It is impossible to imagine any racing story this year will top the wild scenes at Belmont Park last weekend as American Pharoah finally became America’s 12th Triple Crown winner with his Belmont Stakes victory. Indeed, it’s probably the racing story of the decade. Well, more accurately, it is the story of the last four decades.

It’s a tale with a plethora of angles and subplots that has been covered by some of the finest sports journalism, from a racing perspective, in years. Joe Drape’s account in the New York Times and Tim Layden’s Sports Illustrated piece were two which stood out among many, while the cover of Sports Illustrated was arguably the finest visual representation of the sport of kings in the modern era (although, in terms of their covers, we do remain partial to the annual swimsuit edition…)

There are the folks from all walks of life, rich and poor, who flocked to Long Island in the desperate hope that this Triple Crown attempt would somehow be different to the last 12 where the elusive title had been in play. The horseplayer in an off-track betting shop in Chicago, tossing aside $2 for a small ticket on American Pharoah as a keepsake. The enthusiast stuck in the middle of nowhere, feverishly trying to watch a live stream as reception cuts in and out. The mid-thirties professional who had seen everything in racing bar a Triple Crown. The 14-year-old in Tulsa now longing to train a Triple Crown winner of his own. The handler who had been denied the Triple Crown three times before, including once by the narrowest of margins, and the rider who had agonisingly fallen short 12 months earlier. And, of course, the Egyptian-born entrepreneur who had tried and come so close so many times in Triple Crown races, not even picking up one, only to strike gold with a horse good enough to win all three legs.

It is a quintessentially American narrative, deserving of treatment from Springsteen or Mellencamp.

But among the hysteria and the drama, one angle has been overlooked – that of the dedicated racing enthusiasts worldwide who turned their attention to New York as Saturday gave way to Sunday.

American Pharoah's win was about more than just trainer Bob Baffert, jockey Victor Espinoza and owner Ahmed Zayat. It was even greater than just the industry in the United States. It was a victory for thoroughbred racing across the globe.

As reported in the SCMP on Monday, the #TripleCrown hashtag was the top Twitter trend worldwide within minutes, knocking off the Champions League final. Terms like American Pharoah, Belmont, Espinoza and Baffert were also highly placed. More than 12 hours later, Belmont-related terms were still trending on Twitter in racing strongholds like Australia, the United Kingdom, South Africa and Hong Kong.

Horse racing, a sport which constantly struggles to get mainstream attention, was suddenly cool again. It was front page in all 50 states, even in places like South Dakota and Alaska, and was the leading story for most sports pages across the world. It is something no racing fan will ever forget – you will always remember where you were when American Pharoah finally won the Triple Crown.

It is but a blur to me now, but I’ll never forget the bare basics of those few minutes just before 7am, Sunday morning.

A spiteful glance at the mobile phone as the alarm, sounding akin to a squadron of paragliders but closer to the soothing sounds of Enya, woke me from a hangover-induced Sunday morning stupor – a late night watching Golden Horn win the Derby at Epsom to blame.

A bleary-eyed examination as the field made its way onto the track, Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” acting as a lullaby rather than a stimulant, half tempted to return to sleep if not for the allure of potentially seeing a Triple Crown winner.

A dodgy NBC stream cutting in and out, about 45 seconds behind real time, requiring the use of two browsers in tandem to ensure not too much was missed. And despite it all, still missing large chunks of the early part of the race.

And finally, the emotions pouring out as it became clear the drought was over, that – for the first time in my life – I would actually see a Triple Crown winner. In the words of Australian training legend Bart Cummings, it was a “hayfever attack” as tears sprang to the eyes, and needless to say, sleep became impossible.

It was not the ideal viewing experience – of course, it was a long way from being at Belmont – but this is my reality, my memory of a Triple Crown win. And there are millions across the world with similar stories.

Here was some of the international reaction on Twitter:

My familiarity with the quest for the Triple Crown is relatively recent compared to many, spurred by a thirst for knowledge about all things racing and a one-time girlfriend who worked in the game in America.

I was not alive for Spectacular Bid, Pleasant Colony, Alysheba or Sunday Silence. I hardly knew about racing in my backyard, let alone across the Pacific, when there were six failed attempts in eight years, between Silver Charm’s second in 1997 and Smarty Jones’ inexplicable loss in 2004. The first Belmont I remember seeing was the aborted coronation of Smarty Jones, and the arrival of Youtube and a bank of replays ensured hopes were high for Big Brown, I’ll Have Another – well, at least until injury intervened – and California Chrome.

It was tough enough seeing just four failed attempts in 11 years – it is impossible to fathom what it would be like to have been an American in racing for 37 years, hoping to see the pinnacle of the sport in the States, left despondent year upon year.

And yet, it was all those years of heartbreak, despair and disappointment that made it such a special moment, wherever one was watching.

In my short time in racing, just on a decade, I’ve been privileged to experience some great moments live. Makybe Diva making it three consecutive wins in the 2005 Melbourne Cup. The record-breaking rout of Frankel in the 2012 Queen Anne Stakes. Black Caviar’s heart-stopping victory in the Diamond Jubilee a few days later. Grand horses like So You Think, Able Friend, Shared Belief, Designs On Rome, Epiphaneia, Gentildonna, Cirrus Des Aigles.

And yet, I do not believe I will ever see a moment on par with American Pharoah’s Triple Crown – despite the fact I was more than 8,000 miles away.

Maybe we will be waiting another 37 years, until 2052, for another Triple Crown winner. By then, we might be looking at a six-furlong Kentucky Derby and a five-furlong Preakness Stakes, before a stamina-sapping mile test in the Belmont Stakes, such is the trend of American racing.

If there have been over a dozen near-misses in those 37 years, then maybe the same set of circumstances will arise to produce a similar moment. Alas, now that the floodgates have opened, we might see a repeat of the 1970s, where there were three Triple Crown winners in five years.

In time, the euphoria will fade and hysteria will be replaced by rationality. It is yet to do so. Even now, listening to announcer Larry Collmus rise from nervous anticipation to jubilant expectation as the crowd erupts – “The 37-year wait is over! American Pharoah is finally the one!” – it makes the hairs stand up on the back of the neck. It is something to savour.

For the racing fan, whether American or not, it will become the pivotal story to tell in the years to come – where were you when American Pharoah finally won the Triple Crown?

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