2024 Preakness

Jan 2

Written By m w

The 2024 Preakness Stakes: A Shattered Carnival of Hooves, Glory, and the Distant Thrum of Madness

Baltimore, Maryland—May 18th, 2024. The sun hung like a sickly, overripe melon in the sky, casting a haze of heat and humidity over the racecourse. There’s something about this place—the Preakness Stakes—a carnival of chaos where the air is thick with bourbon fumes, the sound of frantic betting, and the unsettling hum of distorted hopes. The horses weren’t just running—they were charging into oblivion.

Forget about the calm, composed horse-racing clichés that some would have you believe. The 2024 Preakness Stakes was not some serene gallop for glory—it was a goddamn battlefield. The stakes were higher than they’ve ever been, and the madness was palpable. This wasn’t just a race; it was a psychedelic confrontation, a blur of noise, color, and the relentless rush of speed. If you didn’t feel your pulse quicken as the horses tore out of those gates, then you’re already dead.

And the horses—their names will echo through the feverish halls of this sport for years to come: Mandaloun, Bourbon Bash, Jace’s Road, Hallowed Point, and the freakish, godlike creature who came from the depths of hell itself, the one who would claim victory: Whiskey Tango. But let’s take a step back—take a hit of something strong—and dive into the mess that was Preakness 2024.

The Calm Before the Storm: The Preakness Build-Up

It was a slow-burner, a slow march to the inevitable clash that would come once those gates finally flung open. As the 24-hour betting frenzy reached fever pitch, the scene in the stands looked like something out of an apocalypse—there were the elite, the high rollers in their fancy suits, yes, but then there were the degenerate gamblers, the misfits who had no place in this world except for the track, the ones who believed that if they just placed the right bet, the world would give them a little bit of the glory they were all chasing.

But of course, the only true champions in this madness were the horses. And for those of us in the crowd, waiting to witness the deranged spectacle, it was about something more than just the money. It was the thrill of the unknown, the raw pulse of humanity that comes with witnessing greatness—or watching it fall apart in front of your eyes.

There was Mandaloun, the beloved, the bruised warrior, finally back in the spotlight after a career marred by controversy and heartbreak. The horse who should’ve won the 2021 Kentucky Derby, but had been cruelly robbed of his moment by the whims of fate. This was his redemption tour, a chance to reclaim his honor, to salvage his soul.

And then, of course, there was the myth of Bourbon Bash. The golden child, the untamable beast whose name was whispered in dark corners as though it carried the power to command the very gods of the track. The colt had been nothing but lightning in a bottle—a flash of raw power and uncontrollable will, a horse who seemed to defy the limitations of his own body. If there was ever a horse that could do the impossible, it was Bourbon Bash.

Jace’s Road, the one with the odd name, had gained momentum over the past few weeks. A horse of many talents, but of one burning desire: to break free from the chains of mediocrity. His racing style had always been erratic, a burst of genius wrapped in chaos, but there was always that unsettling aura that maybe—just maybe—this would be his moment to shock the world.

And finally, we had Hallowed Point—the crowd favorite. The horse whose presence had become an almost religious experience for some of the die-hard fans. Every victory had felt like a prophecy fulfilled, and everyone in that track believed this horse was destined for something beyond ordinary competition. Hallowed Point wasn’t just a contender; he was a symbol of something much larger—a gateway to victory for all those who dared to believe in the impossible.

But the true viper in the grass, the one that had everyone buzzing with confusion and anticipation, was Whiskey Tango. With a name like that, you knew this horse wasn’t just here to run a race. No, Whiskey Tango was here to tear through the atmosphere with an unholy vengeance, to remind us all that the line between genius and madness is razor-thin. There was no telling if this horse was a horse or an apocalyptic omen, but we were all about to find out.

The Gates Fly Open: A Frenzied Blur of Hoofbeats and Fury

And then it happened. The gates flew open, and the earth itself seemed to shudder under the force of the horses’ thunderous hooves. The crowd roared, their voices swelling like a tidal wave that threatened to wash everything away.

Mandaloun came out strong—no surprises there. The horse was in top form, his movements sleek and powerful, and for a moment, it looked like this was going to be his time. He surged ahead, the weight of past losses heavy on his back, but the fire in his eyes unmistakable. For all the ghosts of his past, Mandaloun was running like a man on fire.

But lurking just behind him, as if it was simply waiting for the right moment, was Bourbon Bash. You could almost feel the track quake under the hooves of this wild thing—this beast of a horse—as he slalomed through the pack, relentlessly closing in on Mandaloun. There was no denying it—Bourbon Bash was here to make a statement.

But Jace’s Road—that wild-eyed, unpredictable horse—wasn’t far behind either. If there was one thing about Jace’s Road, it was that he didn’t know how to lose. But here was the kicker—Whiskey Tango. Out of nowhere, he surged ahead with a fire and fury that no one could have anticipated. The odds on this beast were absurd, but Whiskey Tango didn’t care. He didn’t care about pedigree, about expectations, about anything. All he cared about was the finish line.

The horses were neck and neck, the intensity growing with every step. The crowd was frothing at the mouth, the air thick with tension. The world seemed to slow down, and for just a moment, the madness of the race morphed into something spiritual. This was the essence of life—flesh and bone flying forward with reckless abandon, chasing something we all pretend to understand.

But as the race neared its climax, it was clear. Whiskey Tango, that relentless creature, had broken through. He was no longer just a horse. He was a god, a savage force of nature that none of us were prepared for.

The Final Stretch: A Blur of Fate and Destiny

The final stretch felt like time itself had been ripped apart, twisted, and hurled into some other dimension. There was no more cheering—there was no more sound except for the rapid, violent thud of hooves pounding into the earth. Whiskey Tango surged ahead, a streak of chaotic brilliance, a storm ripping through the track with a fury that seemed to bend the very air around him. The crowd was completely silent, unable to process what was happening, the victory slipping from their grasp.

But it wasn’t just Whiskey Tango’s raw power that made him untouchable—it was his unpredictability, the fact that he had come from nowhere, like a rogue wave, and destroyed the expectations of everyone. Mandaloun, still charging ahead with all his might, could not keep up. Bourbon Bash, the wild beast, was falling behind. And Jace’s Road, that promising contender, was fading out of sight.

When Whiskey Tango crossed the finish line, it wasn’t just a victory—it was an exclamation point on a madman’s dream. The crowd went from stunned silence to absolute chaos. People screamed, they cried, they prayed, they freaked the hell out.

Whiskey Tango had taken the 2024 Preakness Stakes with such force and fury that it felt like the world had shifted. It was a reminder that in this sport—this madness—the only certainty is that nothing is certain.

The Aftermath: When the Trip Fades

As the dust settled and the cheers began to subside, we were left with the haunting reality of the race. Whiskey Tango was the winner, and no one could quite understand what had just happened. But that’s what the Preakness is all about, isn’t it? It’s about the chaos, the chaos we can’t control, the madness we chase every year, knowing damn well it will never be the same again.

The 2024 Preakness wasn’t just a race. It was a journey into the heart of chaos, a reminder that the only way to survive in this game is to embrace the madness.

m w