Hennessy, horses and huge money: Inside the most important horse auction in the world

Perched on a stool at a high-top table, his back against a window at the farthest recess of a very crowded room, Bill Farish wears a white ballcap, a vest over a blue-checked shirt and a pair of khakis. He rests his chin on his left hand and, every now and again, he casually raises his index finger.

To his right sits Cherie DeVaux , trainer of Golden Tempo, the 2026 Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes winner. To his left sits Terry Finley, president of West Point Thoroughbreds and part owner of Always Dreaming, the 2017 Derby winner.

At the table directly in front of them, Marshawn Lynch – wearing a pair of three-quarter-length sweats and a T-shirt – sips on some Hennessy.

They are all staring at a striking dark bay colt foaled on May 6 of last year. Hip 39, as the horse is known, has just been walked up a chute and onto a stage, and the cacophony created by a roomful of people clearly has him agitated.

Just a few days ago, the son of 2016 Derby winner Nyquist roamed freely around the fields of nearby Gainesway Farm, a 1,500-acre pastoral equine playground whose history predates US independence.

Now, Hip 39 is one of 4,642 horses up for sale at the annual September Yearling Sale at Keeneland racetrack.

The sale is everything the Derby is not. All business, no pretense. These are true horse people, and whether blessed with generational wealth or fresh money, they are here to do work, not to be seen. People distractedly pluck hors d’oeuvres or cocktails from servers walking around with trays, more interested in the breeding information on their iPads than the catering.

There are no Instagrammable photo ops or fancy hats, just people in jeans, T-shirts, cowboy boots and shorts. Former Philadelphia Phillies slugger Jayson Werth, in a wrinkled T-shirt and camouflage shorts, is nearly unrecognizable, his famous cascade of hair tucked under a ballcap. And when DeVaux sits alongside Lynch to talk horses, a woman nervously approaches their table to ask for a picture – of the horse trainer, not the former Super Bowl-winning, five-time Pro Bowl running back.

But this is where the first Saturday in May gets its start. It takes money to nourish a Derby dream at the Keeneland sales, but here, the real currency is hope.

“Any one of them,” DeVaux says, “could be the one.”

Today, she hopes her next Derby winner might be Hip 39. Which is why Farish, the general manager of Lane’s End Farm and part of a four-group partnership that includes DeVaux’s Belladonna Racing, keeps raising his finger.

Matt Stone/Courier Journal/USA Today Network/Imagn Images

All Cherie DeVaux wanted to do was win the Kentucky Derby. Making history? She’s just glad that part is over

Each seemingly meaningless twitch signals a bid worth between $50,000 and $100,000, depending on the auctioneer’s ask. After less than two minutes of bidding, Farish has twitched his way to securing Hip 39 for $1.2 million. Later in the day, the partnership will nab two more colts for $375,000 and $800,000 respectively, and by the end of the two-week sale, will have purchased 20 horses for a cool $15.48 million.

And not a single one of them has ever so much as felt a saddle on his back.

Lexington is the sort of place where the arrival of your luggage at a baggage claim carousel is accompanied by the bugle strains of the call to the post, where Citation Boulevard hugs the north edges of the city and Man o’War Boulevard the south. Louisville, a 75-mile ride west, might be the country’s epicenter of racing, but Lexington is about the horses.

The university’s Big Blue Nation is outnumbered only by the big bluebloods. Generational wealth with an eye for thoroughbreds took root here long ago, drawn by the limestone-rich soil and lush bluegrass that is especially good for foals. Most of the people who own the farms got rich elsewhere first – the Farish family’s roots go back to the Texas oil rush – and then got richer breeding, selling and racing horses.

Theirs is the sort of money that comes without ostentation, where people don’t flaunt their wealth but it’s clear they have it.

“We’re getting ready to leave a little early,” a man says into his phone while heading to the valet parking area near the sale. “Can you call the pilot and let them know we’re ready to go?”

Minutes later, another man – wearing a fedora and martini-glass shirt while toting his wheezing bulldog on a pink leash – follows and heads to his high-end SUV.

“It’s crazy,” says Werth, no pauper himself. “A horse sells for $400,000 and you’re thinking, ‘Only $400,000? What’s wrong with it?’ Someone just spent $400,000 on a freaking horse.”

Kentuckians had been racing for decades before Keeneland opened its doors, cutting dirt ovals in the early 1800s after the city banned racing in the street. Keeneland hosted its first race in 1936, but the track’s trajectory changed during World War II, when railroad restrictions prevented local breeders from shipping their horses north to the sale in Saratoga, New York.

Dornoch, co-owned by former World Series winner Jayson Werth, wins Belmont Stakes

To accommodate local horse owners, Keeneland erected a tent for a makeshift auction. The first sale, in 1943, went so well – 312 horses sold for an average of $2,979 – that the next year, after Lexington-based Fasig-Tipton decided to shutter its own sales paddock, the local group bought, deconstructed and rebuilt its sales arena.

