The early odds say no Smarty Jones this year

MIDWAY, Ky. -- The love affair hasn't cooled one bit.

A year after he set the nation's heart fluttering, Smarty Jones still possesses the looks, charm and self-assuredness of a champion. A movie is already in the works. And now, on top of all that, he's got ... the life.

Retired at stud on a breeding farm in the rolling hills near Lexington, barely an hour's drive east from the Churchill Downs racetrack where a Derby victory in 2004 catapulted Smarty Jones into America's sporting constellation forever, the 4-year-old chestnut spends his days lounging, lunching and -- how to put this delicately? -- loving.

Morning, afternoon and night.

"He's taken to his new career with gusto," said Dan Rosenberg, president of Three Chimneys Farm.

On this sun-splashed Thursday afternoon, Smarty Jones naps on the floor of a large stall that once belonged to Seattle Slew inside a handsomely decked-out barn along with five other distinguished stallions. Imagine the equine equivalent of MTV's "Cribs," or "The Real World," and you have the picture. He gets bathed each morning, eats when he wants, and roams a 2-acre paddock under the stars each night. He even has a two person-staff to handle the crush of mail and requests for strands of hair or straws of hay from his bed, and book his string of appointments.

Five days a week, every week, a single tour group numbering 25 comes through to see him up close, to gaze into the dark, lively eyes flickering beneath the fringe of hair that still falls across his face like a trademark. Up to three times a day during thoroughbred mating season, from mid-February through July (88 times so far; 111 by the end), a mare is ushered into a breeding shed to the south of Smarty's stall to be -- as they say in the industry -- covered.

His stud fee is $100,000 per live foal, not bad for a horse who retired with $7.6 million in earnings, the third-best total ever. That's why mares have dropped by from as far away as Germany and Japan. Each session in the shed -- actually another handsome barn, complete with pine paneling, thickly padded walls and shredded-tire floors -- is videotaped to guarantee paternity. If there was a bathrobe hanging from a hook, the place would look like Hugh Hefner did the decorating.

"The tough thing with the schedule is making sure he doesn't get too tired," explained Margaret Layton, Three Chimneys' publicist. "He does have an occupation."

The race that turned Smarty Jones and his band of human brothers into instant celebrities will be run in nearby Louisville for the 131st time Saturday. Afterward, the winning horse will be draped with a blanket of roses and his jockey, trainer and owners interviewed on national television. Whether any or all of them connect with the sporting public the way Smarty Jones did remains to be seen.

But the odds are a lot longer than the 50-1 you can get at a betting window on the longest shot in the Derby field.

"I'm still not sure exactly why things happened the way they did," John Servis, Smarty's trainer, said over the telephone from Churchill Downs.

"But on the inside, it felt like we were part of a play that had already been written. You had this little, Pennsylvania-bred from a $10,000 sire who damn near killed himself before we could even point him toward the Derby. Meanwhile, the owner is in a wheelchair battling emphysema, and the rest of us are kind of blue-collar guys from Philadelphia.

"It was like we were a bunch of actors," Servis paused, "there just to sit back and enjoy the ride."

A year later, after the elation and a record win in the Preakness, then the staggering disappointment of a Triple Crown bid undone in the grueling Belmont, the principals in the drama are relatively healthy, happy and well off.

Servis and jockey Stewart Elliott, who were kings at tiny Philadelphia Park, but unknowns in racing's elite circles before the Derby, have ridden fame to better and more varied opportunities. Well-heeled clients now find their way to Servis' barn offering better prospects, and Elliott gets called to ride quality mounts at Monmouth Park and Aqueduct, both a step up racing's food chain from their gritty little base in Philly.

The duo nearly made it back to Churchill Downs this spring, but a poor showing by Rockport Harbor in the Lexington Stakes two weeks ago sidelined their star-crossed Derby candidate for the time being.

"It was disappointing, because it seemed like he had that something special, too," Elliott said, taking time out from a drive to Monmouth Park to answer his cell phone. "But it reminded me just how magical last year was, how everything that had to fall into place did."

Owners Pat and Roy Chapman are still wintering in Florida, back to keeping a much lower profile in the racing business. Roy, the blunt-speaking Philadelphia car dealer, continues to battle emphysema and turned 79 on Wednesday. The couple's sons, Mike and Randy, represented them at the Smarty party set up Thursday at Three Chimneys.

"None of us will ever forget it, and the topic comes up all the time," Mike said. "Just not every time we talk anymore."

None of the principals knows whether they'll ever see another horse like Smarty, nor even whether they'll run across one of his foals, which won't make their Derby debut until 2008. But all of them are hoping for just one.

"I feel like it could happen again, absolutely," Servis said. "It just feels like this play hasn't ended yet. like somehow, there's more to come."

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Jim Litke is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press. Write to him at jlitkeap.org