I don't have any issues with dress codes for other major events. And I default to polos and slacks for those because, well... It's what you see golf pros wearing. And I don't want them to go back to suits or tuxedos or anything like that. Those are uncomfortable for the players and it's outdated. So what would you recommend? And I don't mean that in a challenging dickish way. I'm seriously asking just for conversation's sake.
Another thing I've been thinking about... How many of the people here who have strong opinions about The Derby's dress code have actually been to The Derby? How many of you went during The Executive West days? I'll be the first to admit that one of the reasons I don't want any kind of actual dress code at The Derby is because I know what it was and I'd like to keep as much of that as we reasonably can. Granted, it got "a little" hairy there the last couple of years. But, man... For several years it was the closest thing I've ever experienced to real magic and was a seriously good time for the vast majority of the people who attended.
I haven’t been to the Derby since Covid. Before that I had been to every one except the first one, which I missed simply because I hadn’t heard about it, and missed one later because my brother was having his second open heart surgery at Mayo Clinic. I think that counts as an excused absence. In all cases, I saw at least five days each event.
The big difference for me was that the EW, in order to make space for all the pool tables, cleared out its formal restaurant and put in extra tables specifically for the matches that were not part of the tournament. This had two effects. First, the cooks from the restaurant took over the cooking in the coffee shop, and they made real food for the lunch buffet. Don’t let anyone tell you the food at the EW was subpar. I would have a tasty breakfast each day and then approach lunch with high expectations, which were always more than met. And I take my food seriously. I remember reading the comment back in those days from some attendee that “There’s no place to eat.” That was simply crazy. I think whoever wrote that meant there was no McDonald’s or Wendy’s in the neighborhood. By the way, the prices were very reasonable.
Because the entire food operation had been put into one coffee shop, people joined other people at tables and got to know one another. I remember sitting at a table with six people I hadn’t met before. One of them was Jimmy Fusco from Philadelphia, who had recently moved to Florida. He had us holding our ribs with laughter as he described the hazards of driving in a place where there were so many elderly drivers. On another occasion we pool players were joined by some over the road truck drivers. We played the game of trying to identify by their special license plates which motorists were the most inconsiderate. I nominated drivers with the Indiana plate “Kids First!” And I was delighted when the truck drivers said that, while my pick might not be the absolute best, meaning the worst, it was certainly a contender. Another time I came in and the last place to sit at breakfast was at the counter. I slipped into the one empty chair next to a young man in jeans and a flannel shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and I thought to myself, “Is this guy like the strong man in a circus or something?” I started reading the “Louisville Courier Journal,” and he asked me if he could see the sports section. I said sure. We did some small talk. I couldn’t place him as in the tournament. Later I was walking down the corridor with some friends and passed him going the other way. He greeted me with my name and I answered, “Hi, Johnny.” My friends were stunned. One looked at the other and exclaimed, “Professor knows Johnny Damon!” Then they let me in on who that was.
I intentionally asked the cashier in the coffee shop one morning what it was like having the place full of pool players. She laughed and said, “Oh, it’s all right, but it is like somebody sprayed the whole place with a can of testosterone.”
The second effect was in the restaurant with all the extra tables for non-tournament matches. I saw Johnny Ervolino, and couldn’t believe it. Forty-five years or so since. I heard him say, “I’ve gotten more guys to play me here in three days than will play me in a year in Vegas.” I saw young players matching up and behaving completely acceptably, no problems. Guys like Keith Bennett and Sparky Farrell. No woofing. No problems. I was amused by the way Keith Bennett would not violate the No Smoking order (in Kentucky, no less!) but duck out about every thirty minutes for a break. The hotel had left all the accoutrements of the restaurant in place, the chairs, the side tables, the pictures on the walls. The players seemed to be accommodating themselves to the furnishings. I was joined by a gentleman around fifty who asked to sit at my table. Bar service was excellent so I bought us both a drink, and he returned the favor. An hour later he said to me, “This is better than the tournament room.” I said, “Yes, it is, but don’t tell anybody. We’re trying to keep like a club atmosphere in here.” He looked at what was going on on the tables and laughed. Then he stared at me and said, “Yeah! Like a club atmosphere!”
It might as well have been Brigadoon, which has slipped into the mist.