It’s the same one used today. At the first September yearling sale inside the pavilion, 92 horses were purchased for a grand total of $419,100.

During this year’s two-week sale, buyers purchased 2,856 horses for a world-record $536,737,900. Seventy yearlings sold for more than $1 million, another world record, and one, a colt from leading sire Into Mischief, went for $3.7 million.

Though Keeneland still has big races with attractive purses – its annual Blue Grass Stakes is a key qualifier for Derby contenders and this weekend, it will host the Breeders’ Cup for the fourth time – it has just 32 days of live racing in the spring and fall.

The real business is in the sales.

“Lots of people in Lexington, they love racing, but they walk by these doors, and they have no idea what goes on in here,” says Tony Lacy, Keeneland vice president of sales. “This is horse racing’s NBA or NFL Draft.”

At 11 a.m. on Monday, just two hours before the sale officially begins, DeVaux is out in front of Barn 29. She “slept in” today, which means she woke up at 5:30 in the morning.

Yearlings arrive at Keeneland based on where they are placed in what’s known as the books. Created by the Keeneland sales team, the books set the schedule for the two-week sale and sort the horses into a sort of pedigree ranking. The perceived best horses, and likely the most expensive, are for sale in Book 1 on Monday and Tuesday. Book 2 is Wednesday, all the way down to Book 12.

In an event where everything comes with a price tag, even the simple slotting of horses can prove perilous. Lacy has heard plenty of kvetching from breeders who believe their horses to be undervalued in the book, and thereby potentially undervalued in the sale.

“My hair was not this gray a week ago,” he says with a shake of his head.

Because it is now Monday, DeVaux is evaluating horses in Book 4. (Book 1 horses arrived on Friday). Her husband, bloodstock agent David Ingordo, has created what’s called a short list, spending months “here, there and everywhere,” as DeVaux puts it, on farms eyeing up many of the horses since they were foals.

From his searches, he whittles down the available horses to the ones the team is interested in purchasing. On Monday, the team is considering 12 of the 185 horses available.

Since winning the Derby and Belmont, DeVaux’s opportunities have grown monumentally. She has tried to stay true to herself, relying as always on her husband’s knowledge and her own instincts, and not get wide-eyed as opportunities that once eluded her now practically fall at her feet.

“Now that we’ve done it once, people want us to prove that we can do it again,” she says.

Michael Reaves/Getty Images

How faith and grit helped Cherie DeVaux earn her place in Kentucky Derby history

It helps that DeVaux is decisive. She is as self-assured about what she likes in a horse as she is about what she wants in the remodel of her New Orleans home.

“Contractors hate me,” she says with a laugh.

Horse folks not so much. DeVaux is greeted warmly by the various sellers and breeders as she views their horses and wastes no one’s time. Where some trainers might ask a groom to walk a horse multiple times, DeVaux is usually good with an up and back.

She eyes whether their feet flop or land nicely and looks for broad backsides that house the literal horsepower to race. She considers age, whether the horse was a late or early foal, when sizing up its maturity and body development, and values temperament as much as conformation. A year ago, she knocked a horse off the team’s short list, unhappy that it grew too agitated during the morning viewing.

She also looks for something that can’t be measured, a glimmer in the eye or a spark of personality. She ends each check by petting the horse and giving it a little talking-to.

“I like that one,” she says of one as he walks away. “He’s plucky.”

Every horse is vetted for soundness, the buyers given detailed reports about its health, but DeVaux trusts herself as much as anyone. Despite eyeing hundreds of horses, she can recall each one by memory, barely needing to refer to her notes. Grabbing a quick bite to eat before the sale, she pulls up photos of the yearlings she’s considered as if they’re baby pictures, cooing over their “big fat faces.”

There is, of course, no guarantee of anything. DeVaux’s ride to glory came via Golden Tempo, a homebred, which means he was born and raised by his owner and never sold at auction.

“Nobody would have bought him at the sale,” DeVaux says. “If you looked at him, no one would have been interested.”

In six starts, he has three wins, including two legs of the Triple Crown, and has earned $4.75 million.

On the other end of the return-on-investment spectrum is Green Monkey. Sold as a two-year-old in 2006 for a record $16 million, the horse raced three times, never finishing better than third.

“What’s that saying about a piece of art?” asks Curt Ramsey, Lane’s End director of equine operations, as he watches DeVaux evaluate his horses. “It’s worth what someone is willing to pay for it.”

Ryan Mahan sits in a courtyard outside the pavilion, enjoying a break after running his mouth for an hour straight. Next November will be his 50th working at Keeneland. He’s held a number of jobs during those five decades, but for the last 25 has provided the literal hum to the sales as the lead auctioneer.

