The horses this Derby aren’t up to speed, I’ve read. Foreigners (“furriners”?) have bought the best mares and sires and whisked them away. They are breeding now on other shores, their progeny are bypassing American tracks; they are racing in Europe and elsewhere.

I don’t compare times. When the horses pound the back stretch and round the final turn, they always seem fast to me. But I wonder if there is a collective failure of nerve, an unwillingness to take risks. I wonder if we’ve stopped looking for the bright eyed foal who can’t behave himself. If we are too enamored with ease.