William Nack's Kentucky Derby Memories

William Nack, who passed away earlier this year, is considered one of the greatest horse racing writers of all-time. I am not a huge fan of the sport, nor am I particularly knowledgeable about it, but I respect greatness in any endeavor, so I read with interest an article by Nack in the December 31, 2018 issue of Sports Illustrated. The article is an excerpt from a memoir that Nack was working on before he died and it tells the story of the race that, as the article's subtitle puts it, "inspired his lifelong love of the sport--the 1958 Kentucky Derby."

Nack recalls his uncle Ed Feeney, then a sports photographer for the Chicago Tribune, inviting him to go to the 1958 Kentucky Derby. Nack was just 17 at the time, a horse racing fanatic who had not yet attended the race of his dreams. Nack soaked up every minute of the experience.

A few years earlier, he had memorized the names of every Kentucky Derby winner since the initial 1875 race. In 1971, as Nack describes it, his journalism career was "plodding along as a political writer at Newsday" when that memorized list helped change his life forever. At the newspaper's Christmas party, Nack recited the list and the newspaper's editor, David Laventhol, asked Nack, "Why do you know that?" Nack told him about his love for the Kentucky Derby and his trip to the 1958 event, and within minutes Laventhol tapped Nack to be the newspaper's new thoroughbread racing writer.

The rest is history.

In 2008, Nack returned to the Kentucky Derby and posed for a picture right by the spot where he had stood 50 years earlier to watch Tim Tam beat Lincoln Road by half a length.

Nack's article concludes on a note that could bring a wistful tear even to the most cynical eye:

Alas, all of them from those good old days are turned to fading shadows now and gone--Ed and Dave, Mom and Dad, Ben and Jimmy, Tim Tim and Gen. Duke, Charlie and the Shoe, Lincoln Road and Silky Sullivan, all those pretty horses.

Long gone, so long.

All these years later, I can still see them all. And I cannot shake, not in my dreams, not in my sleepless hammock reveries, that haunting line from William Faulkner set to the poignant rhythms of his poetry: "The past is never dead. It's not even past."