On racing's biggest days the information mill grinds with monumental force. And the rumblings can be heard everywhere, even in the equalizer of all stations lofty and somewhat lower--the men's room.

My love for the sport of Thoroughbred racing was born on a gray, August dawn at Saratoga. The great Texas sportswriter Blackie Sherrod had written that Saratoga was "the granddaddy of American racetracks," so I had to go.

I'm terrible with good-byes. I cry at Hallmark commercials and dopey movies. So I knew the day that I said farewell to Rewrite, the mare my sister Kathy and I owned, would require plenty of Kleenex.

I have had the pleasure to witness two Breeders' Cup World Championships live, as an observer at Monmouth Park last year and as an active participant this year at Santa Anita. Leaving the breathtaking vista of the San Gabriel Mountains, I contemplated the decisions we made in the last 12 months and the short- and long-term implications for the Breeders' Cup. Let me share some of those thoughts.