The horses weren’t the only animals trudging through the slop at the 151st running of the Kentucky Derby on May 3, 2025. In the sparser-than-usual grass area, attendees clomped through puddles of mud, spilled drinks, and other things I’d rather not think about.
I didn’t grow up going to the Derby. My family stuck to another side of the city, away from the traffic of the track, and just went to Derby parties with family where the most someone bet on the Twin Spires website was $20 if someone was feeling especially risky. During my time in college, I have been able to attend a couple of Kentucky Derbies, mostly at the behest of my out-of-town friends who want a place to stay and a tour guide of the city. However, this was my first Derby writing for LEO, and I was racking my brain with what to write about.
I’d been granted access to areas of Churchill Downs I’d never even been on a normal day, like the Owner’s Circles, the Homestretch Club, and various clubhouses. Should I write about the high-dollar locations highlighted on every news broadcast, the ones that elevate the Kentucky Derby to a prestigious event for the people that can cough up $2,000+, or should I focus on the infield, the place I’d been a couple of times before? Ultimately, I decided to mix it. What exactly are the differences between the cheapest tickets and the ones that are focused on TV (other than a couple thousand, obviously)?
Related
Meet the Artist Behind Louisville’s Most Mind-Blowing Projection Art
The Homestretch Club isn’t what Hunter S. Thompson wrote about in his groundbreaking article “The Kentucky Derby Is Decadent and Depraved” in 1970. The focus of that article was the infield where the locals go. Where men sneak in drinks in their underwear and where women pour vodka into water bottles that they tape to their legs under their pastel-colored dresses. This is where I went at the beginning of the day with a few friends.
We arrived at the second turn right after the first race, threw our folding chairs down, and planted our feet in the grass that would soon be destroyed. As the rain continued to pour down, worms slowly worked their way out of the mud. A nearby group seemed to have a pretty good time, throwing worms at each other and putting them down each other’s shirts. My friends and my “nice” clothes were quickly ruined, our pants covered in mud and our shirts totally waterlogged. The shooters my friend had snuck in his sock were quickly confiscated by a staff member, leaving him with only $22 worth of mint juleps and $13 worth of Bud Lights he could buy from the concession stand.
After sitting in the rain for a few hours, occasionally getting up to place bets or buy an overpriced drink, I decided to explore a bit with my media credentials. Sure, it was leaving my friends, but I had to see what everyone raved about up in the stands, in the clubhouses, and in the suites. I left the infield and walked around Churchill Downs to get to the front entrance you use on a regular day, when the tickets are only around $12. Street drummers under umbrellas rhythmically pounded on garbage cans and plastic drums. Street preachers yelled at me and told me that I was going to hell, while right next to them a man was selling t-shirts that featured a statement about a certain physical act I don’t think I’m allowed to put in print.
I must have looked insane when I got to the stands. Covered in mud, my pants felt about five pounds heavier. My shirt was a regular light pink on my torso and hot pink on my sleeves from where my plastic poncho was unable to block the rain. Everyone else was dry, perfectly put together. None of the women had ponchos wrapped around their hats like the ones in the infield. I maneuvered my way to the second-floor clubhouse, the owners’ boxes, and eventually the Homestretch Club.
Related
Thousands Could Lose Internet Access As Kentucky Ends Contract With Fiber Optic Network Manager
The place is a maze. It’s always tough to get your way around Churchill. But on Derby Day, with the walls of security and gates, it becomes a proper labyrinth. In the Homestretch Club, which I just stumbled upon, was a packed room of well-dressed guests standing around at tables, eating the free pulled pork, potato salad, and macaroni from the buffet while watching the races on the televisions, not stepping out into their reserved seats in the rain. The beers and cocktails were free as well. I called my mom, who was watching TV at home.
“They just showed that place on television!” she’d said. “Looked kind of boring.”
I couldn’t really prove her wrong. Aside from the free food and drinks (which aren’t really free considering the tickets were more than $2,000), it wasn’t much. Everyone kept to themselves. They stood huddled around in small circles; I couldn’t really strike up a conversation with anyone. After a while of chatting with a security guard about how I felt much more at home in the infield, he told me some news I didn’t like to hear. That’s when he told me that this was the last year for the infield. After pausing the billion-dollar renovation to the infield this year to allow for general admission, next year’s Derby infield attendees won’t be so lucky. The spacious green field will now be replaced with expensive suites. Upon hearing that, I knew I wanted to get back to the infield for the 151st Kentucky Derby race.
I got back to the infield an hour and a half after I left. The ground was even muddier. The crowd was even rowdier. The lines to bet were even longer. Whoops and yells echoed out of the tunnel that goes underneath the track. I made it back to my friends, where one of them that didn’t get caught pulled a small bottle of Jack Daniels out of his pants and gave me a swig. There were no free drinks or food, no televisions to stay out of the rain, just a mob of people drinking their weight in booze to stay warm and putting trash bags over their lawn chairs to try and keep their asses dry when they sat back down.
But in my eyes, the infield was the place to be. As the horses settled into the gates, most of the people in the stands weren’t even looking down onto the track.
I don’t think any of them had as much fun as that group of kids in mud up to their ankles at the second turn, throwing worms at each other and drinking 99-cent vodka they’d snuck in their socks.
Related Stories
Thousands Could Lose Internet Access As Kentucky Ends Contract With Fiber Optic Network Manager
Meet the Artist Behind Louisville’s Most Mind-Blowing Projection Art
Kentuckiana Pride Foundation Unveils 2025 ‘Love And Pride ’25’ Pride Week Lineup Featuring Hotel Takeover Dance Parties And More
This article appears in Apr 25 – May 8, 2025.