Mahan’s love of horses comes naturally. His stepfather, Robert Copelan, who recently turned 100 years young, worked as a racetrack vet and Mahan tagged along while he made his rounds. In 1973, Mahan held the halter of a Derby entrant while Copelan treated a troublesome abscess with hot compresses. The horse healed. His name was Secretariat.

Mahan thought he wanted to follow in Copelan’s footsteps, but when he came to his first sale, he grew wide-eyed at what he calls the “belly-to-belly commerce” side of horse racing. He went to auctioneer school.

“It’s kind of like karaoke,” he says. “You know you’re going to feel stupid when it’s your turn, but if there are 200 people in class, they all feel stupid, too,” and started his career selling goats and chickens at small farm auctions before graduating to thoroughbreds. In 2001, when lead auctioneer Tom Caldwell passed away, Mahan took over at Keeneland.

It is a unique job, requiring both unflappable steadiness and the flair of a showman. Mahan knows many of the breeders and buyers personally and isn’t afraid to needle them to keep the bidding going. “Don’t stop now,” he says mid-auction of a horse that has reached $950,000.

“I don’t care if it’s $2,000 or $2 million, you have a minute to decide because the guy next to you is going to bid, and then it’s over,” Mahan says. “It’s very high risk so the least I can do is make it fun.”

Mahan’s longevity is true to Keeneland’s commitment to tradition. While it’s adjusted to suit the times – bids can be made both by phone and online – it prefers to keep things both highbrow and unchanged. In 2026, the man known as Beast Mode sipped his Hennessy from a similar perch that housed Queen Elizabeth in 1984.

Those who work the sales are as much a part of the fabric as the place itself. A few years ago, someone asked Mahan how he might get into the business. “Well,” Mahan told him, “the newest guy we hired, we call him Pup. He’s 60.”

The consistency is as practical as it is parochial. To watch a horse sale is to witness a well-choreographed dance, or an orchestra in perfect concert. Mahan and the public address announcer sit at a raised rostrum directly behind the sale ring and in front of the pavilion full of people. The horses exit one of the 55 barns on the back of the property and are led to a paddock area to parade in front of interested buyers.

When it’s their turn, the yearlings are led into the sales ring by a groom and handed over to a showman, a veritable horse whisperer who can calm stressed-out yearlings as they whinny, pace and sometimes downright refuse to walk into the ring (in that case, they’re often backed in, so they don’t know what’s coming).

The spotters stand at the end of each of the aisles of the theatre-like seating area, with their backs to the horses and their eyes scanning the crowd for the slightest tick of movement to signal a bid.

Everyone has their tell. Farish flicks his finger. Others tip a cap or slide a pin. Back in his day, legendary trainer D. Wayne Lukas would use a pen in his pocket to signal his interest – once he removed it, he was out of the bidding – while famed trainer Bob Baffert simply waves. When a spotter eyes a bid, he gives a loud call to Mahan who drumbeats the auction forward.

Another spotter sits behind Mahan in a raised plexiglass booth, looking out at the paddock area that the horses have just exited. Buyers are equal parts superstitious and surreptitious. Some sit in the same spot to make their bids; others only work with certain spotters – Mahan once pulled spotter Bo Black away from his lunch mid-bite because a purchaser would only bid if Black was in front of him.

And more than a few prefer to keep their action private, never entering the ring at all lest anyone else gloms onto their interest. They make their bids from the paddocks to the man in the box.

All the while, someone mans a phone for internet bids, all of it funneled to Mahan, who keeps the auction going.

It feels and looks like organized chaos, a rinse-and-repeat of white noise that churns on for hours with no break. No sooner does Hip 1 walk out after being sold (for $700,000) than the public address announcer runs through the bona fides of Hip 2 as the horse enters the ring.

Once a horse is sold, another green-blazered courier heads to the purchaser, handing over a paper receipt that looks like it’s straight out of a 1980s Radio Shack, complete with a white, yellow and pink copy.

After the gavel drops on Hip 39, a courier arrives almost immediately at Farish, Finley and DeVaux’s table. Finley signs the receipt, takes his yellow copy and folds it, before casually shoving it in his back pocket, as if he just bought a stereo with an eight-track player, and not a million-dollar horse.

“It’s the game,” he says. “Out of all of these horses, maybe we know the names of five or six of them. Maybe.”

Bob Baffert grabs a water out of a nearby cooler to keep the searing heat and humidity at bay.

No North American trainer has acquired more expensive horseflesh in the 21st century than Baffert, including a $10 million 2-year-old that came into his barn earlier this year.

But Baffert’s introduction to the Keeneland Sales was far different. He motions toward a cement wall outside a nearby barn.

“That’s where we watched the horses the first time I came here,” says the two-time Triple Crown winner.

