My Future Ex-Husband, Mike E. Smith

My future ex-husband, jockey Mike Smith, rides Songbird, the top three-year filly, and probably the top three-year old in the country. Wait, you didn’t know I had a future ex-husband? Don’t feel bad, he doesn’t know either.

Mr. Smith, Mikey to some of his fans (but not me), is the innocent punchline to a long running joke with my friends. He’s my celebrity crush. The likelihood of Mike even remembering my name, much less becoming my husband (and later ex) and next to nill. None of that matters.

In the past most of my celebrity crushes have been really stupid.  In my defense, celebrity crushes are by definition, dumb.

But mine are particularly dumb since my crushes are usually barely celebrities. Calling a guitar player for an indie band a celebrities pushes the boundaries of the term. My list of past crushes is littered with non-recovering addict/guitarists, or even worse, bass players.  I do draw the line at drummers. I have some standards, after all. Just kidding. I don't.

My first crush was on Peter Tork from The Monkees. So there you are. Never met him, and don’t need to.  Anymore.

I first heard about Mike Smith back in 2002, when I was just getting back into racing and was edging out of the music business.  (Even way back then, MTV had nothing really to do with music.)

Mike is a killer rider and was inducted into the Racing Hall of Fame in 2002 while he was riding a remarkable filly named Azari. She was the Horse of the Year in 2002 and Champion Older Mare from 2002- 2004 and won 17 out of 24 starts.  She was, in short,  a superstar. 

If that didn’t get my attention, Mike Smith later became the regular rider for Zenyatta.

Anyone who knows me, knows Zenyatta.  Owned by Jerry Moss (he of A&M Records fame and money), Zenyatta won 19 of her 20 starts, including the Breeder’s Cup Classic against males. She was Horse of the Year in 2010 and Champion Older Mare three times.  I saw every race she ran except for one. I am such a fangirl that I wrote a book about her.

True story:  I was more nervous meeting her trainer John Sheriffs, than I was when I met Keith Richards.  And I worship Keith Richards.

I had met Mike a few times over the years when friends hired him to ride their racehorses. I'm using the word ‘met’ loosely. It means he shook my hand and said hello in the walking ring before his races. 

But if I was writing a book on Zenyatta, I needed to do a sit down interview. I didn’t think he’d want to waste his time on me, so I begged my friend Kristin, who is a trainer, to call Mike’s agent and set it up.

I'm wary of meeting my heroes, and usually I am right. Nick Cave was star in my eyes. A genius even. Until I worked with him for a summer on Lollapalooza. I realize he was a strung-out mess then, but he was also a first class douche. I still can’t even look at a photo of him without wanting to hit something.

It took a decade after meeting Bob Dylan for me to listen to his music again, and that’s because, well, he’s Bob Dylan.

So when it was time to sit down with Mr. Smith, I was a wreck. I should have relaxed.

Mike Smith is considered one of the nicest people in racing. In addition to tons of riding titles, he’s also received the Big Sport of Turfdom (twice) and Santa Anita’s prestigious George Woolf Award. The former is given to people who enhance the sport of Thoroughbred racing; the latter is voted on by jockeys and given annually to the most decent active rider in the business.

Plus he’s got a really nice smile.

We met in the jock's room at Del Mar. On his birthday. Mike is known as a wine aficionado so I brought him a good bottle of red. For which he thanked me profusely.

We talked for quite a while. He admitted he had a way with mares. Well d'uh!

He also blamed himself for Zenyatta’s only loss and it haunted him. Mind you, this was two years after the fact. 

We chatted until he excused himself because he had to ride a race. Which he won.

We exchanged phone numbers in case I needed to follow up with more questions. That afternoon he sent me a text thanking me for the wine.  I practically swooned.

Seriously, this was a first. I’m used to folks in the music business who aren’t exactly known for their manners. Or humility.

From then on, whenever Mike won a big race, I sent him a text congratulating him. There have been a lot of them. Including more than two dozen Breeder’s Cup races.  Every single time he texted me back to thank me.

Mike talks to about a million people a year, so I’m pretty sure that he has no idea who I am, but he’s just a really nice man.

Still, a gal can dream.

So Mike,  if this somehow reaches you, call me, maybe? Or maybe not.