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11 0 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 4.14 the roller of the door in place were already replaced. A farm foreman and Alydar's former trainer, John Veitch, said Alydar had never been a kicker or difcult to manage. But in the end, judges ruled that there wasn't enough evidence to try Lundy in the case. He was instead sentenced to four years in prison for bank fraud and bribery related to the First City National dealings with Cihak. Eddie Kane is, of course, aware of all the details and theories, but he doesn't ofer an opinion. "You know, you'd hate to think they did anything like that," he says of the Alydar incident. Kane has a deep appreciation for the farm's history but that he watches Blame and War Front from his ofce window have regular meetings around 10:15 each morning. "I'd love to know what they talk about," he muses with an anthropomorphic seriousness not uncommon among people who work around horses. If Blame is as human as he seems, let's hope he isn't the self-aware type. Despite the brilliance of his career, the aptly named horse was viewed as something of a spoiler by the legions of Zenyatta fans disappointed in the outcome of the Breeders' Cup. Controversially, Zenyatta was awarded the 2010 Horse of the Year Eclipse despite the fact that both horses lost one race during the season with Blame winning the only head-to- head matchup. If it sounds absurd holding a grudge against a horse, how about sending one hate mail? Claiborne received it by the hundreds of pieces in the aftermath of the race. Sams — now half amused, half pissed of by the whole afair — reads a profanity- laced email he received. Te opening sentence was by far the nicest: "Blame is a hack." Fortunately, Blame seems undaunted and more interested in the peppermints in Niehaus' jacket. Maybe the ultra-successful are more immune to criticism? "Who is that guy," I ask as a slender, sleek- looking horse catches my attention. "Tat's Orb," Niehaus says with nonchalance. "You mean, just the Derby winner last year?" I ask. Niehaus sees my point and manages a laugh. "Yeah, nobody important," he says. I've seen a few Derby winners in person, even put my hands on some, but never one so closely removed from his greatest triumph. Orb is more playful and leaner than the other stallions, noticeably devoid of the thick middle and neck that older stallions develop as their exercise routines decrease and calories increase. In other words, he looks more than capable of still kicking a little butt on the track if he had to. Orb grew up on the farm with his mother, Lady Liberty, representing the constant churn of successful Claiborne horses. From Orb's paddock, Arch, Blame's daddy, can be seen sunning himself and enjoying the simple pleasures of old age. Success breeds success. B ack at Calumet, the physical reminders of success are everywhere, but so, too, are the reminders of its failures. Among J.T. Lundy's frst cosmetic moves, he installed those trademark red iron gates and shelled out a reported 12 grand a month for the repair, replacement and upkeep of those white four-board fences. A million went to a therapeutic equine swimming facility that now sits unused with its windows partially boarded. Another million went to an equine hospital on the grounds that Calumet currently only uses for storage, although the building still bears the veterinary medical insignia on its facing. It's the same building where renowned equine surgeon Dr. Larry Bramlage attempted the futile surgery on Alydar's leg. On the second foor of the main ofces once refurbished by Lundy, there's a sparsely used meeting room and a surprisingly modest corner ofce where, an anonymous source once told me, Lundy could sometimes be found eating ice cream and watching cartoons in his underwear. Apparently not all his hobbies were expensive. But it's the stallion barn that's the most telling tangible artifact. When successful, it housed the murderers' row of Toroughbred racehorses. When unsuccessful, it might only have housed a murder. Out of respect, and perhaps sympathy, Alydar's old stall has never been home to another horse; the brass nameplate on the door bears his name and the names of his Calumet predecessors who once occupied the infamous quarters. In the years that followed his death, an F.B.I. investigation, a book and enough mainstream-media interest on the subject left few believers that Alydar's death was an accident. Lundy had a clear motive. Wild Ride's Auerbach would later say that Alydar was more like "a maxed-out credit card" than a "golden goose" for Lundy at the time of the horse's fatal leg fracture. An MIT professor found that Alydar would have been incapable of injuring himself as suggested by Calumet and the veterinarians who cared for him after the trauma. Since the horse's fracture was a torquing injury — one characterized by twisting and turning — it was originally thought that he had kicked his stall door of the metal roller and subsequently caught his leg in the small gap created between the door and his stall. He must have panicked and broken the leg attempting to free the limb, the theory posited. But MIT's George Pratt visited the farm and devised an equation that concluded a horse could only generate a force of one-third the amount required to accomplish such a feat. Tere were other circumstantial factors pointing toward murder. A devoted night watchman was asked to take the night of. X-rays of the broken leg were inexplicably removed from Calumet's fles. Insurance investigators arriving the next morning after the accident were surprised to see the stall swept and cleaned. Te two bolts that held 98-111.indd 110 3/19/14 5:37 PM