with Sunday Break in third. “It’s a dream come true,” said Prado, a broad smile on his face. It had been an excellent, confident steerage of his unheralded horse.

Anyone canny or lucky enough to plunk down a few shekels on Sarava was rewarded with an immense payday—$142.50 to win! Sarava’s owners received $600,000 for the victory. And the enormous throng went home disappointed that War Emblem had failed to win, or even race, really, but assuaged by being a witness to history regardless.

AFTERMATH:

Sarava’s career didn’t see much action after the stunning win at the Belmont. He won just once in three more years before going to stud in Ocala, Florida. His career earnings were roughly three-quarters of a million dollars, the lion’s share of it coming on that one late summer afternoon on Long Island. 

War Emblem and Sarava would cross paths again—many times, presumably, as they shared a retiree farm, Old Friends in Georgetown, Kentucky, after their racing and stud days were over. 

WHAT THEY SAID:

''It was lost at the start. If I was on the walkie-talkie, I would have told Victor to pull him up. I didn't want him to go a mile and a half like that.''

—Bob Baffert, War Emblem’s trainer

FURTHER READING:

“Early Stumble Dooms War Emblem’s Triple Crown Bid,” by Joe Drape, The New York Times

VIDEO:

791. COLUMBIA LIONS VS PRINCETON TIGERS

IVY LEAGUE PLAYOFF

MARCH 5, 1968

ALUMNI HALL

QUALITY OF PLAY—6.99

DRAMA—7.46

STAR POWER—6.83

CONTEMPORARY IMPORT—8.04

HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE—6.73

LOCAL IMPACT—7.79

TOTAL: 43.84

“AT LONG LAST, THE LIONS ROAR”

The Ivy League in the 1960s is widely associated with strife from youth culture and protests against the Vietnam War. Other, less political observers think of the period as a golden age of Princeton basketball. The hardwood Tigers dominated the conference, winning the title six of the first eight seasons in the decade, paced for some of that time by the legendary Bill Bradley, who led PU to the Final Four in 1965, while also leading the nation in ink spilled by the press extolling his virtues.

The 1967-68 Tigers were in a moment of transition, however, with coach Butch van Breda Kolff having jumped to the NBA to coach the L.A. Lakers. The new man on the Princeton sideline was a dour little Pennsylvanian named Pete Carril, who would institute a backcut-heavy, fundamentally strong scheme called the “Princeton Offense” along with an emphasis on excellent defense that would serve him well in south-central New Jersey for the next three decades.

In 1967-68 Carril was still getting his feet wet in the Ivy League, having only coached a single season of college hoops (at Lehigh) to date. Still, his team was strong, and expected to cruise to the title. But they faced an unexpected challenge from an unlikely source—Columbia. The Lions were the annual doormat in the league, despite being the lone team in the conference from the center of the b-ball universe. But a newcomer was on hand to change matters.

The Lions’ lion was Jim McMillian, a sophomore who grew up in the East New York  section of Brooklyn and was a coveted recruit out of Thomas Jefferson High. Columbia was hardly the most prominent basketball program that offered the 6’5” forward, but the idea of a high-quality education so close to home was enough to get McMillian to matriculate in Manhattan.

Columbia and McMillian showed it was a new day uptown by shockingly winning the annual Holiday Festival at Madison Square Garden, beating #2 Louisville and heavily-favored St. John’s along the way. They went on to win 16 straight games and surge to the top of the Ivy. This was the age of freshman ineligibility, so McMillian was showing the Ivies his wide repertoire of skills for the first time in ’67-’68.

The 20-3 Lions could clinch the conference championship on the final day of the season, but they would have to defeat the bullies from Princeton in New Jersey to do so. The Tigers won 68-59, led by their own star sophomore forward, John Hummer, who outplayed McMillian in their head-to-head matchup. Princeton thus tied CU and forced a one-game playoff to decide the league title, and the NCAA Tournament bid that came with it.

The Ivy League commissioners did the Lions an enormous favor when they chose, as the supposedly neutral setting for the game, Alumni Hall, on the St. John’s campus in Queens. Princeton is deceptively far from NYC, in terms of driving distance, while Lions supporters could hop an easy subway or crosstown bus from Morningside Heights to Jamaica for the game. As such, the vast majority of the 6,005 in attendance on Tuesday night, March 5, 1968, were wearing the powder-blue of Columbia. Ironically, McMillian had chosen Columbia over St. John’s during his recruitment.

McMillian’s usual tendency was to let the game come to him, while sitting back early so his teammates could get into the flow. Not in this game. He went hard from the opening tip, scoring seven of Columbia’s first 11 points, and had 19 at halftime on an array of silky jumpers and strong takes to the hole. 

Another key for the Lions was the return of 7-footer Dave Newmark. He had missed the last four games of the season with a severely sprained ankle, but got healthy enough to play. He tipped in a rebound to open the game, and scored 8 points in a preview of Willis Reed’s inspirational performance, writ small. His sheer bulk took the Tigers out of their preferred screen and roll game inside. 

Incredibly, the Lions built their lead to 20 points with five minutes left. “The measure of the awe in which Ivy fans hold Princeton is the way Columbia rooters refused to start chanting ‘It’s all over’ until the last minute of play,” wrote the Daily News. 

McMillian finished with 37 points and 10 rebounds, and also mostly shut down Hummer despite the size disadvantage. It was the signature game of McMillian’s career with the Lions, and it gave him the sophomore scoring record at the school, breaking the record set by the future iconic director of Monday Night Football, Chet Forte, in 1955. 

The Lions were 21-4, and on their way, shockingly, to the NCAA Tournament.

AFTERMATH:

Columbia went on to win its first tournament game ever, taking out La Salle by 14 points in the East Regional at College Park, Maryland. They then fell in a tight 2-point game to Davidson (they played a third-place regional game in those days, and Columbia capped its memorable season by beating St. Bonaventure by 20). 

Two months later, the euphoria turned to anguish when massive anti-war demonstrations tore the Columbia campus apart.

McMillian had two more sensational seasons at Columbia, setting the school scoring record (since broken, but by a four-year player, not just three). The Lions went 63-14 while McMillian was there, though they didn’t win the Ivy again (Princeton rebounded the following season before Penn took over for the majority of the 70s), and indeed have not been back to the NCAA Tournament since that 1968 high water mark. McMillian played nine NBA seasons, including a spell with the Knicks, and won a title with the Lakers. 

WHAT THEY SAID:

“The victory proved indeed that someday the meek may inherit the earth.”

—Larry Fox, New York Daily News

FURTHER READING:

The Smart Take From the Strong by Pete Carril with Dan White

VIDEO: