Funny Cide won the first leg of the Triple Crown at Churchill Downs.

He had that right. If not for the Derby, there's no compelling reason to go to Louisville, a city with a Southern style and a Midwestern pace. There's a lot more sky than skyline in the 'Ville, which exploits America's Race shamelessly by tripling motel rates and jacking up taxi fares and almost everything else you can think of. Yesterday, a beer in the infield cost $7, as did a Lynchburg Lemonade, a Jack Daniels concoction. A bottle of water went for $2.75, which would be outrageous even in the Sahara. After paying $40 for the privilege to hunker down among a fenced-in mob of about 50,000, all of this is a bit much. Getting drunk in a hurry eases the pain, and thousands do. By sundown, eligible designated drivers are in short supply.

Ah, God forgive me, but how I love it so. Whenever I walk through the gates on the morning of the first Saturday in May, I savor the buzz. I wasn't psyched about this Derby, but I knew I'd be in the mood once the day came. After 11 straight years here, the drill may be all too familiar but new absurdities always await on racing's longest day.

Here's Eddie Mac at the Track's Derby diary for the 129th running of the greatest show on dirt:

9 a.m. A television interviewer asks Tammy Faye Baker, former wife of evangelist Jim Baker, which horse she likes in the Derby. "Ten Most Wanted," she replies. Why? "Because two of my husbands went to prison."

And who says evangelical Christians have no sense of humor?

11:30 a.m. First post is at 11:15, and since I have no wagering interest until the third race, I avoid the anguish of the hideous traffic jam near Churchill Downs that begins around 9:30. Instead, my friend John Quinn and I drive to Trackside, an OTB about 10 miles away, and take the media shuttle. We get a dream trip through side streets. Being able to relax on the way to the track on Derby Day is a much more unusual feat than hitting the Derby superfecta.

11:55 p.m. Down here in the Bible Belt, Derby degeneracy has its vocal opponents. Outside the track is a sign condemning gambling, boozing, fornicating, smoking marijuana and just about everything else that the young (and some not so young) in the infield were planning to do.

12:18 p.m. Enter the zone of false security. Despite hundreds of local and state police, FBI guys and rent-a-cops, the screening procedure does not make me feel very safe from bad guys. A middle-aged woman opens my computer bag, sees my laptop and said, "OK, sir, you're good to go." The day before, the procedure was different but just as ineffectual. Two smiling state policemen asked me to empty my pockets, which held two sets of car keys and 48 cents. I opened my bag, which they glanced at before asking if I was carrying any knives. I left the Bowie knife (aka my Arkansas toothpick) back at the motel.

12:45 p.m. Lose a photo finish in the final jump for the fourth time in two days. I hope this is not an omen.

1:30 p.m. Maybe it was. Got a hot tip Friday on Proud Citizen, last year's Derby runner-up who hadn't run since the Belmont Stakes. The word was that Wayne Lukas loved his chances in the 7-furlong Churchill Downs Handicap, and at 6-1, so did I. Proud Citizen teases me by moving into third entering the stretch before flattening out and finishing ninth behind favored Aldebaran, trained by Bobby Frankel and ridden by Jerry Bailey. Minus $42. Sometimes I hate this game.

2:17 p.m. Gambling is the ultimate mood-altering drug, and a 2-year-old second-time starter named Limehouse makes me smile again by easily taking the Three Chimneys Juvenile and paying $15.60.

2:45 p.m. Empire Maker is favored at a surprisingly generous 4-1 in the early betting. This will change, of course, but does it mean he's a ridiculous overlay or dead on the board? The shifts and trends of the equine stock market often foretell what will happen before the gates open.

3:17 p.m. I'm alive in the Pick 4 when Frankel strikes again with 2-1 Heat Haze for what seems like his 8,003rd turf stakes win for Juddmonte Farms in the past four years. If Empire Maker or Peace Rules doesn't win the big one for Juddmonte, this victory will be forgotten instantly.

4:03 p.m. It's all Juddmonte, Frankel and Bailey again and my Pick 4 lives as Sightseek, the 4-5 chalk, coasts in the Grade I Humana Distaff Handicap for fillies and mares. Is this their day, or are they using up all of their good vibes too early?

4:54 p.m. Frankel and Juddmonte finally lose when Requete, whom I bet to win and place, runs second to 24-1 bomber Honor In War in the Woodford Reserve Turf Classic. I nominate the Woodford for most absurd result in a Grade I grass race in the past 10 years. Honor In War not only never had won a graded stakes, he'd never even run in one. Maybe my fury and bewilderment stems from ripping up my Pick 4 ticket.

5:01 p.m. Empire Maker is the lukewarm 4-1 favorite about an hour and 15 minutes before post time. Is this the betting opportunity of a lifetime or a signal that something is not right? I don't have to play him because I'm alive to him in a $148 Oaks/Derby double, and to Ten Most Wanted in a $300 will-pay. I'll box those two in exactas and hope. Otherwise, a trip to an ATM looms.

6:18 p.m. This gelding has … well, very manly attributes. Funny Cide shocks the world by leaving behind Empire Maker down the stretch to become the first gelding to win the Derby since 1929 and the first New York-bred ever to win it. Empire Maker, bet down to 5-2, appeared to be making a winning move on the stretch turn but Funny Cide, ridden by Jose Santos, had too much for him. Despite finishing only half a length behind Empire Maker in the Wood Memorial, Funny Cide went off at 12-1. He didn't even ship to Kentucky until three days before the race and is the first Derby winner not to work out at Churchill since Bold Forbes in 1976. He enjoyed a trouble-free trip just behind the pace, and the doubts about his young sire Distorted Humor's ability to sire distance horses were unfounded.

Santos and trainer Barclay Tagg, both first-time Derby winners, got virtually no attention during the week. Tagg, a 65-year-old former steeplechase rider, had never even been to a Derby, let alone taken part in one. After the Wood, as he was walking from the paddock to greet Funny Cide and Santos, he turned to a questioner and said, "Well, I guess I have to go to the Derby now."

Good thing he did.

The slogan of the New York lottery is "You never know.'' In this world, uncertainty is the only sure thing.