It was 1988 and Baffert, who was just starting to pivot away from training quarter horses to thoroughbreds, only got to Lexington after worming his way onto the private plane of wealthy track owner, R.D. Hubbard. From his perch on the wall, Baffert keyed in on Hip 1752, a big gray, but with no real buying partners, convinced a fellow quarter horse trainer to go in with him. The man agreed but said he would go no higher than $20,000.

When the bidding escalated beyond his threshold, Baffert’s money man backed out, but the trainer, too far gone on the horse, kept raising his hand. When the gavel dropped, he had agreed to pay $30,000.

“I was thinking, please someone offer $30,001,” Baffert says. “But no one did.”

After signing for the sale, Baffert was almost immediately summoned to the sales office. He had no credit on file and had to prove he could pay for the horse. He pulled a check out of his wallet, and only after the sales team called his bank to verify he was good for the money did Baffert get the horse.

Hip 1752 became Thirty Slews. He won the Breeders’ Cup Sprint, Baffert’s first Grade 1 race win (he now has 266), and earned $825,000 across his career.

“When I first came here, I thought, ‘This is ridiculous.’ You could buy a house for the prices and make payments for 30 years,” Baffert says. “But when you win the Kentucky Derby, you say, ‘Oh, I get it.’ You can’t put a price on that feeling, or the price on the feeling you get when any horse wins a race. That’s what makes this all worth it.”

It is the entirety of it, really. Werth, the ex-Phillies and Nationals slugger, came to Keeneland for the first time in 2022. With his baseball career over, he was looking for a similar adrenaline rush, and a friend turned him on to horse racing.

He knew less than nothing about horses but went to the sale anyway. During the third session, he aimlessly crossed the paddock area and turned left, running into trainer Danny Gargan. The two chatted, and Werth explained that he was interested in buying a filly. Gargan talked him into keying in on a colt he liked, guessing rightly that Werth’s celebrity status would add some cachet to the purchase.

Werth put up 10% of the $325,000 to purchase Hip 391, who would become Dornoch and led Werth to the 2024 Belmont Stakes winner’s circle.

“If I turned right, who knows?” says Werth as he watches the horses for sale. “I might be playing golf in Ireland. This whole thing is absurd. It’s like buying a Little Leaguer and hoping he makes the World Series, but it is such a rush. That’s why we’re here.”

Having a little self-control amid the madness

After securing the first three horses they bid on, the Faris-Finley-DeVaux group’s luck stalled.

They finished as underbidders (one notch below the purchasers) a few times and opted to back out on others. They set their max price on one yearling at $1.4 million; it went for $2.3, and they quit at $1.4 million on another that went for $100,000 more.

“You have to have a little self-control,” DeVaux says. “It’s hard. I mean, I’m the queen of one more bid, but you can’t think that way. You really can’t.”

As day one of the sale winds down, Ingordo decides to switch things up. He heads out to the paddock area, leaning up against a rail directly in front of the spotter perched at the window. He eyes up Hip 181, a dark brown colt, and does the bidding himself. Ingordo bids aggressively, but a Japanese gentleman next to him, his phone pressed to his ear the entire time, one-ups him.

The horse sells for $2.1 million and, as the giddy winner grins and yells into his phone, Ingordo shrugs.

“Thought we had him,” he says.

The team shuffles to the exits. It’s 6:30 p.m., five-and-a-half hours after the sale started and nearly 12 hours since DeVaux got to the track. Back home, someone is preparing food for the team, but they will not eat leisurely.

There are 15 more days of sales, with 4,458 more horses to consider.

And one of them just might be the one.

比尔·法里什坐在高脚桌旁的凳子上，背靠着窗户，身处拥挤房间的最深处。他戴着白色棒球帽，蓝色格子衬衫外罩着一件背心，下身穿着卡其裤。他左手托着下巴，时不时地随意地抬起食指。

坐在他右边的是谢丽·德沃克斯，她是2026年肯塔基德比和贝尔蒙特锦标赛冠军“金节奏”（Golden Tempo）的驯马师。坐在他左边的是特里·芬利，他是西点纯种马公司总裁，也是2017年德比冠军“永远梦想”（Always Dreaming）的共同所有者之一。

在他们正对面的桌子上，马肖恩·林奇穿着七分运动裤和T恤，正在啜饮轩尼诗。

所有人都盯着一匹引人注目的深棕色小公马，它出生于去年5月6日。这匹马，编号39，刚刚被牵着走过一个通道，来到舞台上，房间里熙熙攘攘的人群显然让它有些躁动不安。

就在几天前，2016 年德比冠军尼奎斯特的儿子在附近的盖恩斯韦农场的田野里自由漫步。盖恩斯韦农场是一个占地 1500 英亩的田园马场，其历史可以追溯到美国独立之前。

现在，39号马是基兰赛马场一年一度的九月周岁马拍卖会上待售的4642匹马之一。

这场拍卖会与德比大赛截然不同。一切都纯粹是生意，没有丝毫虚伪。这些人都是真正的爱马人士，无论他们拥有世代传承的财富还是刚刚积累的财富，他们来这里都是为了工作，而不是为了炫耀。人们心不在焉地从端着托盘走动的服务员手中接过开胃小菜或鸡尾酒，比起餐饮本身，他们更关注iPad上的育种信息。

