The Bandwagon

Oooooooh DAWGY, I be preachin’ straight outta the Book of Common Sense and half this crowd done left the church.

I’m tellin’ you—The Chief Wallabee bandwagon done rolled into town overnight like mushrooms after a summer rain. Folks actin’ like they discovered the second comin’ of Secretariat just ‘cause the man looked pretty and ran a fast workout. Bandwagon so packed they got folks ridin’ on the hood, hollerin’ “lock it in!” before they even checked the tires.

And look—I ain’t blind. That debut at Gulfstream Park?

Whew.

That was somethin’. He put The Puma in a blender and hit puree. Delgado clan struttin’ in like they had it all wrapped up, and The Chief said, “y’all go ahead and keep that confidence, I’ll take the race.” Blew through the wire like he had somewhere else to be. That’ll make anybody a believer.

But belief ain’t analysis, and hype ain’t evidence.

So I went pokin’ around. Not with a lab coat or nothin’, just watchin’ what actually happens when the gates open and the real questions get asked.

Now that Fountain of Youth—folks tried to dress that up like it was a character-building exercise. “He’s learnin’, he’s growin’.” Nah. He hung. Clear as day. And short stretch races will mess a young horse up quicker than bad advice at a family reunion. They start thinkin’ the job’s done before it actually is. That ain’t seasoning—that’s bad schooling.

Then comes the Florida Derby, and everybody’s yellin’ it’s the fastest prep since lightnin’ learned how to run. I’m sittin’ there like… are we watchin’ the same race?

The Puma looked like a winner in upper stretch, sure. But that right there is where the truth shows up. When a horse’s build and mechanics ain’t built for the long haul, fatigue don’t just slow ‘em—it exposes ‘em. That stride? Gone. Evaporated like cheap cologne in the last 16th.

Wide trip or not, that wasn’t just circumstance—that was limitation.

So then Commandment comes runnin’ late and gets the win. Good on him. But like we said—did he seize greatness, or did he pick up the pieces after The Puma unraveled?

And here’s where it gets real uncomfortable for the hype train…

The Chief hung too.

Same stretch. Same moment. Same questions. Same answer.

You don’t get to ignore that just ‘cause he looks good in slow-mo and the commentators got heart-eyes for him.

And them Delta figures? Three points slower than the top Kentucky Derby preps? That ain’t just a stat—that’s a red flag wavin’ in broad daylight. Folks can argue pace, trips, whatever they want—but numbers like that got a way of humblin’ loud opinions.

So now we’re left askin’ the question nobody in the wagon wants to hear:

Is The Chief a one-turn hammer, at this time, tryin’ to pass himself off as a two-turn thinker?

That maiden win? Grown-man energy. Professional. Powerful. But stretch him out, make him sustain it, make him finish—and suddenly he’s lookin’ like a teenager asked to do taxes. Little lost, little hesitant, not quite buttoned up.

And I’m with you—I don’t buy him as the main event. Not yet.

He’ll be on the ticket, sure. You’d be a fool to leave him off completely. But winnin’? That’s a different conversation. That’s where maturity, stamina, and mental grit all gotta show up at once—and right now, he ain’t provin’ he’s got the full package.

And the betting board’s tellin’ on folks, too. Media hollerin’ his name from the rooftops, but the odds sittin’ at 14-1? Meanwhile The Puma’s still takin’ respect at 9-2 despite his issues? That right there tells you the money crowd ain’t drinkin’ the Kool-Aid like the TV crowd is.

And don’t even get me started on these workout warriors. Lord have mercy. If a horse breezes fast, folks lose their minds. If he don’t, they wanna ship him off like expired milk. Ain’t nobody askin’ how the work happened. Was it a two-minute lick? Was he under wraps? Was he just stretchin’ his legs? This game ain’t a stopwatch contest—it’s a living, breathin’ animal with good days, bad days, and everything in between.

A fast work might look sexy in print…

…but it don’t tell you how that horse feels when the lights go off and the crowd goes home.

And that right there? That’s the part most folks never bother to understand.

So yeah—let ‘em have their wagon. Let ‘em hitch up that wagon and ride it straight into Derby day.

Me?

I’ll be standin’ off to the side, ticket in hand, watchin’ real careful…

waitin’ to see who's circling the wagons.