Like any great athlete who retires after winning it all, American Pharoah is entitled to the good life. Or, in his case, the great life. Much has been made recently of the Triple Crown winner’s post-career living conditions, which can best be described as a mashup of MTV Cribs and the best spring break you ever had.
It’s too soon to know if Nyquist, this year’s Derby winner, can duplicate that success but if AP had a chance to whisper in his ear during a friendly trot around the track, it might help. American Pharoah: “Sooooooo, you might wanna pick up the pace a little Ny-Guy, just saying.”
Nyquist: “How come? I got a pretty good gig here. I got a lot of rich people with bourbon breath giving me plenty to eat…”
AP: “OK, let me explain what happens if you win the Triple Crown. It’s like if a human wins the powerball. Except I’m an athlete and not a metal roof salesman with a naggy wife and a grown daughter who lives in the basement eating spray cheese all day.”
N: “Whaaaa?”
AP: “Lemme dumb it down for you. Typical day: I get up for breakfast when I’m good and ready. I mosey out of my 200-square foot stall inside a huge stone barn and then chow on a few buckets of the finest grains you’ll ever see.”
“Then, and you’re not gonna believe this, they bring over a mare, a good looking one, too. And, get this. Her parents pay my parents $200,000 for me to have sex with her.”
N: “You’re making that up.”
AP: “Neeeeiiiigggh, I’m not. OK, so as soon as she’s gone, I have lunch. Yuuuuuge lunch….”
N: “Don’t you ever get gassy?”
AP: “Listen up oatbrain. This is important. Because, after lunch, another mare comes over for a little one-on-one time if you know what I mean and I think you do.”
N: “Whoa!!!!!”
AP: And that was another $200,000! They pay me to do it! After that, I pretty much hang out, greet the “tourists” who are terrible dressers and have little exterior bladders they wear around their waists. It’s disgusting.
N: “What happens then?”
AP: “Well, by then, it’s time for a rubdown, massage and grooming time. Sometimes I actually roll in the mud and make ‘em clean me up all over again. You know, braid the tail, tell me I’m awesome and then it’s time for supper.”
N: “This sounds like the dream, man.”
AP: “That’s not all! Every now and then, they bring in a little nighttime filly just for fun. I mean they still pay $200,000. Sometimes I’m too tired but if there’s nothing good on cable, well…I rally. Did you know that 80 percent of the time, I make a baby horse? I’m like that guy with all the wives on TLC. Except smarter.”
N: (whinnies loudly in appreciation)
AP: “Good luck, Ny-Guy! Gotta go. Hey. This one looks kinda wild-eyed. This could be some fun…”
Celia Rivenbark is the New York Times best-selling author of “Rude B****** Make Me Tired.” Visit www.celiarivenbark.com.
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