这里没有适合拍照打卡的特色场景，也没有花哨的帽子，只有穿着牛仔裤、T恤、牛仔靴和短裤的人们。前费城费城人队强棒杰森·沃斯穿着皱巴巴的T恤和迷彩短裤，几乎让人认不出来，他标志性的瀑布式发型藏在棒球帽下。当德沃克斯和林奇坐在一起谈论马匹时，一位女士紧张地走近他们的桌子，请求合影——但她想拍的是驯马师，而不是那位曾五次赢得超级碗冠军、五次入选职业碗的跑卫。

但这就是五月第一个星期六的开始。在基兰赛马场拍卖会上，追逐德比梦想需要金钱，但在这里，真正的货币是希望。

德沃克斯说：“他们中的任何一个都有可能是那个人。”

今天，她希望她的下一匹德比冠军马是 39 号。正因如此，莱恩斯恩德农场总经理法里什（Farish）——同时也是包括德沃克斯的贝拉多娜赛马公司在内的四方合伙企业成员之一——才不断地举起手指。

Matt Stone/Courier Journal/USA Today Network/Imagn Images

谢丽·德沃克斯（Cherie DeVaux）唯一的目标就是赢得肯塔基德比大赛。创造历史？她只庆幸这部分已经结束了。

每一次看似无关紧要的抽搐，都代表着一次出价，金额在5万到10万美元之间，具体取决于拍卖师的要价。不到两分钟，法里什就凭借着这几次抽搐，以120万美元的价格拍下了39号拍品。当天晚些时候，他的合伙人又分别以37.5万美元和80万美元的价格购得了两匹小马驹。在为期两周的拍卖会结束时，他们将总共购入20匹马，总价高达1548万美元。

他们之中没有一个人曾经感受过背上骑着马鞍的滋味。

在莱克星顿，当你的行李出现在行李传送带旁时，耳边会响起号角声，仿佛在召唤士兵上岗。西塔申大道 (Citation Boulevard) 蜿蜒于城市北缘，而曼奥沃大道 (Man o'War Boulevard) 则环绕着南岸。路易斯维尔位于莱克星顿以西 75 英里处，或许是美国的赛马中心，但莱克星顿才是真正的赛马之都。

这所大学的“蓝色王国”人数最多，恐怕只有那些名门望族才能与之匹敌。世代相传的财富和对纯种马的敏锐眼光早已在此扎根，吸引他们的是富含石灰岩的土壤和肥沃的蓝草，这种草地尤其适合幼驹生长。大多数农场主都是先在别处发家致富——法里什家族的根源可以追溯到德克萨斯州的石油热潮——然后通过繁育、出售和赛马而更加富有。

他们的财富来之不易，他们不会炫耀财富，但很明显他们拥有财富。

“我们准备提前一点出发，”一名男子一边走向促销区附近的代客泊车区，一边对着手机说，“你能给飞行员打个电话，告诉他们我们准备出发了吗？”

几分钟后，另一名男子——头戴软呢帽，身穿马提尼酒杯图案的衬衫，用粉红色的狗绳牵着他喘着粗气的斗牛犬——跟了上来，走向他的高档SUV。

“太疯狂了，”沃斯说道，他本人也并非穷光蛋。“一匹马卖了40万美元，你会想，‘才40万美元？这马有什么问题吗？’有人竟然花了40万美元买了一匹该死的马。”

在基兰赛马场开放之前，肯塔基州人已经赛马数十年了。19世纪初，由于市政府禁止街头赛马，他们便开始修建泥土椭圆形赛道。基兰赛马场于1936年举办了首场比赛，但二战期间，由于铁路运输限制，当地育马者无法将马匹运往纽约州萨拉托加的拍卖会，赛马场的发展轨迹也随之改变。

由前世界大赛冠军杰森·沃斯共同拥有的赛马多诺赫赢得贝尔蒙特锦标赛

为了方便当地马主，基兰赛马场搭建了一个帐篷，用于举办临时拍卖会。1943年的首次拍卖会非常成功——312匹马售出，平均售价为2979美元——以至于第二年，在位于列克星敦的法西格-蒂普顿公司决定关闭其销售场地后，当地马主团体买下了法西格-蒂普顿公司的销售场地，并将其拆除重建。

和今天使用的是一样的。在展馆内举行的首届九月份周岁马拍卖会上，共有92匹马售出，总成交额为419100美元。

在今年为期两周的拍卖会上，买家以创世界纪录的 536,737,900 美元购入了 2,856 匹马。其中 70 匹周岁马的售价超过 100 万美元，再次创下世界纪录；而一匹出自顶级种马 Into Mischief 的小马驹更是以 370 万美元的价格成交。

