Mine That Bird ❤️🐴 – The $9,500 Derby Champion
In the grand theater of the Kentucky Derby, where million-dollar pedigrees and gleaming contenders parade before crowds dressed in silks and hats, Mine That Bird stood out—but not for the usual reasons. He was small. Short-legged. Purchased for just $9,500 as a yearling. On the morning of May 2, 2009, he was a name buried deep in the program, a 50–1 longshot who had been shipped from New Mexico in the back of a modest trailer hitched to a pickup truck.
There was no sleek air travel, no convoy of horse vans. Just a long, grinding road trip east from the Southwest, through rain and across the heartland, to Churchill Downs. His trainer, Bennie “Chip” Woolley Jr., drove the rig himself—his leg in a cast from a recent motorcycle accident—hobbling in and out at rest stops on crutches. It was an arrival that looked more like the start of a county fair than the most prestigious race in America.
A Field Full of Giants
That Derby field was loaded with stars: Friesan Fire, the Louisiana Derby winner; Pioneerof the Nile, trained by Bob Baffert; Dunkirk, the buzz horse from Todd Pletcher’s barn. They had spotless racing silks, polished records, and owners expecting roses.
Mine That Bird? He was Canadian champion at two, but his U.S. form was uninspiring—he’d finished fourth in the Sunland Derby. The experts barely mentioned him. NBC’s pre-race analysts gave him a passing shrug, a 50–1 afterthought.
Small, overlooked, and handled by an unheralded trainer from New Mexico—he seemed out of place in the Twin Spires’ shadow.
Calvin Borel: The Right Partner
If Mine That Bird had a secret weapon, it was his jockey: Calvin Borel. Known as “Bo-rail” for his uncanny ability to thread the inside rail, Borel had a knack for giving longshots the ride of their life. He’d won the 2007 Derby on Street Sense, hugging the fence to victory.
Borel studied the track that Derby morning. Heavy rain had turned it into a sloppy, muddy mess—a condition that often favors horses who can skim the inside and save ground. It was the kind of surface and trip that could flip the script on the favorites.
The Break: Dead Last
The gate sprang open, and Mine That Bird immediately stumbled, dropping far behind. Within seconds, he was dead last, trailing the leaders by almost a dozen lengths. The call from announcer Tom Durkin barely mentioned him—his name lost in the shuffle of 18 other horses charging into the first turn.
But Borel didn’t panic. He let the little gelding find his feet, settle into stride, and save his energy. The rest of the field, slick with mud, fought for early position. Up front, the pace was hot—too hot for a mile and a quarter on such a tiring surface.
The Rail Run
As they reached the far turn, Borel went to work. He guided Mine That Bird inward, tucking him tight against the rail. The crowd’s attention was still on the favorites battling up front, but in the backstretch shadows, a small chestnut was quietly gobbling up ground.
At the quarter pole, Borel saw daylight inside the pack. In a move that has since become Derby legend, he pointed Mine That Bird directly through gaps that barely seemed wide enough for a horse. Splashing through the mud, they threaded the needle, horse after horse falling away behind them.
Flying Past the Favorites
Then came the final turn—and the explosion. Mine That Bird, ears pinned, surged up the rail like he’d been shot out of a cannon. Borel never swung wide, never wasted a step. They overtook the leaders in a matter of seconds. Pioneerof the Nile tried to rally. Musket Man dug in. But the little gelding from New Mexico wasn’t stopping.
With the crowd gasping, Mine That Bird powered through the stretch, mud flying, opening a gap that seemed to grow with every stride. By the time they crossed the wire, the margin was 6¾ lengths—one of the largest in Derby history in the modern era. Durkin’s incredulous call said it all:
“Mine That Bird has won the Kentucky Derby! An impossible result here!”
From Afterthought to Legend
The official margin in the books reads five lengths ahead of Musket Man, but the emotional gap between expectation and reality was immeasurable. The tote board lit up with a $103.20 payout on a $2 win ticket—one of the biggest in Derby history.
Borel stood in the irons after the wire, his face spattered with mud, beaming. Mine That Bird, lungs pumping but ears flicking calmly, seemed almost unfazed by what he’d done. In two minutes and two seconds, he had gone from overlooked outsider to the heart of racing’s greatest fairy tale.
After the Derby
Mine That Bird’s Triple Crown journey didn’t end in Louisville, but the magic of that day was never quite replicated. Two weeks later in the Preakness Stakes, he produced another thrilling rally—this time from far back—to finish a close second to Rachel Alexandra, one of the best fillies in modern history. In the Belmont Stakes, he ran third after a wide trip.
He never won another race in the Triple Crown series. But in truth, he didn’t need to. The 2009 Kentucky Derby was his masterpiece, his immortal moment.
Why His Story Endures
Mine That Bird’s victory wasn’t just about speed—it was about heart, circumstances, and the unshakable belief of a few people who saw beyond his price tag and modest frame. It was about a trainer in a pickup, a jockey with perfect instincts, and a horse who, on one wet afternoon, found something extra inside himself.
In a sport often dominated by wealth and reputation, Mine That Bird reminded the world that greatness can come from anywhere. He didn’t look the part. He didn’t cost the part. But for two minutes on the first Saturday in May, he was the best in the world.
And maybe that’s why the memory of Mine That Bird still draws smiles from fans today—because every so often, the underdog doesn’t just win. He soars.
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