We can do anything we set our minds to
On the first Saturday of May 2026, at Churchill Downs, a barrier that had stood for 152 years quietly gave way. Cherie DeVaux, who built her stable from nothing eight years ago, became the first woman ever to train a Kentucky Derby champion when Golden Tempo surged from the back of the field to defeat the favorite at 23-to-1 odds. It was a victory that belonged as much to the future as to the afternoon — a signal to every girl who has ever looked at a historically closed door and wondered whether it might one day open for her.
- A 23-to-1 long shot threading through traffic in the final stretch is improbable enough — but the real upset was written in the winner's circle, not on the track.
- Five horses were scratched before race day, including one pulled just hours before post time, leaving a thinned and unpredictable field of 18.
- Jockey Jose Ortiz, in his eleventh Derby attempt, rode with rare patience — holding Golden Tempo deep in the pack before unleashing a surgical run down the stretch.
- DeVaux arrived at Churchill Downs uncertain how much weight to place on the historical moment; by the time she stood in the winner's circle, she understood she had become something larger than a trainer.
- Only the second woman ever to train a Triple Crown winner, DeVaux now occupies a place in racing history that no one can take back — and she is already thinking about the girls watching.
The roar at Churchill Downs on Saturday belonged to history. Golden Tempo, a 23-to-1 long shot, surged from deep in the field through the final stretch and passed the favored Renegade just before the wire, winning the 152nd Kentucky Derby in 2:02.27. But the horse's victory was quickly overshadowed by something larger: trainer Cherie DeVaux had become the first woman ever to win the Kentucky Derby.
DeVaux had built her stable from scratch eight years earlier. She arrived at Churchill Downs this week unsure how much to lean into the historical weight of the moment. By Saturday evening, standing in the winner's circle, her thinking had shifted entirely. "I'm glad I can be a representative of all women everywhere that we can do anything we set our minds to," she said, her voice still catching. She was only the second woman to train any Triple Crown winner — Jena Antonucci had won the 2023 Belmont Stakes with Arcangelo — but the Derby, the most prestigious race in American horse racing, had never belonged to a woman trainer until now.
Jockey Jose Ortiz was living his own breakthrough. In eleven previous Derby attempts, he had never won. On Saturday, he rode with masterful restraint — keeping Golden Tempo patient and far back through the early miles, then threading him through traffic with precision when it counted most. His parents were there to witness it. His grandfather was not, and Ortiz said aloud that he wished the man could have seen it from wherever he was.
The race had been shaped by attrition before it even began. Five horses were scratched in the days leading up to Saturday, including one pulled less than twelve hours before post time with a swollen leg from a skin infection, leaving only 18 in the field. The $5 million purse — $3.1 million to the winner — was real, but for DeVaux it was secondary. She had broken through a barrier that had stood for more than a century and a half, not in a secondary race, but in the one that defines a career. "I just can't," she said in the winner's circle, still searching for words. "Just so, so, so happy."
The roar at Churchill Downs on Saturday belonged to history. Golden Tempo, a 23-to-1 long shot ridden by Jose Ortiz, surged from the back of the field in the final stretch and passed the favored Renegade just before the wire to win the Kentucky Derby in 2:02.27. But the horse's victory was overshadowed by something larger: Cherie DeVaux, standing in the winner's circle, had become the first woman ever to train a Kentucky Derby champion.
DeVaux had started her own stable eight years earlier. She arrived at Churchill Downs this week uncertain how much weight to place on the historical moment. By Saturday, her thinking had shifted. "I'm glad I can be a representative of all women everywhere that we can do anything we set our minds do," she said after the race, her voice still catching with the weight of it. The crowd of more than 100,000 had watched Golden Tempo's improbable run, but DeVaux understood she was now something else too: a role model for girls who might one day want to do what she had done.
She was only the second woman to train any Triple Crown winner at all. Jena Antonucci had won the Belmont Stakes in 2023 with Arcangelo, but the Derby—the first leg of the Triple Crown, the most prestigious race in American horse racing—had eluded women trainers until now. DeVaux was just the 18th woman ever to saddle a horse in the Derby's 152-year history.
Ortiz, the jockey, was experiencing his own breakthrough. He had ridden in the Derby eleven times before Saturday. His ride was masterful—he kept Golden Tempo patient through the early miles, far back in the pack, then threaded him through traffic down the stretch with surgical precision. "I get to ride it almost every year, but to get to win it, it's just special," Ortiz said. His parents were there to see it. His grandfather was not—Ortiz wished aloud that the man could have witnessed the moment from wherever he was now.
The race itself had been shaped by attrition. Five horses were scratched in the days leading up to Saturday, leaving only 18 in the field. Great White, a long shot who had entered the race when another horse was ruled out, flipped and threw his jockey during a workout and was scratched by track veterinarians on race day. Silent Tactic had been ruled out Wednesday with a foot injury. Fulleffort and Right to Party were scratched Thursday and Friday respectively. The Puma came out less than twelve hours before post time with a swollen leg from a skin infection.
The purse for this year's Derby was $5 million, with the winner taking home $3.1 million. Under standard arrangements, the horse's owner would receive 80 percent of that, with the jockey and trainer splitting the remaining 20 percent. For DeVaux, the financial reward was real, but it was secondary to what she had accomplished. She had broken through a barrier that had stood for more than a century and a half. She had done it not in some secondary race, but in the Kentucky Derby itself—the race that defines a career in horse racing, the one that matters most.
Renegade finished second, with Irad Ortiz Jr., Jose's brother, in the saddle. Ocelli, another long shot, took third. But the story belonged to Golden Tempo and the woman who had trained him to this moment, and to the jockey who had ridden him there with such precision. DeVaux sat in the winner's circle, still searching for words adequate to what had just happened. "I just can't," she said. "Just so, so, so happy."
Citações Notáveis
I'm glad I can be a representative of all women everywhere that we can do anything we set our minds do.— Cherie DeVaux, trainer
I get to ride it almost every year, but to get to win it, it's just special. I just wish my grandpa was here, but I know he's looking from heaven.— Jose Ortiz, jockey
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
What does it mean that she won on her first try as a Derby trainer? Was she favored going in?
Not at all. Golden Tempo was 23-to-1 odds. She wasn't the favorite, wasn't even close. That's part of what makes it remarkable—she didn't have the establishment's horse. She had to outthink and outwork people who've been doing this for decades.
And she'd only started her stable eight years ago?
Right. Eight years. Most trainers at that level have been at it for thirty, forty years. She built something from nothing and then won the biggest race in American horse racing.
Did she know going in that she'd be the first woman to do this?
She knew. But she said during the week that she tried not to think about it too much. By Saturday, though, she understood what it meant. She understood she was going to be someone's reason to believe they could do this too.
What about the jockey? Was he also breaking through?
Jose Ortiz had ridden in the Derby eleven times. Never won it. This was his first. And his brother was in the race too, riding the favorite. So there's this family dimension—his parents watching, his grandfather gone but present in his mind.
The race itself—was it close?
It came down to the wire. Golden Tempo passed the favorite, Renegade, just before the finish. That's the Derby. It's not about who's best on paper. It's about who has the most left when it matters most.
Did anything go wrong with the race?
Five horses were scratched in the days before. One flipped during a workout. One had a foot injury. One had a skin infection. By Saturday, there were only eighteen horses running instead of the usual field. But that's racing. You work with what you have.