尽管基兰赛马场仍然举办奖金丰厚的大赛——其一年一度的蓝草锦标赛是德比大赛参赛者的重要资格赛，而且本周末还将第四次举办育马者杯——但它在春季和秋季只有 32 天的现场比赛。

真正的生意在于销售。

“莱克星顿很多人都喜欢赛马，但他们路过这里时，根本不知道里面发生了什么，”基兰赛马场销售副总裁托尼·莱西说。“这就像赛马界的NBA或NFL选秀一样。”

星期一上午 11 点，距离拍卖会正式开始还有两个小时，德沃克斯就出现在 29 号谷仓前。她今天“睡了个懒觉”，也就是说她早上 5 点 30 分才起床。

一岁马抵达基兰赛马场时，会根据它们在所谓的“名册”中的位置进行排列。这些名册由基兰销售团队制定，用于安排为期两周的拍卖会日程，并根据血统对马匹进行排名。人们普遍认为最好的马匹，也可能是最贵的马匹，会在周一和周二的第一册进行拍卖。第二册从周三开始，一直到第十二册。

在一切都标价的拍卖会上，就连给马匹估价这样简单的操作都可能充满风险。莱西听到过很多育马者的抱怨，他们认为自己的马匹在估价手册上被低估了，因此在拍卖会上也可能被低估。

“一周前我的头发还没这么灰白，”他摇着头说。

现在是星期一，德沃克斯正在评估第四册中的马匹（第一册中的马匹是周五到的）。她的丈夫，纯种马经纪人戴维·英戈尔多，已经列出了一份候选名单。正如德沃克斯所说，他花了几个月的时间“到处奔波”，走访各个农场，从马匹还是幼驹的时候就开始关注它们。

通过他的筛选，他最终选定了185匹待售马匹中的12匹。周一，球队正在考虑购买这12匹马。

自从赢得德比大赛和贝尔蒙特锦标赛以来，德沃的机会呈爆炸式增长。她一直努力保持真我，一如既往地依靠丈夫的经验和自己的直觉，并没有因为曾经与她擦肩而过的机会如今几乎唾手可得而沾沾自喜。

“既然我们已经做到过一次，人们就希望我们能再次证明我们能做到，”她说。

迈克尔·里夫斯/盖蒂图片社

信仰和毅力如何帮助谢丽·德沃在肯塔基德比历史上留下浓墨重彩的一笔

德沃克斯的果断性格对她很有帮助。她对自己喜欢的马匹类型和对新奥尔良住宅翻修的设想一样自信。

“承包商都恨我，”她笑着说。

养马的人可就未必如此了。德沃克斯在看马时，受到各路卖家和育马者的热情接待，而且从不浪费大家的时间。有些驯马师可能会让马夫反复遛马，但德沃克斯通常只需要走几步就够了。

她会观察马蹄落地是否平稳有力，并寻找宽阔的后躯，看它是否拥有足以驰骋赛场的强劲动力。在评估马匹的成熟度和体型发育时，她会考虑马的年龄、是早产还是晚产，并且像重视体型一样重视马的性情。一年前，她曾将一匹马从候选名单中剔除，因为这匹马在上午的考察中表现得过于躁动不安。

她还会寻找一些无法量化的东西，比如眼神中的闪光或个性的闪光。每次检查结束后，她都会抚摸马匹，和它们说说话。

“我喜欢那个，”她看着他走开，说道，“他很勇敢。”

每匹马都经过严格的健康检查，买家会收到详细的健康报告，但德沃克斯对自己的判断和任何人一样自信。尽管她看过数百匹马，却能凭记忆记住每一匹，几乎不需要参考笔记。拍卖会开始前，她匆匆吃过东西，翻看自己考虑过的那些一岁马的照片，就像在看婴儿照一样，对着它们“胖乎乎的小脸”发出赞叹声。

当然，任何事情都无法保证。德沃克斯的辉煌之路源于他的爱驹“黄金节奏”（Golden Tempo），这是一匹自家繁育的赛马，也就是说，它由主人亲手出生和养大，从未被拍卖。

德沃克斯说：“拍卖会上根本没人会买他。你看他那副样子，肯定没人会感兴趣。”

六次出赛，他赢得了三场比赛，其中包括三冠王中的两场比赛，并获得了 475 万美元的奖金。

投资回报率的另一端是“绿猴”。这匹马在2006年以创纪录的1600万美元的价格售出，当时它只有两岁。它参加了三场比赛，但最好成绩也只是第三名。

“关于艺术品，有句谚语怎么说来着？”莱恩斯恩德马场的马匹运营总监科特·拉姆齐一边看着德沃评估他的马匹，一边问道，“它的价值取决于有人愿意为它付出多少。”

瑞恩·马汉坐在展馆外的庭院里，结束了一小时的滔滔不绝，享受着难得的休息。明年十一月将是他为基兰赛马场工作的第五十年。在这五十年间，他做过许多不同的工作，但近二十五年来，他一直是首席拍卖师，为拍卖会注入了活力。

马汉对马的热爱是与生俱来的。他的继父罗伯特·科普兰最近刚满百岁，生前是赛马场的兽医，马汉经常跟着他巡诊。1973年，马汉牵着一匹参加德比大赛的马的缰绳，科普兰用热敷治疗它身上顽固的脓肿。那匹马痊愈了。它的名字叫“秘书处”（Secretariat）。

马汉原本想追随科佩兰的脚步，但当他第一次参加拍卖会时，他被赛马界所谓的“直接交易”的一面深深震撼。于是，他去上了拍卖师学校。

“这有点像卡拉OK，”他说。“你知道轮到你唱歌时会觉得自己很傻，但如果班上有200个人，他们也都会觉得自己很傻。”他的职业生涯始于在小型农场拍卖会上出售山羊和鸡，之后才开始拍卖纯种马。2001年，首席拍卖师汤姆·考德威尔去世后，马汉接任了基兰赛马场的拍卖师一职。

这是一份独特的工作，既需要沉着冷静，又需要表演者的天赋。马汉与许多育马者和买家都私交甚好，他毫不犹豫地怂恿他们，以维持竞价。“别停！”在一匹马的拍卖过程中，他突然说道，当时这匹马的成交价已经达到了95万美元。

“我不在乎是2000美元还是200万美元，你只有一分钟时间做决定，因为你旁边的人马上就要出价了，然后就结束了，”马汉说。“风险非常高，所以我至少能做的就是让它变得有趣。”

马汉的长久执掌体现了基兰赛马场对传统的坚持。尽管赛马场也顺应时代潮流做出调整——竞拍可以通过电话和网络进行——但它更倾向于保持高雅格调和一成不变的传统。2026年，这位绰号“野兽模式”的马汉在与1984年伊丽莎白女王坐过的相似的高台上，品尝着他的轩尼诗。

销售人员和这家店本身一样，都是店里不可或缺的一部分。几年前，有人问马汉如何才能入行。“嗯，”马汉告诉他，“我们新招的那个人，我们都叫他‘小狗’，他都60岁了。”

这种一丝不苟的安排既务实又带有浓厚的地域特色。观看一场马匹拍卖会，就像欣赏一场精心编排的舞蹈，或是一场完美的交响乐演奏。马汉和现场播音员坐在拍卖场正后方、坐满人群的看台上。马匹从庄园后方的55个马厩之一出来，被牵到围场，在感兴趣的买家面前展示。

轮到它们时，一岁马会被马夫牵进拍卖场，交给表演者，这位表演者堪称马语者，能够安抚紧张的一岁马，因为它们会嘶鸣、踱步，有时甚至干脆拒绝走进拍卖场（在这种情况下，它们通常会被逼进拍卖场，这样它们就不知道接下来会发生什么）。

观察员站在剧院式座位区每条过道的尽头，背对着马匹，目光扫视着人群，寻找任何细微的动静来发出竞价信号。

每个人都有自己的暗号。法里什会弹一下手指。其他人则会摘帽致意或别针。想当年，传奇练马师D·韦恩·卢卡斯会用口袋里的笔来表示有意竞拍——一旦他把笔拿出来，就意味着他退出了竞拍——而著名练马师鲍勃·巴弗特则只是挥挥手。当观察员注意到某个出价时，他会大声通知马汉，马汉则会用鼓点推进拍卖进程。

另一位观察员坐在马汉身后一个架高的有机玻璃隔间里，眺望着马匹刚刚离开的围场区域。买家们既迷信又谨慎。有些人会一直坐在同一个地方出价；有些人则只和特定的观察员合作——马汉曾经把观察员博·布莱克从午餐中拉了出来，因为一位买家只愿意在布莱克面前出价。

不少人更喜欢低调行事，根本不踏入赛场，以免被他人盯上。他们只是在围场里向拍卖师发出报价。

与此同时，有人负责接听网络竞价电话，所有竞价都汇给马汉，由他来维持拍卖的进行。

感觉就像一场有组织的混乱，如同持续数小时的嘈杂噪音，永不停歇。1号马刚以70万美元的价格售出，广播员便开始介绍2号马的资质，这匹马随即进入了赛场。

马匹售出后，另一名身穿绿色西装的信使会前往买家处，递上一张纸质收据，这张收据看起来像是直接从 20 世纪 80 年代的 Radio Shack 商店里拿出来的，还附有白色、黄色和粉色的副本。

拍卖会第39场结束后，一名快递员几乎立刻来到法里什、芬利和德沃克斯的桌前。芬利签了收据，接过他的黄色副本，折好后，漫不经心地把它塞进后裤兜里，就好像他买的是一台带八轨播放器的立体声音响，而不是一匹价值百万美元的骏马。

“这就是比赛，”他说。“这么多马，我们可能只知道五六匹的名字。也许吧。”

为了抵御酷热和潮湿，鲍勃·巴弗特从附近的冷藏箱里拿出一瓶水。

进入 21 世纪以来，没有哪位北美练马师比巴菲特拥有更昂贵的马匹，其中包括今年早些时候来到他马厩的一匹价值 1000 万美元的 2 岁马。

但巴弗特初次接触基兰拍卖会的经历却截然不同。他指着附近谷仓外的一堵水泥墙。

“我第一次来这里的时候，就是在那里看马的，”这位两届三冠王得主说道。

那是1988年，巴弗特刚刚开始从训练夸特马转向训练纯种马，他费尽周折才搭上了富有的赛马场老板R·D·哈伯德的私人飞机，得以抵达列克星敦。在飞机上，巴弗特一眼就看中了编号为1752的那匹灰色大马，但由于没有合适的买家，他只好说服一位同样是夸特马训练师的同行与他合伙。对方同意了，但表示出价不会超过2万美元。

当出价超过巴菲特的承受范围时，他的财务人员退出了竞价，但这位驯马师对这匹马信心满满，仍然不断举手。最终，他同意支付3万美元。

“我当时想，求求谁出价30001美元吧，”巴弗特说。“但没人出价。”

签完合同后，巴弗特几乎立刻就被叫到销售办公室。他没有信用记录，必须证明自己有能力支付这匹马的款项。他从钱包里掏出一张支票，销售团队打电话给他的银行确认他确实有能力支付后，巴弗特才拿到马。

1752号马驹后来成为了三十斯鲁斯。它赢得了育马者杯短途赛，这是巴弗特赢得的第一场一级赛冠军（他现在已经赢得了266场），并且在其职业生涯中赢得了825000美元的奖金。

“我刚来这里的时候，心想，‘这太荒谬了。’这里的房价都能买套房子了，而且可以分30年还款，”巴弗特说。“但当你赢得肯塔基德比的时候，你就会明白，‘哦，我懂了。’那种感觉是无法用金钱衡量的，就像任何一匹马赢得比赛时那种感觉一样。正是这种感觉，让这一切都变得值得。”

这的确就是全部。前费城人和国民队强棒沃斯于2022年首次来到基兰赛马场。棒球生涯结束后，他渴望寻找类似的刺激，一位朋友向他介绍了赛马。

他对马一窍不通，但还是去了拍卖会。第三场拍卖时，他漫无目的地穿过围场，左转时碰巧遇到了驯马师丹尼·加根。两人聊了起来，沃斯解释说他想买一匹小母马。加根劝他重点关注一匹自己喜欢的小公马，加根猜对了，沃斯的名人身份会给这笔交易增添一些价值。

Werth 出资 325,000 美元中的 10% 购买了 Hip 391，这匹马后来成为了 Dornoch，并带领 Werth 进入了 2024 年贝尔蒙特锦标赛的冠军圈。

“如果我向右转，谁知道会发生什么呢？”沃斯一边看着待售的马匹一边说，“说不定我现在就在爱尔兰打高尔夫呢。这一切简直太荒谬了。就像买了个少棒球员，然后指望他能打进世界大赛一样，但这种感觉真是太刺激了。这就是我们来这里的原因。”

在疯狂之中保持一点自制力

在成功竞标前三匹马之后，法里斯-芬利-德沃克斯集团的运气就停滞了。

他们几次竞标失败（出价略低于买家），还有几次选择放弃。他们曾为一匹周岁马设定最高价140万美元，最终成交价为230万美元；而另一匹马，他们出价140万美元后放弃竞标，最终成交价比最高价高出10万美元。

“你得有点自制力，”德沃克斯说。“这很难。我的意思是，我可是那种总想着再竞标一次的女王，但你不能这么想。真的不能。”

拍卖会第一天临近尾声时，英戈多决定换个策略。他走到围场区，倚靠在栏杆上，正对着窗边观察员。他目光锁定在181号拍品——一匹深棕色的小马驹身上，决定亲自出价。英戈多出价很高，但旁边一位日本绅士——全程手机贴在耳边——最终抢先一步，赢得了竞拍。

这匹马以 210 万美元的价格售出，兴奋的赢家咧嘴笑着对着电话大喊大叫，而英戈尔多耸了耸肩。

他说：“我们以为我们抓住他了。”

车队成员陆续走向出口。现在是下午6点30分，距离拍卖开始已经过去了五个半小时，距离德沃克斯抵达赛道也已经过去了将近12个小时。在家里，有人正在为车队准备食物，但他们不会悠闲地享用。

还有 15 天的销售期，还有 4458 匹马可供选择。

他们之中或许就有一个人能胜任。